Archive for February, 2010

I don’t hope, I plea

I don’t hope, I plea that I’m not going crazy. I need my mind to stay with me, so I can continue to be what I am. Not a shell, a full grown man, causing trouble and raising hell, while deep inside hoping that I’m doing a good job. Fast forward twenty years, will I be successful? Will my situation still be stressful, or will I be able to stand on my own? Will I be a punk, or a zombie? Will I be punching codes or shallow poetry? These are the forks in the path in front of me.

Misplaced

In a tiny model house there is a tiny model dog with no tiny model owner to fill his bowl
Because the tiny model man went off to find a tiny model wife and left his poor forgotten puppy all alone
And the tiny model dog lets out a weak and desperate cry cause it’s been several model years and his owner isn’t home

A couple miles down there lives a tiny model man with his happy model bride in their new home
And this tiny model man is happy with his model life and their big blue backyard made of foam
But sometimes this tiny man makes a tiny frown because he wonders how his puppy dog has grown

Fallen

Flightless
But it didn’t used to be
Its soft and dark
Wings were torn apart
And fallen from the grand oak tree
Afraid, it gave up everything
To find the things it couldn’t see

Angel
She said why’d you have to go and clip your wings?
Now though you may be feeling well
You’re fallen, and you’ll never fly again
You’ve come down and now you’re forced to think
And feel, and bleed and sleep
What goals do you seek?

Love?
Emotions of a frail and human heart?
Are these the things you’re longing for?
That drives our kind to war and hate
But now it’s far too late
You’ve found your heart is beating
And your adrenaline is fading
And the fear is gathering in your brain

Listen
I won’t pretend to understand
The way you used to live
But what good could come of being one of them?
To see what it’s like to cry?
And what it’s like to want to die
The fear that you won’t make it
And the inability to change it

Everyday
You’ll regret this decision
You’ll wish you weren’t abandoned
When you see, when you bleed
When you’re sick or tired, or starving
You did this to yourself

Now
One day you’ll be brittle
Your mind and body will shrivel
And you’ll wonder where you’ll end up
Back where you came from?
The place you ran from?
This decision wasn’t yours to make
And when you’re made up, nice and fake
Who will be there at the angel’s wake?

This is a mess and I am the messenger

I’m not that interesting (but I try to be)
I have pages full of violent imagery
Hide metaphors with no real meaning
It’s really all just boring poetry

About self-deprecation
Or ego inflation
Occasionally intellectual masturbation
And rhymes so forced you’d swear I’m not even trying

But I’m just dying

A busted septic tank
My what a mess we make
By the time I notice it’s far too late
Become a stagnant pond below me

Why do I say it’s still too good for me?
Why do I say I don’t believe in me?
Or why do I say I don’t deserve to be

Happy

Or sad or really anything?
Emotions reserved for human beings

A right I gave up when I abandoned hope
When I abandoned everything
Can I say I really believe this?
Or is this self-pity just a stupid gimmick
So people will pay attention to me
And somehow it became ingrained in me
Well I’ll mark the day when I give up trying
Pick of the rope for this knot I’m tying
In my gut, and I’ll throw up
Purge away these awful feelings
Because they’re not good for me
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