Following are most of the poems found in BlueSuburbia, or from my scrapbook. If you wish to see them in their intended interactive form then do visit the site. A couple of these interactive versions are also stand-alone pieces (such as “Strange Dreams”, and “Angel”). I’ll be updating this post as I continue to write, although I do urge you (if you haven’t yet) to see them in BlueSuburbia.

For my non-rhyming social commentary click here.

–

Children Of Then

in the future how would they fare,
the children of then?
would they have to pay for air?
and suffocate the same way men starve?
but who’s to blame for what we are?
should we point fingers at those in charge?
at leaders,
at beliefs,
at politicians,
scientists,
or great powerful thieves?
when it’s none other but less than ‘we’,
and it’s easy to stay naive or believe
that one raindrop did not contribute to the flood
but still into that growing mass it fell
of others not contributing as well
till one day tomorrow was overcome
with children that had to pay for air
fear the sun, survive and despair
upon Earth that quaked, boiled, burned then broke
and in regards to what was so casually done a time before them
no greater grief known, but that of the children of then

–

Portrait of a Nomad

Nomadic Scriptures by the insane
i come from nowhere and will probably end the same
who am i then, not lost but forever wondering
through my nowhereland…

along the way a man enlightened, so proud and great,
he knew to teach me the way
and directed me to…

confide my soul to priests that boast possession over faith
and suffer religion to devalue god
into another cheapened artifact to fear
but i, truly mad, chose to suffer hell in life
rather than surrender myself to the proud and blind

Nomadic Scriptures from an unsound mind
i come from nowhere and speculate the same
who am i then, so faithless but still i pray
through my sweet nothingland…

along the way a man successful, such fortune and fame
he knew to take from me the little i had
and lectured me that…

self-satisfaction is worthy my submission
a master for my spirit, the artificial world of fickle ambition
where superficial desire devalues love and life
into a conscienceless commodity objectified to please the heartless shell
but i, truly mad, chose another hell and saw the rich as poor instead
suffering to be abused rather than the abuser
a warrior to fall as the last living exception, in the land of prospering slaves

Nomadic Scriptures of a beautiful delusion
i come from nowhere and my path is not paved
who am i then, neither lost nor saved
traveling through nowhereland…

along the way a scholar man, academic of absolute truth and fact
among those knowledgeable select few, he was rigorous and exact
speedily he took to instructing me that…

god is naught and all such mysteries long solved
for surely we live in the most advanced era so highly evolved
that we’re landlords of Earth and slave-owners of all its resources
man’s unsurpassed greatness, he thus resolved
places him as the most self-aware being in the known universe
sipping coffee from a paper cup he handed me a textbook mock-up
where he scrupulously prove to me the meaning of life
laid out over elaborate graphs and diagrams to prove he was right

Nomadic Scriptures of the daydreamer kind
i come from nowhere and will probably end that way
who am i then, not lost but forever wondering
through my makebelieveland…

along the way a kindred man, heroes unnamed unsung untold and roaming
souls painted by homelessness, poverty, war, and desperate days
he knew not to know and boasted nothing but a smile on his face
dignified grace the eyes told all there is or was to say
so, in casual disregard to bygones and come what mays,
we nodded in silent respect and went our separate ways

The portrait of a nomad from the unwritten Scriptures

–

Never-ends

Never-mind the never-ends
Their world is round and spins
It wont stop, its seasons change
It wont pause for life to stay
The same as it behaved just yesterday

Never-mind those never-ends
Nothing waits as life revolves
In a spinning space that knows no bounds
Where somewhere little beings stand quite tall
On their little pavement covered ball

Very-minding the always-wheres
The always-is and always-wills
Better-thans and better-ares
So completely and fully in charge

Then one day some obvious change
Came into play as it could and may
It wouldn’t see them regardless how great
Nor mind their efforts to stay that way
So they broke and fell all the same
As their world stayed round and spun away

