Friday, May 31, 2013

The Honesty Algorithm

Moths from Dust,

     I am nothing. All the poetically infused prose comes from the core of something beyond the little man at the keyboard, oft described as Bruce Banner whose personality is as intense as the Hulk, though I never quite can manifest this broken form as a menacing green AWESOME! I'm but a kingdom of dreams.

     When the door closes and the music begins, I let my morals, wishes and rage kick in. Whoever I am outside in the world, existing at work or amidst people, that shell peals away and my ghost is revealed. Crows I employ for murder via methodical dialogue come forth without beckoning. It is as if I am become a corpse and the words must flee the grave as it is sealed by dust.

    Who can say when your next tomorrow is the end, no one can... So live not for a decrepit greed poisoned carpe diem, where dreams like compassion are overtaken by lethargy. Survive in the awareness of each moment to live the morality you once contrived to complete by merely living, long ago you recall instances where mistreatment left you feeling unequal, thus began the birth of virtue in the realization of fairness. Sure it's all decrepit, no one can show you how to survive this way as the seconds pass, adapt and learn, forgive but don't forget, for equality stand.

    I can't tell you anything. Surely you've realized this to be true, I'm but a vacant lonely corpse existing on accident after its expiry date on this wondrous earth. Renew your hopes and dreams each day. Never let them go, like love. Perseverance builds character, so does suffering, choose wisely how you drown.

In earnest anticipation of,

Thursday, May 30, 2013

Swimming in Space

I began once,

    As a child I began to swim,Sadly it was in my own grave,Where the ocean is throttled,Chocked in a noose never mentioned in the riddles of eternity, Drowning in the bottle neck amidst tides of an endless sea,This solitary stream is where the seven oceans choke,I become naught.

     Some men dream of leaving behind their lives in echoes,Remembered by their endeavours,I long only for the next level of solitary confinement! In this world there was living,Loneliness was a tide that shaped my fate while God moulded from clay before time the rest of mankind,I wasn't meant to survive the breathing from dust change... Death was my birth passage right...I somehow ignored it's texture of destiny.

In earnest anticipation of,

World's Over Journal I Silent Tomb

     This is the first entry in the journal logs Charles suggested we start keeping, for the most part to help keep us sane. We can only write for short periods, during the bursts of blue light which goes running through the fusion tubes along the floor or above us on the roof of our otherwise bleak and silent tomb. Charles will be helping, you know, with the technical military verbiage I just never understood, which there isn't much purpose of learning it now; not now, now that it’s all over. It doesn't look like we’ll be leaving this mechanical beasts belly any time soon.

     Twelve of us there were in the geay and black camouflage steel belly of Bahumat. Only Charles and I are awake, the others seem to be in a state of hibernation, which we cannot wake them from, no matter what we try. Water down their front, a good slap to the face, the beautiful key strokes of the piano, we cannot wake them, and we cannot get out. I'm sad, for it seemed that Charles and I woke so easily, amongst the erratic flashes of bright silver blue light.

     Today is our thirteenth day stuck inside the Bahumat, a hexapod class tank; which was made to in the image of a very large and well armoured crab. When it was new there were cannon turrets where operators sat, with one large one for its right arm instead of a claw. Several antennae stuck from the Bahumat’s face, just above the eyes, which functioned as turrets themselves. But now was our silent tomb, resting against the largest tree I've ever seen. Bahumat was missing three of its six legs, the middle right and the outer two on the left, which was propped against the tree; only the large right claw cannon remaining of its two magnificently powerful arms.

      Bahumat was a third generation crab tank, able to hold a crew of up to seventeen. It had several bunks, a small mess and a wash room with a pleasant sized shower; which I’d like to point out, is no longer functioning. The Driver's consoles had to be operated by three specialized pilots while in combat, one for normal leg movement across whatever desolate or jagged terrain the tank may need to cross; another for the rotation of the torso of the crab, and the third to be the eyes and ears, to plan all tactical moves ahead of its victim’s. These were all under the command of the Bahumat’s captain, who had the ability to control the whole tank and all its functions from his console if necessary, which he did mostly out of combat or in moments of dire need. The pilot next to him was combat movement and evasive manoeuvres while his counterpart was weapons and systems alert.

      Behind the captain’s command chair was another station with many screens and panels which controlled defensive shields, counter measures, decoys and energy flow within the tank. The whole inner right side of the tank was a cooling core for the large laser claw cannon. Inside the round cannon core sat three operators, a mechanical engineer who monitored heat and the shield, a second which was the loader and finally, the firing operator.

