Monday, November 30, 2015

Hope: Falling in Love with Shame

Seeking love,

     Despite misinterpreted revelations that weak kaleidoscope ties buried in loose illegitimate ends of lies have convinces us that sequences of forfeited hope labelled untouchable, garnished by a foreign nurtured performance of pacifist devotion to a 100% poisonous commitment to a temporary flame of comfortable solution-less contorted vision, A prison we conventionalize as a vacation to truth we conclude must be... Happiness!

In lieu of the potion we consume,
Strickening us blind into commonness

Friday, November 20, 2015

Beached Children II

Sometimes I just want to watch,

     In dreams, the world burn. Then wake to find this dream reality, Just so I never have to sleep amidst our ongoing inhumane tragedy, Sleeping while our selfishly paved black karma sheep road recycles the lives of slaves we will back to life in droves... I am fixated on this, the silence of... Us, as we willingly neglect to interpret the shores of 3rd dead world children washing up on distant, this sand-castling earth shores! I can barely breath amidst the torture of... 

Another day in lieu... Of,

Thursday, November 19, 2015

Beached Children I

Advantage conformity
Addiction scares away the memory
Communion's wine masks our lethargy
We're stained with empathy for a regurgitated Amen
A stable doubt murdered out guilt that would awaken shame
As G-d she remains lethargic so we too are silent
Watching karma attempt to carve children
From our ashen black road to hell stone
Out of the sea endless tomb shores
Where she lost all her friends
Kids who sank like rocks
In an ocean of pretend
Make believe hope
It's a sea of...
Her sadness

Saturday, November 14, 2015

Hive Mind: Different Reasons to: Smile I

Formulating private missions of cruelty,

    Because even sometimes forgiveness needs to be put in it's place! The continuance of the 'you're all right,' not so white fire seething lie perpetuates our wound's hidden glass inside storm overcast by inner poorly stated demonic reasons why joy is a mistaken trophy of a choice against the magnitude of self fulfilment, A stolen ability to review the conclusion of fact in our own identity, Hiding behind a mask given to us by our past wounds and current friends.

In lieu of our participation in,
Listening to others instead of us...

Friday, November 13, 2015

Hive Mind: Without Heart I

You're silence,

     Is a constituency limiting what we know of you... It says way more about you than your words do, An overture attempting to manipulate amputated hope infect via the derelict breath seams between the way we're so weak courage choosing to call even the most remote echoes of you... You, Are beyond the point of despair and nothing, We know you're love and won't ever come back.

     Whatever you once promised, It's been jaded by the sick hearted realization that inhumanity would never endure a disaster so tragic as the dilution of our greatest fears, We don't want to lift a pacifist dictated never exited our pockets finger for the most beautiful infection from our origin we now so willingly neglect: Equality, empathy... Love, We embrace the worst habits that stain our future damaged and blind, Tolerant only of the most rife, Our capacity for change; On behalf of greed.

     Call avarice what it is, Symbol for the greatest narcissistic, disenchanted generation enthralled with the joy of sex, every moment hung up and over from our chosen narcotic, Demanding you respect our lazy apathetically lethargic agoraphobic disattachment shores of a dying world we've tragically created... For nothing more than another moment spent denying anything but the worst: Is wrong...!

In lieu of our participation in,
The encompassing void of non-response  

Thursday, November 12, 2015

Hive Mind: Precarious Scenario Type A

Tell me white half intoxicated blind lies,

     So I can see who works for face value, A cult of superstitions on societal revolving hearts grown jaded grotesque display beyond the hardened fashionably silent loneliness, A dance of what's breaking in the burning harmonies upon the valiant wind, A ghost whose only remedy is a whistle... Which we pretend not to feel, Hiding behind scarves and layers of unfiltered memory bricks entitled: Moments of pain; When we glimpsed what love might have looked like.

In lieu of our participation in,