–

in the land of once-upon-a-time
the wind fell silent and the sky came to a halt
over unending desert where there where once rivers,
now cracks of sick earth, all water turned to salt,
a funeral for the last true plant that dies then withers
where the uncultivable of animal, displeasing to the palate, lie in bone
short-term greed reaps the proud seeds so long ago sown
in slow aftermath only manufactured impressions of life remain
when the only way of life is under artificial light
menacingly gnawing at the skin of superficial creatures
who became alien to their own being by financial birthright
their blood replaced with origin-less fluid
a weak abstraction of what once was
in the name of progress, they will boast
never to have seen more advancement than before
in the land of once-upon-a-time, where man became ghost

–

Spare me the company, friend or love
Deity, heaven, or all of the above
If love means to be loved for what I’m not
And salvation received from another that’s just as lost
When I know so well — it’s easy to tell,
Paradise has no place for me,
Disfavored by grace, freely I’ll follow those who fell
Left to my own devising, I plant myself a garden just outside of hell

–

Those that had little to begin with know they need less
Those that knew naught but wealth are truly repressed
Neither fortune, nor fame spares a lonely end
And even the greatest legends and legacies fade away
Friends come and go, and family might stay, but come what may
All I will ever have is myself and the little moments of today
Let the world convince me that I am but a menial dreamer
Beautiful naivety, my dreams are sweet and I’ll be freer
Let all strangers blind me with a thousand musts and needs
Rather ambitiously, my nothings are filling and I burned the rest
Let them put my will to test, and place my body in a carefully supervised cell
I’ll close my eyes and resign to the paradise that is mine
Unconventional views ascertain, it is not I that is unwell, caged, or enslaved
Reality lies in perception and I choose to suffer my own deception
As a charming failure painting smiles despite unforgiving gloom or cold
And when time reaps all, seeing the grandest grow weary and old
Let death come to take her rightful claim
Who then is to boast greatness when all that is ends the same

–

The old man dies and the young man crawls
The sick do the same and the poor knows all
But some rise to hold their head high
fearless of the night that falls
disregarding come what mays
or all the grievances of yesterdays
true beauty is forged from chaos
and in that beaten down moment of hopeless loss
neither god nor martyr will know a greater heaven
than the undaunted pauper who simply laughed at fate

–

tirelessly, I battle invisible monsters,
and combat fate along a journey I chose long ago.
no rest, where can I go?
to flee those inescapable demons and doubts.
greater men had died for less…
than relentless ideals or artificial ambitions.
circumstantial successes,
have seen many lost in a bubble.
those that live free are truly sublime,
and freedom is the conquest of fear.
ascension of the divine…
I am the consequence of what I choose to believe,
and the power of choice, none other but mine.
a delicate balance of perspectives,
perception is but opinion,
and hardship but a point of view.
greater men know how to endure…
those battles that make the heart pure.
therefore, I tirelessly battle invisible monsters,
wrestling god in pursuit of lost hopes and dreams.

–

hope is the mother of misery
i find myself growing weary of her presence
and outlasting tests of time
to beg mercy of an invisible god that isn’t there nor doesn’t care
and re-invent reasons to endure
attempt after trial, unto my last breath
make-believe defeat, faithlessness is a passing cure
even the strongest can’t persist indefinitely

–

analyzing life stopped in the middle of a thought
i caught myself again, contemplating end
left to brush off nightmares i simply can not mend
nevertheless… despite all, i still am
and strength is heaven sent
if i could i would run fast, hard, and far
the spirit will scar just as easily as the body does
if you’re naive enough to care…
so i choose to hold no grudges and turn away hurt
pondering past wrongs is to give them more attention than they deserve
bygones be forgiven, lest enemies change me for the worst
if life’s a stage i wont act i’ll write my play
and refuse to let fear deprive me of tomorrows
or allow past ills to direct the outcome of today
whether my cup’s half empty or half full makes no difference
i believe in refills
beaten down, i dug my escape from many dark holes
abandoned by friends and left alone
no one needs to hold me i learned to hold my own
suspicious of helping hands and kind intentions
the good things i have i hold close
never to barter for misconceptions of a better life
the grass is just as green on any side as it is where i stand
the ground is whatever color it’s seen as
so… a nomad homesick for a place i do not know
i take the world as my own and invent paradise

–

dead trends, and lost feelings
leave vacant bodies where a man’s soul would be
infatuated by commodities and small talk
washed out love songs, and greeting card cliches
everything can be had, even love, but is it true?
a civilized life is stripped of meaning
I take comfort in knowing I can die
sweet solitude, there’s no place I’d rather be
and no other company I’d rather keep
hiding within myself I find refuge in dreams