      When the tank was active there many screens and cooling tubes which lined the floors and ceiling for power that flashed a bright blue light while they streamed the liquid laser from the command chair, which was raised above the main laser reactor. Behind and beside the whole command console and defensive panel there was several feet of storage for weapons and ammunition or anything else the military trained murderers might need in the Last Great War. The left side of the tank was mostly living quarters and storage for the necessaries to keep people alive while living inside Bahumat. Before the silence of the last great war, I hadn’t cared how amazing my husband's tank was or is, but now it is the only our only memory, all else before this has faded. Sparks of blue laser light flash every so often along the walls, floor and ceiling as the core attempts to reengage and the emergency power wane. Before the world ended or... Was changed.

     Neither of us is sure, or can really recall, how the immortal races ended the Last Great War, known to humanity as the Third World War. I don't understand it all really. Did they put us all, every human, into this state of hibernation… If so, for how long have we been sleeping? There is no date or time which we can find to tell. We cannot get out and we can't wake our comrades from their sleep state. We cannot remember the past, not a single event before the war’s end.

In earnest anticipation of,
With Charles

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Preview of the Heart

Behind the stars,

      Desperation in the mirror is growing,Eyes half vacant,In eternal debt to hope I can't repay... Turning to a pillar of salt not stone,Blown away in the wind,Carried naught by human arms but Death's, No female raised a lip to kiss or a finger to a poet's nearly done in apathetic plea.

     If only God had erased me in the womb,This is my truth,That I desire nothing but the one thing never known,Drowning in air as I'm falling,Breathing is for those who care to live.

     I disenchanted the world,Provocation of a poet,Conviction of compassion under the tactics of a rose,A silver lying tongue & a middle finger,Raised to a lonely December ever mourning day,There is no warning,Sign of the torrential winds or space odyssey rains!

Heart on your sleeve,I wear mine around the neck,Love is just out of reach on the highest platform,Beyond the clouds where gods might reign. The loneliness surrendered to nose tightens stealing my breath,

In earnest anticipation of,

One Night's Tweets

Guard your heart in my hands,Wait for a sign before the collapse,Tension of the universe,Black worm for a selfish soul,Apathetic save loss.

Dangerous alliance of planets,Structure of submission between self(ish) & eternity,Voice from the black box spoke ill of the crash landing you implied.

Put on this rediculous front,As if I ever knew love,Just an old soul picking up history's pieces,Isolated uncondoned by the lips of a kiss on dead eyes.

As I plague these times,All I've got I leave behind,These words left upon paper,Killjoy of a man,Logical stimulous package never to be ressurected.

In loving memory of,Those stolen early,No one should phase out of remembrance,Forgotten should the greedy be,Not children of winner's lies

Kill your f*cking drones,Unmanned warfare is obscene like the terror the men who rape fellow soldiers,Claiming innocence & then victim blame

December mourning everything,Note the forlorn days in a dictionary labelled journal,Twist no chords of truth as ivory once melodic is teeth!

High voltage sound of the heart beat of G-d,Clouds of eternity destined to water down acid rain,Weapon of courage no bystander of morality.

Hard to identify the precious scared lifeless corpse of an unborn child in the 3rd world,No clinics for disbirth,Toe name tag read David...

Like a fresh blood stain from a napalm birth,Fire infused flesh scorched the streets,Concrete once walked bare of feet,Bears premature death

A fresh skid of scarlet on the curb,White sheets stained from premature drunken violation of sexual promiscuity,Toxic condition of the terms


Type: Rage

I justify,

    People say that certain types of art is merely for those who hate, one thing or another. Like Post-Hardcore or Melodic Death Metal for example, but I find this untrue. Those two genres at least, and most probably all others, are riddled with musicians whose art is conducive to positivity, even though there is anger in the voice and tone of the music.

     It is this that rings true in me, that rage is justifiable. In certain moments if I had not been filled with the power of hatred my courage would have faltered. What I mean is this, that there are things in this world that one can and should hate. Take rape for example and on top of that rape culture and victim blaming. Sex trafficking, greed in most all it's carnivorous and apathetic forms. War, the death of children due to... Napalm, dismemberment via land mines or stray fire.

    It all depends what you believe in that imbues the rage, but it is how you life your values / morals that finds you justified in rage. A person of any religion can stand by and watch people tortured unto dying, but if they uphold the values of equality, rage must fill them at the sight! If not, they are overcome with lethargy and are nought but a drone of the first world's debt under greed society. Which is a sad state to find oneself in, I do know...

     Sadly, I have wounded more than a few hearts in my years. A few left so I must write for change! Here goes!

      Once there was a glass realm,Inside was held captive a heart,Each pulse by a single dream once came true,Love. Shattered by a lethargic corpse walking the earth to sate its lust,Appeased his pathetic throbbing between her legs,Beyond recognition beaten in a black ally drawn blue by police lights,Amidst the torment a riddle like beacon shone,A memory of a far off melody or perhaps a proverb from an ancient psalm...

    'This will not destroy you.'

