Void Health Shift I

Swarm Oath,

     Taken to end the war of a spear's grinning tip, Masking cancerous intentions of a hunting death party, Marked with the diseased scent of a F(r)iend's li(f)e to yourself minuscule demeanour silhouette, Methodically dreaming of a malicious Shakespearian blood exposed curdling scene, Finding yourself necrotically dead husk of a man standing over the fallen skeletal hands of said enemy in the mirror's dignity, Too wayward spell long spent battling adversary imposters, Incanted into your sickness gaunt disguised gone inner rogue blind eye, A dementia ode time over you victory! A Lewis Body emotion terror flag.

In earnest anticipation of,

Hive Mind L IX

At war,

      Hunting spear grin tip marked with the scent a F(r)iend's silhouette, In dream wolves' skin epidermis tattoo arrives, As the lunatic predator hunts down our plastic comfort intention reverie, A conscious sedation mindshare bought by a newspeak terminology media hive televised speech.

In earnest anticipation of,

Daily Poetry Podcast: Class Esteem Suite

Class Esteem Suite

Acceptance

Aspiration's struggle

Class alleged proposal suite

Illegal exit bulimic esteem plan

Slated terms of standing conditions

Not that the pretence of your masculine

Red aggressive projection card attended

Any third witness party attention

To caring for anyone or thing

Save overcoming

Said anorexic

Self Esteem

In earnest anticipation of,

On Spreaker

On Youtube

Malefic Condescension X II

Surprised,

       Angry vermilion dawn skies, Drowning aspirations of the Lonely, Dementia eulogy old  & Stuttering of voices' hand, Made of stained atonement glass: A work labelled 'shots fired forever lost is grace.' Whose eternal rejection sting is good fatal dream news that stifles the living: Save the homeless, who count themselves as hopelessly less than Karma's lost, Burnt sheep of a black reincarnated ashen 'once again' offering, Palette of infinite nameless soul recycling!

In earnest anticipation of,

Daily Poetry Podcast: Tone Aggression Deaf

Tone Aggression Deaf

Tone Defiance

Deaf Aggression

Volatile Circumstance

Of Unconsented Touch

Made by Pathetic Immoral

Trench Gone Mad

Rogue Men

In earnest anticipation of,

On Spreaker

On Youtube

Daily Poetry Podcast: Masculinity Project

Masculinity Project

Derelict Facilities

Of Nature Accomplish

Our  Covert Rape Culture's 

 Aggressive Masculinity Project

A Grotesque Hive Blind Mind

Inner Sexual Deviant Eye

Tone Socially Deaf

Accepted...

In earnest anticipation of,

Further Sadness

On Spreaker
On Youtube

Daily Poetry Podcast: Napalm Bloom

Napalm Bloom

Only swelling time buds will tell

As the napalm glue flushes open 

The epidermis cocoon

On Spreaker

In earnest anticipation of,

What Demise of Change is this...

A slave am I,

     To the countless swells upon the synapse shores of the mind, labouring for change on behalf of hope, trapped here on this beautiful, crumbling, Sandcastle Earth. I don't want to stir things up with the social occupy style commentary spoken word poetry that pours out of me, as if I had writer's block in reverse.

     Not that anyone really reads the tide vernacular pools that settle themselves about the digital beaches of the internet's social yet invisible, or so it would seem, networks that others seem to thrive upon. How is it so? When a million poetic words have been written, then will someone grant me the most meagre recognition and say that I am an artist... At very least it could be said that 'I am a poet,' for such title is anonymous amongst artists. But this has allowed me to write whatever it is that comes forth, without hindrance of a harbinger's grotesque critique.

     As a writer any measure of 'success,' whatever that means in this world of uncaring greed, is left wholly up to the conditions created by my art. This humble text artist desires only to manifest tales upon pages from the depths of the empathetic imagination engine that ruins my peaceful sleep at night to write, write, write.

     So it is and shall be, until one day there is change...  Either way, I live to write and write to die, empty so that others might find solace and hope.

In earnest anticipation of,
Juton