–

intellectual decay
starting out struggling, most genius never sees the light of day
the clutches of poverty breed self hate
as for survivors…
to stand out from the rest is a bitter fate
a novelty item to be used, scolded, and discarded
those that break; Suicide takes as its dearly departed
it’s a pleasant addiction to loose yourself in material wealth
self worth is a trophy on a well dusted shelf, and enlightenment for sale in aisle twelve
strangely enough, everyone is a slave forced to participate
the devil’s reincarnate is the toil for money and success
regarding the value of the two, i couldn’t care less
not worthy its weight for my self-respect
so i play along, pay my dues, and avoid this mess
intellectual survivors know how to pretend
as a well kept secret lost among the rest

–

lovely underneath
looks can deceive
my aspiration is to create a masterpiece
the only true possession i have is me
therefore, playing god, i create myself from nightmares and dreams
respect of wealth is to disrespect the self
no legacy will last, regardless of how great
everything that is shares the same fate; an end
never to be seen or heard from again
all in good time…

lights in the darkness
muses have conquered their essence
ascension to the divine is refinement of the soul
pure in all its intentions, true creation is genuine
an expression from the core
unclouded perfection from the sincere of heart
art, a reflection of man, serves to bring the soul closer to the divine
and the divine is the self
beauty is honest, and fearless to stand unique
to, despite all the world, accept and to be

–

i find no pride in where i’m from but am proud of what i’ve become
past scars and struggles can make you beautiful if you let it
then i’ll step aside and paint my soul out of messes
freedom is to bear no resentment
if the divine is to create beauty out of chaos
then god resides as a dormant choice in everyone
i’ll make something divine of myself, quarantine the rest, and never look at the past
the beauty of life is to let it be what it is and that is whatever you see it as
so i choose to laugh at hell and shrug off heaven
in an ambitious effort to become an element of my own, free of definition
with nothing to fear but myself i’ll be my own remission

–

burning bridges and concealing footsteps
leaving no tracks lest i find a way back
the intent? to get as far away as possible from where i’m from
traceless remains, i wish memory would do the same
avoiding the psychological aftermath written in sores and hurts
trying not to think of what happened because it could of happened worst
lost battles are often victories concealed
but i don’t care as long as i don’t have to feel
some things you must lose before you realize you needed them
some things you don’t need until you’ve lost them
a blessing regained is something to hold close to the heart
something to set apart
men can love angels if they take the chance
nothing divine is to great to grant
even the devil is proffered redemption
the only obstacle is conceit
victory springs from fearlessness of defeat
and fearlessness comes from fearlessness of one’s self
therefore i choose the road untraveled
oblivious to obstacles and regardless of scars
as long as it caries me far

–

counting brushstrokes like days
painting with the colors found in rain
waiting for a change in season to wash it all away

so that i may investigate new ways of being
and despite all obstacles find reason to keep breathing
choosing to stand on uneven land, subjected to hope

the power of life, submissive to no consequence
in the core of the demon and eye of the hypocrite
two faced friends and traitors weave their end
victims of their own devising

needing no god to find true enlightenment
pure in heart, a man can be his own muse
so i’m left to second guess absolutes ingrained
while counting my brushstrokes and painting with stains

–

suicide notes present tempting propositions
missing departed friends while deconstructing afterlife
and investigating lost dreams between the cracks in concrete
if holding-on is what i’ve been doing all my life isn’t letting-go the most humane thing left to do?
wrestling with reason, i’d give anything for an end
not to see what i see when i close my eyes
or think what i do in moments of silence
in consideration of consequence…
no comfort is worth my soul
to surrender battle is to betray past defeats
so i choose to wait patiently

–

Masters of fate
Fend off consolation and dodge tears
Pity is insult to injury
Anything worth having is worth fighting for
As for my life, I’ll take it by the horns
Wrestle it to the ground and beat out of it what I want
Even if it’s been so long, I forgot what I’m beating it for…