    The quote died with the outstretch of the deviant's voice,'I'm cumming,'Thus ended the reverie of one who might have been dying,Back to a distraught reality where no vigilante happened by to disrupt her rape. Nine years and a broken heart later,A single mother raises a testament witness to her denial of surrender,Life found a way,The smile of a child mends the lonely as she passes by,A drop of hope in the sea of humanity,Rippling effect a torrent of the Rio Grande:She is power.

     Welcome to the rage of love.

In earnest anticipation of,

World's Over Journal Waking

So this is it, here I go.

     Charles suggested I start a journal to keep myself sane as it doesn't look like we'll be venturing out from our steal tomb any time soon. Charles did promise to make the odd entry, mostly for clarification purposes I'm sure. Today is our thirteenth day in the Bahumat, a quadruped tank; which to me looks something like a large well armoured Ghost Crab. When it was new large cannons and antenna stuck covered the tank, but now it sat resting against the largest tree I've ever seen, missing three of it's four legs with only the large right claw cannon remaining.

     Having said that there are so many in here, you get a picture that this crab like tank is by no means small, the Bahumat series is the third generation crab tank able to hold a crew of up to seventeen, bunks, a mess and a washroom with a pleasant sized shower.

     Twelve of us there were in the gray steel belly of Ghost X1 only Charles and myself are awake, the others seem to be in a state of hibernation. We cannot wake them, despite our greatest effort. The Driver's console had to be operated by three specialized pilots while in combat, one for normal leg movement for travel, he was the pilot in charge while out of combat since he could operate the console solo. The pilot next to him was combat movement and evasive maneuvers while his counterpart was weapons and systems alert.

     Behind them sat the captain in a command chair with many screens and panels which he controlled shields, counter measures and decoys or if need be the whole tank. The whole right side of the tank was an outer shell of a cooling core for the large laser claw cannon. Inside the round cannon core sat three operators, two mechanical engineers and a loader. When the tank was active many screens and lights flashed while stream like tubes of the liquid laser lined the floors from the command chair to the laser cooling core. Behind the captain's command seat there was several feet of storage for weapons and ammunition or anything else the military trained murderers might need in the Last Great War. Can you see where Charles has edited for descriptive support on behalf of my not so technical approach, which is really me not caring about how amazing my husband's tank is or was. Before the world ended or... Was changed.

     Neither of us is sure how the immortal races ended the Great War, known to humanity as the Third World War. I don't understand it all really, I only know that we can't wake people from this state no matter what we try or how hard. Soon we will have to move out from the tank as the two of us don't want to use all the stores between just the two of us...

In earnest anticipation of,

Monday, May 27, 2013

The Miracle of Dreams

What did you do to your dream,

     If you never see it, was it ever real in the first place? Humanity is such that if it doesn't see it on the television or before our eyes, it never really existed.

     The first question I should ask of anyone, in the certain awkward interactions of a date should be, 'what is your dream?' For in the description of your dream, however minute or expansive, lies who you are and your future.  One can tell a lot about someone from the description of their dreams.

    In dreams we defy the logical outcomes of life in society, existing beyond debt the servant of greed.

In earnest anticipation of,

Hair Back at Work

I sing Arrietty's Song in Japanese
Anger infuse rage thrives
In this heart of mine
Bottom of the feed
I've been an online guild master for years
Much to the /sigh & dismay of many
Offline I'm the lowest
Form of society
A dreamer

Some damned men are heroes
Treat their women like dirt
Yet receive their loyalty
I'm deprived of...

The If Story: Part I

    I found myself standing on the edge of the universe, nothing below my feet and yet I didn't appear to be floating in the vastness of space that surrounded me. The surreal vanished in a moment as I gazed around awe struck, I could not see the sun nor the moon. The realization sunk it, I had no idea what universe lay before me.

Why had that singularity of thought triggered the onset of anxiety, after all I was but a man seemingly utterly alone in the cosmos, being in one universe or the next shouldn't make any difference.  Suddenly I became painfully aware that I was being watched a tingle went down my spine as I looked over my left shoulder, no one was there.

The feeling lingered and for several moments I stood there in silence, gazing out into the stars. When I brought my gaze back to face forwards there beside me was a girl, she was nearly my height with long brown hair dressed in a white jumper that would suite someone going into space, though she made it look majestic. The moment I noticed her, she also seemed keen that my eyes were upon her form, she turned her head my way to reveal white-grey eyes with red iris.

The young girl in the battle suit looked just as lonely as I, trapped in the isolated obsidian of space. I held my hand out towards her, without turning to face her, and said 'want to hold hands... and pretend?' She noded, extended her hand towards mine and for the first time, at age 15, I had a girl friend; even if it was just pretend or even a dream...

It was then that we noticed something moving off in the depths, it was large, silver and moving at great speed, a star ship. We stood side by side in silence for what seemed like a mellenia as it drew close. As it flew by I could see into the windows scattered about the hull of the vessel. The ship was gigantic, it must have held hundreds, possibly even thousand of people. When it was nearly passed I saw a young girl in one of the portals, it was the very same girl at my side. She must have noticed me, because she raised a hand to the glass, the same hand that was holding mine.

