Farmers and their families
scurrying like mice
across the countryside from the tidal wave of oppression
with its corrupted gold-plated fist
fools that they are
insolent all
dilluded by dreams
theyll never achieve
still they run
across this long journey
down the path
winding around its turns
beten down
by so many before them
until the end
when they finally drown
and become
bait for the tractors
with pockets turned outward
trading the stitching
for one last chance
to say goodbye

 

she wasnt sure when it was going to come
and that left her in fear
a day that needs no why nor how
asked in the name of ignorance
the face of their so-called destiny
fools that they are...
she couldnt believe how easy it was
the ice cold steel in her sweating hands
eyes closed standing in front of her mirror
it didnt matter
she knew what she was going to see
that was her motivation
twitching finger and protruded led
cold and her body warm
blood run down of a red so deep
stains the walls and the floor
still breathing
breathing but not calm
shreiks of frusteration released from within
she runs into the bathroom and weeps
softly weeps
ill try again tomorrow

someone take this life away
save it for another day
a day of which there'll be no tears
for those who canot cry

tears are just drops
drops of an emotion
that are hardly ever appreciated
and even less by those who ave it life
a tear is an exposed soul
made by people covered in salt
diging deep inside
only to find their reflection

mirror on the floor
bearing a thousand cracks
revealing a thousand faces
of a woman with only one
but thats why its there
showing you what ive always known

inside ive been raped
by the thoughtless appendage of its heartless oppressor
spilling its seed upon my being
planting the ultimate pain
 
come together
friends and family
and bring your weapons of diplomacy
along with your fineset men
who will kill and kill and kill again
thought is no option its all or none
then when it is doen the last shot is fired
well feast on their flesh and fulfill our desires
its war for peace not peace from war
and its all over now

weve taken what we want and then go back for more

 

FOUR MILLION NINE HUNDRED NINETY FIVE THOUSAND SEVEN HUNDRED AND THIRTY
(4/9/95/7:30)

little girl has gone astray
far away
not comming back
any day
her memories trapped in the lining of her bag
everything else thrown out
leaving room for only essentials
her essentials
taking mine as well
everything but me
left behind only to watch
to hear her lsat screams without seeing her face
never forgetting except for how to feel
but lonliness remains
HOW CAN YOU REMEMBER SOMETHING IF YOU DONT KNOW HOW IT HAPPENS
it matters not for i am empty

 

feeling is overrated
they get in the way
between things that couldnt exist
without feeling

 

the ugly poet
writing beautiful words
of expelt greif
a gift from the world
a master of ink
writing a mask of ink
thats beginning to drip
and bleed through him
he knows hes rotting
from the stench of pain
as emotion shoots through him
thinning as his pen
runs dry
the heat increases as he shrivles
and holes of flame impale him
turning black like his scratchings
the fires bellow and swallow him
and the last reminants of ash
blow in the wind

 

a childs cry
breaks the silence
of the dim lit night
mother passed out on the floor
father long since gone
and on with his life
creating more pain with each wife
childs tears filliong its face
crying for love crying for care
crying for things that were never there
cries that are softened by daybreak
turning into laughter
as the sun reflects colours on the wall
from all the empty bottles
gripped by stiffened hands
lifeless...

 

STUPID TEENS WITH POINTLESS DEPRESSION AS FOLLOWS

take away this pain
as i cut this vein
may my blood loosten
the chains of my sorrow...within this institution

 

the barefaced walls and the buzzing light
hold me in their arms
as i hold myself in mine
alowly piecing words to envelope this feeling

 

I lay in my bed and gaze up toward my bedroom window. The curtains hang still from its perch like vigilant sentries, guarding me from the goddess's lantern. Small holes in the sheets like spies and moles allow the objectionable over the lines and under the fire. Through the trenches of my intention. Shooting its rays from Her chamber across the dust from my room. The dust detects its presence and the wind begins to howl. I rase my head and give my orders. As my body awakens it rises from recline and laughs to the end of its ascend. "assinine", haughty and assiduous. The window is closed and curtain is sealed. Relieved from my stand, book in hand, an armistice once again.

 

the harsh cold winds blow deep
and it freezes the scene
darkness rises
as the snow begins to fall

 

i do not pledge alligence
to your flag
of this country or anyone elses
and i refuse
to die or bleed
for this nation
under no god
divided once
with liberty and justice
for sale

 

the sun shone brightly in their shallow eyes
and warmed their hearts that day
the trees bowed down to the wind
as the clouds overlooked them
and watched each other
on my window sill
baked from pride and faded paint by time
seperated by a pane of glass
which shows me to the world
indifferently disinterested
it leaves the viewing for the viewer
for the curious and their eyes
a rustic scenery draped with stone entangled by metal
at the whim of a piece of paper
the blemishes hidden by shadows incapable of empathy
where factories rise abnd bellow greed
exhalting guilded goods
at the expense of authenticity
they know no other way
and so they shall live in disbelief
of need for change
to this rotting corpse
thats been dead for so long
it cannot die again