–

In the valley where shadows roam
Tracing circles in the sand wondering where things end and where they began
Chasing the sun at the end of a never ending tunnel
Light shines it’s brightest in the dark
I’ve come to love the simple things, romanticizing in moments
Searching for deeper meanings in everyday motions
If everything ends now it was all worth it
If fire makes the heart pure then I take my place with the downtrodden and deserted
Truth be spoken, the rich are poor and the struggle is strangely divine
Life is the power of persistence
Regardless…
I choose to be the friendless nomad hoping to be consumed by that fire
burnt to the vein and crushed to the bone
only to rise again freer than before
as a being of my own

–

remembering digging through trash looking for food
and avoiding people afraid of abuse
a slave in a slum, overworked and slowly growing numb
will i ever be free of where i’m from?
it took a lot of courage to escape
it takes more courage to keep going and not break
to board up old memories and put together the pieces
one thing i do believe in…
to recognize beauty you have to first experience the ugly

–

Searching for myself I found revelation in hell
Life’s struggle taught me well
No truth exist but that of my own conviction
No meaning stands but that of my own devising
And evils are only as relevant as I let them be
I am what I make of myself and all that I will ever have
I am free

–

We’ll All Fall Down

In a petshop behind glass
A little animal dying on display
Life…
Mass produced for consumption
Life…
Living toys that better play
But it doesn’t mater
No need to ask questions when all you have to do is behave
From the cradle to the grave

Shame…

Shame on the fool that believes what he’s shown
Shame on him twice as he thinks what he’s told
Shame on us all, swept away by the crowd
Oh carefree, sweet people, silent is that sound
Of a world which crumbles and collapses, as we all fall down

For shame on these circumstances
But what can you do as a number trapped in masses
Prisoners of life, lost to warning signs and law-abiding passages
The mall is your birth right in the land of rationalism
An obligation to buy or die, as we all fall down

Shame on the needy
The third world wants to sell their children for your TV
But the neighbor has two so he’s more human than you
Reality being; the admirable are greedy
But who am I to speak of shame, when the situation is all under control
Here in the grey land, where the concrete forests grow
All of Earth shall be paved over, held together by cement and wads of bubble gum
A shame it is not to be proud
There will be hard ground, as we all fall down

But what is shame when you have money to eat
A noteworthy bribe, life; easy, effective, affordable and cheap
No need to worry when all are kept in check
The human automatons, machines need not replace us after all
Lost souls of the rat race that float past drive through windows, comfort is the mall
There is an unwritten passage somewhere in a bathroom stall; we’ll all fall down

In a petshop behind glass
A little animal died on display
Life…
Has no place if it can’t function
Life…
Has a price you’d better pay
But why does it matter
No need to ask questions, it is best that you behave
If you’d like to see tomorrow and get through today

Shame…

—

Tiny children of chance that proudly boast an afterlife
Why so fearful of death then?
Trapped on a world cast in asphalt, and drowning in plastic
The grey planet
Modern suffocation
Sophisticated and efficient
Lost to pattern and routine
Air-conditioned oxygen
And fabricated families
Life, perfected and deformed
Into a higher standard…
It doesn’t mater to me
I think I died at birth

—

Fade gently…
Self induced extinction and destructive tendencies.
Painting methane skies and boiling seas.
You see, it doesn’t matter if we all die,
Since no one else would know.
After all, we where just another dot in the sky.

—

Strangers

Secret defiance! I found a spark of life…
Seditionist verse, hidden between concrete cracks,
And decorated by shards of broken glass.
In solitude, a flower considered a way to grow.
As a colorful impostor, occupying the corner of Gray Grove.
“Progress makes strangers of us all.” I told it,
As the stop-light declared it time to go.

Smuggled truth! I found a fragment of wisdom…
Poor righteousness, hung beneath fluorescent flickers, sighting a selection of vandalism.
In solitude, a poet considered a revelation and left it’s blueprints in obvious indignation
As a crumbling movement brushed across the grains of a forgotten wall
“Even though I dread, I choose to live free of regret.” I commented, a stranger to it all
As the No-Loitering sign reminded me to go.