Realizing this, I looked up and the girl had vanished. I was alone again on the brink of space. For the next hour I watched the ship on its course through the darkness, it appeared to be heading towards a planet or possibly a moon that lay still a great distance off. How I knew that was its destination I could not tell, I just knew. Something deep inside my soul, possibly a long forgotten memory hidden in the back of my mind was rekindled when I saw the beauty of the planet. I could see the wonderous shades of green and the majestic blue from space. Vast forests untouched by the greed of mankind mingled themselves about the clean waters of the oceans.

I blinked, nearly blinded, from the bright reflection light off the particles in the air as the ship entered the atmosphere or was it leaving? I suddenly became very aware that the planet was no longer beautiful, it was... Black.  A massive creator on the surface from the trajectory of the ship, left by a massive explosion.

Overtaken by awe I stood there in silence, forlorn and mourning for the loss of yet another world. The ship passed by once again, I knew it where it was headed, off to another planet to call home. The vessel was nearly empty, as far as I could tell, from the thousands of people on board, only a few remained. I knew at once that the girl, who had once held my hand at the brink of  loneliness at the edge of space, was not aboard the ship.

Had she been lost to the tragedy that occurred on the surface of the planet? Was this all just some crazy nightmare if it was how could I remain asleep through so much loss of life...

 In Working Partnership with Paul O'Donnell, Site Administrator for The If Story: Check out Chapter I here:

Saturday, May 25, 2013

Metropolis Screams

Awoken so many
Set them all straight
Straight to metropolis
Hearts once invisible
Screaming for...

I wrestled life once
Screamed as overcome
Woke the world's compassion
Died a murder of apathy
One shot to the vein

Danger unmanaged
Recalled my time frame
Settled the score with forever
Black runt of the litter
Repenting echo
I'm screaming

I wrestled life once
Screamed as overcome
Woke the world's compassion
Died a murder of apathy
One shot to the vein
Plain to see
My ending

Piano Final Call

In earnest anticipation of,

      Power; The means to change scars on the soul to hope, This is the dream of one who is dying alone, Wish I could see the contortion of a formidable smile in the moments you remember who I am, Don't fight the warriors streaming down your face as tears, Part of the dream never meant to be, Existed too long in ethereal shadows of reality.

      When you see me in memories dancing in a spotlight amidst darkness, Live as one who can taste hope, An exchange solitude can steal away, So surrender your heart to friendship no matter if your heart ever be broken, Character is the stuff of legend, So suffer in sorrow with smiles, As if it were a mere movie, Then you'll understand why... I died so early.

      Achievement:Invisiblity,The world wasn't meant for who I am,Don't fight the tears of truth,I was simply a movie played out in real life, A phantasm of hell bound for heaven, Reassembled my fate upon this earth, How beautiful the tragedy of my birth, I should have been another soul, Lovely in living, A plan that I've stolen, An obsidian angel, This is the mirror's truth of who I am.


Thursday, May 23, 2013

Nice Guys Are For Losers!

What the hell,

     So I attempted 'online dating' and nothings become of it other than being told to f*ck off or being blocked... I'm only a week in and already cancelling my account. Can't be bothered to be 'the guy to tailors messages to the individual,' just to be denied response.

     People say they want more than 'just a mere hello' or a 'hey your nice, let's hook up,' but when you give them something beyond that they...

That's right, 'blocked by this user.'
So much for being nice!
Heroes are for...

      Everything willed by man was meant to be! Meaning there is a purpose behind our every action, though some are crimes against fate, like rape or burning children as offerings, worse than that selling them off to pay for habits into sexual trades.

     So why treat one another less than pleasant? Least she could have done me was say 'no thanks,' but I guess the hero in my own mind is nothing but dirt and all these posts and poetry is worthless in the eyes of mankind. I'm conjuring up poetically infused prose for nothing, nevertheless I'ma write till I cough up the cancer with my last breath and die.

     Relief, that's what I could have found in any response at all, in the realm of online it takes but a moment to send an either yes or nay say. Yet I can't find any, only a reprobate algorithm for a fate sealed in loneliness. A hymn for a lengthy dying code redeemed state left, where no one can see the throat slit.

     While my experience wasn't entirely bad, I can't recommend said adventures for those akin to me. If you're into poetry, chivalry or are a nerd... Run from online dating! It will only consume your heart and mind, as our souls are already lost to the digital realms.

In earnest anticipation of,

Plague of the glittery online realm stars, who realistically should have remained offline on paper...

Restricted Algorithymn

Malady of memory
Can't remember love
Times when I enjoyed life
Fate drove them far away
Drove my heart deaf
Changed me into...

Remastered destiny
Moderated sounds of joy
Abated quality of hope
Restrained emotion
Heart sickness

Entombed ghost
Passenger to history
She pulled of my wings
Destiny stolen flight
Heaven beyond
Out of reach

Moderated quality of fire
Inside I'm half alive
Restrained by fate
Emotion sickness
Always alone
In flames

Ethereal leeches
Snuffed out joy's fate
Novel of an internal war
Written by Valkyrie
Angels of destiny
Steeling mine
Long ago...

Remastered doom
Karma hesitated decree
Moderated sounds of joy
Abated quality of hope
Restrained emotion
Heart sickness

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

If I...

If I could sing
I'd wisp notes to the blind
Dreamlessly appeasing their dark
As if I could change their world
Driving pins & needles
Into their souls...

Another night
Trapped in pages
Intoxicated by wine
Lonely behind characters
Describing another life
A hero with purpose
How I dare...
To dream

If I could speak
As memories to alzheimer's
Would they wake to remember
Am I merely  adrift in dreams
Beyond the end of hope...

Another night
Trapped in pages
Intoxicated by dreams
Lonely behind characters
Describing another life
A hero with purpose
How I dare...
To hope

Monday, May 20, 2013


At war with wolves
On another's behalf
Weak rescue attempt
A day by day living plan

Response to beauty's loss
Beside the well at the world's end
She stands heart eclipsed
Nearly broken asunder

Harbinger's battle
Black cloud of crows
Pluck out the eyes of hope
As it rains down heartache
Wolves come out to play

Heart of mirrors
Shattered & alone
Keeper of reflections
Memorized every day alive

Here at the well
Beside the world's end
Memorized every lonely day
Collection the wolves ate
A total recall of life
Just to remember
An invisible smile
I can't even see

At war with the keeper
Maiden at the world's end
Standing before the well
One who holds the key
Chastity of the heart
After so many...

Sunday, May 19, 2013

Laid Low

How I Despise Racism,

     Yet I find myself often mingling about telling someone off in a fashion unbecoming of equality. Not for the sake of racial tension, hatred, inequality or slander but in that moment the individual is acting lower than the common place slur. Thus to call them such a vile name is placing them, in my mind alone, on a totem pole so low that in my heart I have disconnected value or compassion from them.

     There is no certain instance that I will point out for this. One must first learn to render themselves in control of their thoughts to adapt such a complex thought structure to awareness. For often in the distant past did I find myself thinking racial stereo types and slander that was not spawned from my brain. It came and comes to us all through the propaganda of the media in most all its nasty half truth forms.

    Be cautious of self, be aware and be valiant.

Low nameless clouds of beauty, Brought on by napalm's flames wherein children are dying, White ignorant hick friendly fire trigger happy hill billy, Racism hate isn't in a moment of rage encouraged by a deadly promise, Sadly this is the tragedy of human history: We endlessly repeat for a poison named greed.

In earnest...

Thursday, May 16, 2013

Silent Lambs

Oh Time,

      Conquered of my kind,We'd betray anything to live for the sake of living;Eternally,Not in some far off heaven, an invisible paradise or a forlorn grey twilight slowly turning to pillars of stone,Sadly we surrendered the dream of our hearts to a poison;Greed... Now we're doomed to repeat history.

      Struck dumb by the breath of awe,Heaven fired no brimstone nor a fury of titans as the world sank in sorrow when history was recounted before the audience of man who sat in silent darkness before the screening of atrocities caused by human greed.

In earnest anticipation of,

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Unknown Days


     The day I don't wake up,Heart grew too tired to live,Rotten with rage from the history we relive on repeat,Those who have learned are killed off,The debt limit break must rise until... Anxiety claims the lives of more blue collar crews and more children are traded into a sexual hive network of honey between their loins,A sad world without change...

     Every mourn I woke hoping to glimpse the end of worry's debt existence parade amidst doubt's foreboding of another night in cold sweat and of course the Devil: Apathy.

     Each night I contemplated death,Malfunctioning wrists or a noose drowning,How might I meet an end,Awareness keeps me present,I may forgive but I can't ever forget,Every face scene or article read,A Roman Empire of memories built upon bricks of unforgivable moments.

    Wake in heaven or in hell,Just glad not to see this world's frown,Mother Nature was raped by culture while Father Time suckles on the breasts of Grace whose pregnant with All History's Remorse,An every night binge they lay intertwined beside the sea,Awaiting the end,Just as I do...

In earnest anticipation of,

Monday, May 13, 2013

The Face of Loss

Have you ever seen it,

    A gaze so forlorn that you are awe struck? As if you realized that life had meaning or you saw God before you standing there. Truth bestowed upon you by one who was utterly downcast. It is then, by the look upon their face, that you know for certain and maybe for the first time, there is something more precious about life than merely existing day by day in the monotony of autonomy in society today.

    In that moment you are so inspired by a myriad of emotions, the onslaught of awe. There is mourning and sorrow for who they are... What is their story, how did they come to be here in this fashion and why is their face so riddled with endless; the next word is indescribable, it could be helpless lonely hopelessness, I cannot say... But you can, for you have indeed seen someone in this state, whether you realized it then or not.