Tired eyes! I found reason for resign
Suffocating in strife, begging for change and table scraps of life
Beside the old church holding out a paper cup
To believers and saints passing him by
But God’s grace moves in strange ways, they had already given their tithe
So he waits, a fading dream the living rather not see
As hope is the mother of misery, it’s hard to find reason not to give up the fight
“Suicide is for those too smart for life.” I stopped and thought

Yesterday’s horrors fill tomorrows with dread
Some call it a beautiful struggle, others don’t live to see the end
I’ll be honest, to me, no one is a friend
Condemned to fruitlessly toil and dream, if this is life I have no desire to be…

But one thing I do know for certain,
One thing I came to see;
If you have razor blade scars
Keep those close to your heart
Because life’s not worth dying for…
So as master of my fate
And captain of my soul
I bow now, and confess it time to go.

–

Ghosts

 

“I’m dancing through life on splintered feet… The devil rejoice in the poor man’s grief.”

 

 

God…
They say; he made us in his own image.
Homicidal, inconsiderate, insane?
Cold to the suffering of others?
“How I would hurt you back!
You! Of all! To suffer like us!
If only I had the chance.
Show me your face, you coward! …”
Says the developing alcoholic.

“If all men have been created equal then why don’t all men live equal?”
Says the mass produced retail refugees.
How I fear to once more,
Suffer the fate of the poor.
Bankrupt ghosts pushing about metal mesh and wheels,
Bearing those last belongings in a shopping cart,
A cold mockery of their inability to consume and to buy.

 

…The rich plow about those devises as well,
Across polished floor for short periods of time,
Filled with un-necessities boasting to enhance their lives.

 

Modern ironies of a strange society,
Unable to pity those that surrendered to struggle,
And wait for sellers to take repossession over life.
“Stop breathing, the air is mine!”

 

But, over time, we all die
Leaving the same way we came,
An inconsequence to the Universe,
As little things obsessed with nothing,
Inventing reasons as why to try.

 

–

 

Poverty

 

The root of evil is the shadow of the beast.
That cruel thing called poverty.
Biter, angry, cannibalizing, defeat.
To hopelessly lie at the bottom of the bottomless pit.
A place where suicide tastes sweet.
Where it is a curse to breathe.
And love a terrible lie.
Where friendship is a distant myth and families know only to weep and cry.
Where men loose themselves trying.
A place where the only comfort is the blinding deception of another’s ideals and dreams.
But how should truth mater here?
It is a worthless absurdity.
Clouded by things that struggle keeps one from seeing.
Give hell another name, and surely it would be poverty.

 

–

 

“I stand as a shadow in the land of ghosts. Still born
…Abandoned to the habitual rhythm of everyday.”

 

 

–

 

Spiders

 

Fragments of a dream
Woven into a web of misconception

 

I’ve been trying so hard i forgot what I’m fighting for
I’ve been fighting so hard that I finally lost myself

 

Lost…
Who am I?

 

The promised land was never promised me
Utopia is a lie
Fashioned from the fabrics of naivety

 

Reality is a world of greed
Where those that eat to live are preyed upon
By those that live to eat

 

Here it’s easy to mock the needy for being weak
And the starving?
…How they do desperate things

 

It hurts to live like dirt

 

Oh you fools!
Whose song are you dancing to?

 

Won’t you see?
What you do to the children?
Suffer them…
Curse us for what we leave them!

 

An unforgiving place,
Infested with sorrow
Earth
Angered by the deeds of yesterday

 

They will have no future
No tomorrow

 

…But I

 

I will be no god’s fool,
No leader’s belittlement,
No man’s mean to the end.

 

…Instead, like a spider, I watch.

 

“Lost… at least i found myself
Trapped in that reality of pain
And suffering
A simple beauty in conquering the impossible
Free now, no evil will ever overcome me again!”

 

–

In Rosebushes

 

In rosebushes I wish to lie
Buried beneath crimson clouded skies
Tangled in thorns
Never to shed
Another drop of blood or tear
I will be hidden
From life’s torment and fear

 

Disregarded by time
I will forget how to speak
Never…
To utter another idle thought

 

In this place where the past buries its dead
Everything fades from memory until finally lost

 

As the wind comforts me
With it’s warm whisper
My face grows lurid…
Slowly
Let it wither!

 

For it is beneath that blushing sky
Bound in twisting rosebushes
Where lifelessly
I will forever lie

Forgotten

 

 

 

–

“What haunts a new refugee’s sleep?”