    It may be that awareness has struck you for the first time, for many it does not linger, trapped in a moment behind walls of external comfort; for the realm of the soul and who we really are, is vastly uncomfortable, especially at the onset of consciousness. You see, the man before you is just another man, but when you see his soul so naked out in public, upon the street near a station of various hue, it strikes you. 'How could anyone show so much of themselves here, out in plain view for everyone to see?'

     The answer is simple; their soul, even unto themselves, is all that they have left and it is so forlorn that nothing really matters... Nothing, not even the change you might drop in their lap, not the food or alcohol it might purchase, they seek sedation, hope or death... Just as you do, save you are hiding and they are dying.

    In perpetual motion of fading, everyone is within the same realm of existence, but what you do with who you are is who you really are. How you treat and subsequently think about everything around you and even yourself.

    Consciousness is being keen that you are and the setting you are in, thus those who might perceive you. This drives the construct of confidence or self image and how we project it.

    Awareness is the knowledge of self in the present moment, who you are and what you aught to do in that specific moment... Or maybe what you want to do and thus being aware of the trinity of self, Body, Mind and Will.

     So do not protect your projection! Live in virtue, inspiring the will of others to hope and the resurrection of dreams!

     I have witnessed the tide of a human life change course,Without a warning,No winds,Tide or tale,To wither without attempt is humanity's deepest regret,In the afterlife it is shame!

In earnest anticipation of,


Sunday, May 12, 2013

Posture of Patience

Cross my heart... Hope I die,

      Creature of kindness caught in between greed & madness,Restore my faith in the condition of humanity,Fate of a twisted proposition mechanism of intoxication,Control granted in perpetual sequence as we accept to exhibit the features of trends...

     Cross my heart out on the chess board,Carved the pointless match score  with stitches into the wrist's f(r)iendship with steel wound,Countless strands of a single ivory chord formulating the posture of a noose,Finger's play an impossible feat of tune strength while the soul remains still,A posture of patience,Awaiting deliverance... Of grace,Known as forgiveness or peace.

Saturday, May 11, 2013

31 Seconds to Doom, Leave an Imprint

Anxious to End,

    Don't care about recognition or achievements, I leave behind a digital imprint of everything I've ever written in hopes that someone might find and be inspired to inspire hope as these malfunctioned words of mine reflect the failure of my heart.

    Some may want glory or fame for their various endeavours, I desire only enough monetary funds to exist another day, then I might write another phrase that might impact a life I won't ever meet face to face. Destiny has outlined my course in number of days, I must spawn the fiction & poetry that I can within every waking breath. Until I pass out or lay still as one dead.

In earnest anticipation of,

Ps. Daily Fixtion will soon find its way onto Twitter! Stay tuned for short stories amidst the thousands of poetic tweets!

Friday, May 10, 2013

Oh Bride, Await My... Death

Dear God, Tomorrow I might die, So tonight I write to she who waits...

Dearest Death

                   Broken timeline settings gone numb from a distant future now holding out on our viral statement of being,We're content to relive the past;Only a dozen times worse,Asexual spiral of lethargy has descended up our hearts.

This is the human condition norm;Seize the moment for yourself before it becomes a corpse,Bride of our dying world's father time to discover a way to do cure the epidemic of greed,Roll the di on the method of anarchy,Contortionist of our narrow point of comfortable existence,No need to persuade,Alter our perception with media and education,Until we believe fiction to be facts.

A crying shame this perpetual declining tournaquet vermilion stained system,Universe condition of eternal pain,Historical logic context of a wishful blind inner eye to the sorrow humanity's greed endlessly carries out.

Bite my lip,Crimson wakes the soul,Remedy for lethargy coursing through the merit less veins throbbing just to piss as if every tinkle was a mile ran,As if  helped to avoid hell,Such a wicked heart should never wake to the liberty of caring,For it would merely self destruct...

Dead;At long last,No more skin prison,The epidermis could adapt to human prejudice,Much less what was born within,Sad hatred state we people won't believe I was born this way... They raise a single digit and begin to describe how their God should scorch out my life. There is no heart of moral logic love at the heart of their truth,Ignorance is their comfort mentally ill chemically induced virtue sedation, How twisted they must be...

Concrete societal acceptance of ethnic cleansing,Dreams are dying out by the millions,Signals of hope we transmit until lifeless in lethargy

Train wreck of guiltless carpe diem moments,Witness of the heart found us out,Betrayed our suicidal tenancy to the angelic host inside self!

No one ever explained the thought patterns of God's heart I was 'supposed to' believe in,Fingers of glass handled the heart of eternal terror

Rolled up my sleeves for the virtue I believed in,Until doubt found us out,Then there was nothing left after the tear down,A farcry of love.

The last attempt at telling my loved ones I felt the touch of Death breathing down my neck,To them I was born not 'gay' but already dead...!

In earnest anticipation of,
.... My Bride, Death!

Thursday, May 9, 2013

The Torture of Remaining...

      Affirmation of an obliteration,Posture ends the guilt of a formidable half neglected conscience self-drown and near death of promise,Disregarded for the smoke and mirrors of comfort's disguise for a dying future,Dreams surrendered willingly to the reaper straight will submission from hearts grown helpless as tombs for destiny,

Hold on tight to the heart as it pours out through the gas mask,Mourning until it can't see straight,Spoke up at long too late seconds last like hours as the tears pool up between knees,Nothing remains of what I stood for,Faith betrayed by reality's train wreck of believable scientific logic,God wasn't our creation hero... Or else this sad greed infused comfort farcry from a realistically logical society would have died out long ago!

Kill off starving children with contaminated water,Allow sexual traffic slaves to be vaginally extorted as rape victims are blamed at on home soil for a crime committed against them,Covered was there orifices when the night's spot light began the search for the evil man,He caved in to the momentary greed we call lust,Carpe F'kin Diem can slit its throat,Pointless is the villains sexually violent adventure,If there was an Eternal Spirit up in the skies,Watching the stats grow of our deaths on his charts of human loss paper work,He'd have ended our intolerable way of guilty living long ago!

I double take every day as the swat team conscience mine sweep my mind for reasons why I cared at all,Watching the earth scream under our feet,A crime of perpetual neglect,Prolonged by an imbued ignorance we pass on and desire to leave behind as our smoking mirrors calling card to our children,Next generation endowed with lethargic hearts of disregard!

Acknowledge the Reaper as the knife's steel to skin f(r)iendship suicide begins to bleed,Silver begins to sink into epidermis,An intoxicating event I simply cannot watch,Horror of my final crime,A selfish last wish reward,Nothing without sound believed in my purpose,I was but an unfashionable waste of humanity's society space upon earth,Despite the silence around my billions of words,I allowed this act as the will of destiny,A son of fate survived past grace's point of no return,Brimstone sulfur awaits the ghost from the empty shell,I am to appease Satan eternally upon spikes & in flames,Such is the tale of a poet who once believed...Who tried their f'cking best.

In earnest anticipation of,
J the Villain Itself

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

I'd Go Blind...

The Course of Peace,

      Burn my eyes, Pluck out these thoughts from my decrepit mind, Hold my dying hand as the cancer swells within this heart of mine, I'd go blind to see you smile from the soul once again, Sad state of a fool's last wish

     I don't care about being accepted. Being cool or of value isn't on my mind. The corroding heart within lingers in cancer's eyes, A timeline granted that isn't mine, Dying out as a candle succumb prey to a breathe's wish, I survived long past my last date to expire.

    Fooled the deck,Placid human skin faint as wool over her eyes, Destiny's arrow reclaimed a finality curse over the last breath of my life, I walk as one accepting their termination point, Judgement comes and no one shall ever hold my hand as I fade out: Deserving ever painful gurney twinge of my half alive corpse as it clings to life, Burn me alive before I... A eulogy request self harm land mine.

     Asked God for help, No assistance for my self but for the soul of mankind, Peace of mind attributed to an equality scene I shall never see for the epidemic of wounds stole my sight. Knife to liquid iris f(r)iendship happened long ago, Couldn't bare witness to the tragedy of children sold into sexual trades to be trafficked across this dying world anymore, Even in blindness I'm afraid to close my eyes, Vivid imagination seas of humanity's crimes, Socially acceptable torrent of profit over lives, I swear to any god must die!

    The pain of living, Sedate my spine, Don't care if I can't walk or speak, This foolish poetic attempt to change human life is meaningless!

In earnest anticipation of,
VoT, Juton

Monday, May 6, 2013

A Public Death

Conscience drowning,  

     I am nothing, Save a villain of poetically infused prose standing up via an unscripted voice written in digital words of discord for one purpose: Equality!

     Whatever happens tonight in a dreamless state is irrelevant,Subliminal guilt's tide change course amidst a torrent of rain without wind,God damned my epitaph to read:Incinerated on behalf of a blessing never manifest,Hanging still born from the gallows of the lowest arches...

     Dying as if survival was within reach.

Twitch... Of Dreams

Dear God, Tomorrow I might die, So tonight I write to she who waits...

Dearest Death

Sorting through evil,

     No one will sort through the evils I've written once the epitaph reads incinerated, Rime of lost words shall freeze over my eulogy until an age when the decrepit curse of honour matters once more. 

     An hour pledged but viewed as a curse, End of days Biblical fortune Tellers neglect the mention of comfort, No one to hold the dying's hand, No one to slit the throat of a perpetually raped sexual trafficked victim, No one to quench the insatiable thirst of greed's one street margins, No Father to knight the children buried under tons of refuse; their fate locked away as one without a serenade...