 

Who, who, who, who,

Who broke the refugee?

 

The, the, the butcher,

The hater,

The great big decision maker.

Turn them out!

Traitors all three.

 

–

 

Because I can do naught but grieve
This ever-twisting tale I see
Of a crumbling world drenched in greed
It’s nations drunk on mad conceit
And their patriots that bask beneath
The shadows of their omni-righteous deities
I’ll close my eyes and in that joy of sleep
Out of pain,
Paint a dream…

 

–

 

The Student

 

“Suffer the little children unto their last breath, and forbid them to be, for such is the will of the state. Verily I say unto you, whosoever shall not break as a child, he shall not enter therein. And he took them up from 8:00 to 3:15, conditioned his will upon them, and made them as the empty and dead.”

 

I am the student
I am the learned deceived
The dreamer not permitted to achieve

 

I am the disciplined kept on a leash
The one biting my tongue not licensed to speak

 

I am the oppressed, tyrannized, the victimized wishing to be free
I wish behind gates where I’ve been penalized
My age is the crime for which I’ve been institutionalized

 

I am the pupil
The follower, the listener
The prisoner, analyzed, corrected, improved, then approved
The taught with a thousand censored thoughts

 

I am the listless puppet whose limbs move wherever they ought
I am the child, the adolescent, and the youth
The pet taught to be passive
If I do not heed I will face rebuke

 

I see the way I am supposed to see
And speak the way I am supposed to speak
I assume my position and am where I am required to be
I must be discrete not to displease

 

I’m the slave told I am free
I am the hypocrite that pledges to the hypothetical flag
The fool that faces this foolish rag
Driven mad by the fact that I’m promised life, liberty, and happiness

 

–

 

Cold,
Cold,
Cold,
…How I feel alone in a crowd
Crying inside because “Me” is not allowed.

I am…
Empty
Empty like an empty book
Told how to think and how to look
Living according to graphs and diagrams
Of ordinary Men and Women
I know don’t exist
The skeleton of a soul
Unable to be filled or grow
Eager to please

…Please
I am numb
I am gray
But… I feel?

 

–

 

“Tears fall like feathers in silent oblivion.”

 

–

 

“In the shadow of the beast, I lost myself trying.”

 

–

 

“When ashes, ashes, ashes, ashes, ashes clouded the sky
Mother came running, running, running, running, running, and told us all to hide”

 

–

 

Moths And A Candle

 

“Hungry consumers
From the land of opportunists
In pursuit of happiness,
Credited the world away.”

 

Father, father if you’re there,
Oh god, oh please, show you care.

 

Justice is a hopeless dream,
Lost among those angry screams,
From the monk with kerosene.

 

Father, father, are you deaf?
Oh god, oh please, this feels like death!

 

Truth is a casualty when nations bury their wrongs,
Casting the shadow of bullets and bombs,
On broken hearts and Wounded Knee,
On tired eyes deceived by dreams,
On families crushed through poverty,
Faceless bodies, gray flesh, and grief.

 

Father, father, I beg exist!
Oh god, please stop! End all this!

 

Deceived by lies in the land of pride,
Where wealthy leach hope off the weak,
The poor are banished to the streets.
Where greedy economies prepare their feast,
Feeding the consumer and the beast.
Where soldiers become faceless statistics sacrificed for success,
We leave our children a world condemned to death.

 

But darkness, darkness, no one’s there,
A shadow of life leading nowhere…

 

–

 

Freedom From Dignity

 

“I am the still-born future,
The aftermath of theory.”

 