     I curse my left wrist until it heals... Then I unleash the storm upon the right! Bleed I must until the throat of God bares a scar...! Forsake us all or bring remedy to the wishes of equality. Are you Almighty...? Or just another invisible idle once served...?

    God learnt to betray early, Son of a virgin left to die, Curse of the Red Right Hand, No amount of crimson shall sate the epidemic of the vermilion vengeance storm His will sought.

    How unreal, The twilight realm of a profitable age where dreams no longer mattered, Long distance phone calls from the past, We bestowed grace upon their memory as we remembered, Despite the visions we never forgave & never forgot, Wishes of the past manifest themselves in moments of fate, We remain still as our pacified will rarely wakes, Save in the face of death...

    Oh hopeless endeavour of dreams, Grace upon ourselves for forgetting to live, Carpe diem's curse stole too many years from our youth, Sadness brought upon us tolerance of Greed's glittery paper plague over our lives, Nothing now reminds our will of dreams save dying.

    I watched the status' upload of my so called contemporary age timeline, Witnessed the mistakes of ignorant pacifism & the tortures of greed, Nothing held humanity back so much as comfort... Debt until death we sought no dreams but the moments slumber.

In earnest anticipation of,

Dishonest Attempt: Carpe Diem Moments

In Poetic News Today,

    Today, after months of protest, fighting broke out in the streets of central down town city of Ire. It seems that any peaceful attempt to overthrow the human condition epidemic known universally as 'the monster of carpe diem.' Many civilians who've wondered and become  unlost from the opposite realm of what was once meant; instead of seizing the awareness of the moment(s) and thus recognizing the necessary adaptation of self to aid others... Is gone.

     We've become trapped, suffocating on a poisonous theory: Greed. 

     It has polluted the will, we see it all around us, just look at the next generation's youth. They follow our tragic footsteps to part oceans without effort to appease selfish desires in said moment,  a travesty disguised. The broken seed we've accepted, planted within our haunted and failing hearts has changed tolerance into ignorant disregard. It has changed love into lust. It has changed the sight of war from disgust to glory; as profit margins sore! 

      Sure enough the disease is interchangeable in any moment. It has sunken our skin to a hue of orange, for reasons we can't comprehend, a total buy in structure of our new age human condition to magazine projections of trends...For monetary gain. It has caused us to swear an oath to living for the sake of nothing. Day by night we arrive on the scene, a meaningless gesture; for there we stand watching and waiting for signs of a photograph waiting to be taken that we might spread...

     Greed, lust, loathing and rage: They are all the same glittering manifestation of one word, 'the monster of carpe diem...' Selfish-Awareness.

In earnest anticipation of,

Sunday, May 5, 2013

An Altered Deviant Boyfriend's Violent Course

Dear Ass-Hole Boyfriend,

     I'm glad we met,Though you'll despise me in the future,A drunk tank future where you awaken,I couldn't fathom the invention of sorry being plausible in our two minute adventure interaction in the human condition,It's truly sad that hatred intoxicates your machine life.

    Now you're being carted away for public disturbance,Yelling at me...After screaming at even higher volumes at your supposed beloved partner,If you won't fight for her heart,I'll show her chivalry,I stood in  your face as venom seethed from your piggish lips,I pulled out my phone and you congratulated me in mocking jest that I might use said device...

    Too bad for you I'm just as much an ass-hole as you,Save I'm a counter culture anti-hero living on behalf of nearly dead wishes,Dreams are not all so easily surrendered unto death,So remember as you wake in a cell,There is no fog that you might wipe away from your eyes that might reveal a bridge to forgiveness.

     That was my adventure betwixt destination and home tonight.

In earnest anticipation of,

Friday, May 3, 2013

When Tomorrow Falls

For those of you who don't yet follow my twitter poetry, Here's a subtle sample and what it subsequently leads to out for the resources of words in my Brian.

      Gift of foreboding,Conquerors history unravelled at the poetic discovery unwanted,No one ever cared before the new day...Of truth,Now dare!

       That is an 'average tweet' one of seven thousand five hundred, here is what it can lead to: as you've already born witness to, enjoy the vicious circle of the prelude of equality, though it may seem unreasonable folly!

        Brought dreams back to life,Smiled in the moment to configure my face in enjoyment of the future's epitaph of this very second: I shall remember always, Even as the ghost after my dying day. Tomorrow in the wake of awareness,Bare witness to your first words,A question thusly: Do they speak to the logic of your heart?Be they of wholesome good or disturbing ill?

      The opposite of toxic is the way we were meant to live,Sadly chivalry isn't dead,It's become decrepit,Arriving on the scene in brief moments to awaken the hearts of maidens,Intoxicatingly false perceptions of the soul misguided in a curse of the mind, Selfish greed running amok,Is all we now find...

In earnest anticipation of,
Juton the Villain