I am a surreal phantasm trapped inside a madman’s dream
Created by a delusive educator who failed to conform me into the institutionally- approved human being
An unachieved prospect whose mind became deluded with unacceptable perceptions of- reality
Diagnosed as another socially challenged abnormality
I was hastily graduated, dismissed, and formally banished into society
Condemned to become the well marketed must have dreamer, entertaining commercially- promoted fantasies, while cowering behind Television’s far-fetched illusions so that I- may numb my distraught yearnings to be free
Behold! Before you stands a human
The scientifically renowned walking mass of organic goo
Evolutions chanced achievement
Foolishly deceiving myself into believing that I’m a product of divine creation whose-life bears infinite meaning
I this thinking piece of meat
Made sub-atomic among indefinite numbers of human live-stock
A unit specially bread for labor, schooled into ignorance by another of histories-self-righteous civilizations
Forgotten on a earth which is hopelessly lost among countless other earths
There is where humanity great and unsurpassable slowly vanishes from memory
Cast into unfathomed armies of worlds, that shrink to particles of dust as they clutter- unending skies with limitless constellations
Cloudy formations of stellar patterns, which create the Milky Way
An over populated fiery spiral passing unnoticed amid boundless myriads of other- galaxies
All listlessly adrift within the universe’s ever expanding eternity
And, somewhere, lost in never ending multitudes
Buried among the cosmos ceaseless display of kaleidoscopic chaos, is a self-important- molecule desperately trying to be significant
Another trivial spark of life quickly obscured into oblivion by the incalculable grandeur- of infinity
This is your individual, the fool hiding behind conceit
Only proud because I’m ignorant of myself and humanity
My body is my prison where I have been self-condemned to insecurities solitary- confinement
Isolated so controversy remains only restless thoughts
Unborn poetry that, if given being, could unleash a maddened uproar of suppressed disquietude in raving floods of verbal fit
No! Such words, given voice, are dangerous and must be aborted
The offender quickly crushed into submission by social handicaps, in institutions- confining grip
Truth ought not dare to escape
Therefore let those silent protestations scratch at the caverns of my skull
Time, with the resignation of age, will eat away all youthful incentives for opposition- and make their claws dull
Look at me and you will see a living example of irony
The thoroughly flattered human would-be under the influence of acceptance
With such eagerness striving to appease status quo that I make me my own enemy by committing the crime of apathy
Willingly suffering under self-inflicted captivity while listlessly cleansing my thoughts- so that they may reflect the social standard of healthy patterns for a scientifically prescribed institutionally processed mind
Oh! Behold that which was meant to be human
This credulous and indifferent fool carelessly degraded into another statistic
Tagged, numbered, then filed among nameless masses of dehumanized and refined- beings
Irrational, superstitious creatures who once mistakenly believed to be divine, at last- liberated from the tyranny of integrity by faithful obedience to structure and system.

 

–

“Break the children, bleed the people, and the rich shall inherit the earth.”

 

I was born to be cattle feed for politicians
A ladder for the upper class to carry them higher
Now I voicelessly call myself a liar
As I bear their goals on my back

 

I hear the pledge and the truth it lacks-
That meaningless allegiance to life, liberty, and happiness
These words haunt me as I toil and slave for another’s gain
I dared honor them- bound by social chains

 

I am here to be an economic resource
My class is the disease and work the only cure
I dream of release, but it is not mine to procure
Work will set me free

 

I must hush that burning dream of liberty
For I am only a unit of labor
And have been given that grade and label
Which tells me who I can be
After all where would the world be with actual democracy?

 

I am obliged to willfully receive my portioned existence
With the least or no show of resistance
I am expected not to know
For knowledge makes one’s mind grow
And there is no room for individuality in status quo

 

Ignorance is bliss and requires less space
It is least selfish to remain in a mindless state
Therefore I should not question my chosen place
Or ever attempt to rise above the confinements of my social fate

 

I was born to listlessly bear these chains
And choke back tears as I neglect my lacerating pains
For I feel myself lingering away to empty dreams
Falling, I scream muted pleas and unvoiced prayers for relief
That none will ever heed
For they are merely vulgar notions
Unstable moods brought about by adolescent emotions
There is no reason to be so discontent

 

Yet, I fear one day I might assent to the system I resent
Relinquishing within the bitter torment of that appalling reality-
My life is not mine to live

 

–

 

Angel

I met an angel that had two wings
Now they’re broken with dreams that remain unspoken
Silenced, for dreams carry you to high
And when you look down
You might not like what you see
You won’t come back once you’re free

 

I watched the piper play his melody
He beckoned all the angels from the sky
And trained them to labor for another’s paradise

 

I met an angel that beamed to bright
With thoughts to noisy for ears
Truth must be silenced before anyone hears
Therefore they drowned the fire in his eyes
With waves of experts that told him otherwise

 

“You mustn’t have to much passion for life.”

 

I saw an angel that was too free
And disregarded authority
He leaped past his gates of captivity
They sawed off his wings so he wouldn’t fly

 

I watched an angel suffocate on her leash
Her collar grew far to tight
Giving one last disturbing sigh
As their grip tightened
She took her life

 

I listened to an angel cry
She let her tears shower from the sky
In a bitter attempt to be heard
The world took cover, waiting for her eyes to dry

 

I watched those angels grow
As their wings got smaller they fell bellow
And vanished within that inhuman society
Where they never wished to be

 

–

 

Strange Dreams

 

Strange dreams…

Stir now, sleeping consumers!
Discomforted by unthinkable acts of self-preservation.
Another sacrifice to the “Greater Good” left bloody bodies that blatantly clog our conscience with their memory.
Victims of self-justified, pre-forgiven atrocities remembered only as nameless statistics that slowly melt into our collective forgetfulness.
The controversial stench of guilt is easily sanitized, then dismissed, before entirely buried in today’s trivialities and tomorrow’s news.

 

eat

Smile now, oh self-proclaimed elite!
Leaders that make fools of your people
and cannibalize life
Today the gluttons make a feast
Wealthy murderers guiltlessly rejoice in the spoils of blood as they declare victory.
God has blessed those who oppress in the name of their own well-being.

 

…god?

Where are you now, oh absent deity?
The one that made man, then walked away, and has long been reasoned out of existence.
Your holy men do unholy things then hide behind their holy scriptures.
If they speak the truth then god must be a hypocrite!
Nothing more than a pointless riddle written into holy books.
…deaf, blind, and mute.

 

death

 

This is the death of man.
Incarnated into that abhorrent form of a deified Nation.
An omnipotent demon, drunk with conceit, casting the shadow of fear and of grief
Of bullet and bomb…
To reap death, that mad fruit of power and pride.
Bred upon the faces of fathers, while lacerating the flesh of children, and tearing apart the hearts of mothers.

 

strange bitter dreams…
Sleep.

 

–

 

Weak
My world coming to an end
Falling apart nothing makes sense
Love is the deception of a moment
And family a self inflicted lie
If I had tears left I would cry
Oddly enough I still chose to smile and hide
Bearing a disguise that slowly wears with time
Fooling none but myself
Fooling myself
A fool to myself
Not sure why I try

 

–

 

A Dream

 

I waited for the mute to speak
And tell of their wisest thoughts
I waited for the wars to cease
Oh, the vanity of what I sought

 

I waited for utter silence
From the funeral bells
and from man’s violence

 

I waited for a tiny laugh
For the broken hearted to be glad
How I waited and it drove me mad
It was all of this I wished to see
But life it seems can’t be a dream

 

–

 

The Story of Nothingman From Cubicleland

 

“Dig your six foot hole for the rat race,
Sell your soul for the rat race,
Your time ticks away, so make haste!
If you wish to win this rat race
And become rich in this mad place.”

 

Highflyingman from Makebelieveland
Began the day with big dreams and plans.
His face looks just like your’s and theirs,
All shining, fresh and grand,
And far to young to understand,
That he was standing in quick sand.
So he leapt into the rat race,
And vanished without a trace.

 

Nobodyman from Nothingland,
Comes in early and leaves late,
To earn his nothingwage.
He toils and slaves,
Has never lived a day,
And hopes things will change,
But his hair is turning gray,
From living in this nothing Nowhereage.

 

One day Nobodyman decided to take matters into his own hands,
And came up with a neverplan!
…While talking to an office plant.
He would quit, then walk away,
And finally escape,
By abandoning his place,
To seek life and its meaning.
But, instead, relinquished to daydreaming.
He was trapped in society’s nowheremaze.

 

Nobodyman from Nothingland!
As years wore him with age,
He turned old, and gray, and slowed his pace,
So they finally put him away.
A retired fate in that dead-end place,
Alongside all the others with a wrinkled face.

 

Forgotenman from Hasbeenplace
Died, but long had been replaced,
With another Nobodyman,
Eager to fill his unoccupied space.
None remembered his name,
And as his memory fades,
He vanishes without a trace.

 

–

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