With unrestrained alacrity, the mainstream
Bleaches its anus. Savory loblolly hologram
Summers. I like banjos. I like
It’ll grow back. You are the first black
Person I have ever met in real life. This
Alcove a strobe so ablaze with resplendence
The sun itself cast doth a shadow! O my nasty God.
Votive pyromania. You people.
As white as the presidential race itself. You have snapped thrice in a Z
Formation. You have a sex so rough it’s concept
Ual rape. If I’m never afforded a Borealis, at least let me
Witness a meth lab explode before I die, shiny trinkets
Marring my pedicured lawn, my neatly spaced shing
Les, my cloture so blanched it brings sight to the blind.
Tears won't stop
Part of me is missing
Another part burns
Pain pulses through my body
Sorrow comes, refuses to leave
Sitting in anguish
Words of anger
Poems of hurt
My only love, always hurting
Cuts me deeper, yet my fault
Simply friends and I need you
We lie in fury
My stomach twists
My heart stalls and withers
My mind doesn't calm
I sit here alone,
in a hope that you still love me.
Smiles a fluorescent wind
Eyes of blue smoke
Floats around my existence, not knowing
Looks my way rarely, yet peers
I see him, my love box forgets rhythm
Lungs aching, needing to inhale him
Touch I'll never know, but yearn
An aroma of sweet sincerity fades fast
Sounds of a melody, consumed by tranquility
On my toes, I await our next encounter
Knows nothing of my obsession
I sit utterly deficient in his presence
A virus eating all life
Like an angry metal song nobody cares for but the artist
Tragedy that people are ashamed of
Blares word of my non-existing use
Mistakes produce miracles, cares nothing for
Carved my child out of its safe place
Shoves hate inside affection, keeps me isolated
No reality to be claimed
Swings wrath in a rage of fists
Burns my soul with an unspoken voice
Feels nothing but whirling delusions of inhaled poison
Waves of unwanting come, yet never leave
Made me the greatest shield I can carry
Every time I see her I become weightless
like a soul hovering in light
a feeling incomprehensible
as my heart is taking flight
her face, a lovely mirror of her soul
a rough and tumble woman with a touch of gentle light
a loving caring angel with wings as black as night
her eyes closing sway and curtsy gentle as a feather falls
simultaneously possessing the charisma of a woman who's got balls
She is Hecate and Athena, she is Magdalena bold and fair
She is the only of her species, she is a flower bright and rare
her lips entrance with soft curvature along her cupid's bow
her snake bites hang like punk rock prayer flags upon her lip below
her gentle eyes could paralyze one as Medusa's stare
I have not seen in life or dream another quite as fair
Her blackened hair with midnight glare forms perfectly on her crown
I imagine it feels in my minds eye as soft as fleecy down
her nose proportional to her face as a statue of Aphrodite
she carries herself as nothing else but as a woman, strong and mighty
Her punk rock charm reveals an anarchist, a rebel, plain and pissed
with a spiritual side that is mystified by a cloud of memetic mist
Breathe in, breathe out
Halfway there to anywhere
Your heart says to be
Where is now?
How is up?
String words, sentences, thoughts
Together into some rambling unconscious
Train of thought
Next stop, when
Train departs wherever, whenever
The wind takes you
On a whim you decide
Next stop, freedom
Then free will-if it indeed does exist
The phone rings-its mom again
Wondering where you've been
Everywhere and nowhere you say
Here and there and back and forth
It's not a lie because
Where have you been but within yourself?
I'm tired of people
being biased against people
being biased against people
being biased against people.
Why pick a 'side'?
They are all right.
So they are all wrong.
If I ever had to pick a side,
the only side I would choose
would be sentient beings.
We are here on this planet
as guardians of all life.
Not to bicker.
Iconoclasts Arise! Take up your Hammers, take up your words
Iconoclasts Arise! Turn darkness back to light to the ends of the earth
Iconoclasts Arise! From all your death comes all rebirth
Iconoclasts Arise! Rejuvenate man to a new state of mirth
Image Breakers you are loved
A simple gift from the stars above
Ignore those who say that you are hated
just because you are elevated
Iconoclasts Arise! Take up your pens and axes now
Iconoclasts Arise! Remove their masks, remove their guns
Iconoclasts Arise! Beat swords into plowshares in a holy vow
Iconoclasts Arise! Reunite mankind in unison!
Image breakers, you are the ones
Who set the fascists on the run
Stealing from the rich to feed the poor
We are starting to need you more and more
Iconoclasts Arise! The pen is mightier than the sword
Iconoclasts Arise! Stop us before the next world war!
Iconoclasts Arise! So write a poem or a guitar chord
Iconoclasts Arise! And find the symphony in the Discord!
Image breakers, you lead the way
You burn our ignorance away
and rise as the pheonix from the flames
So we can see another day.
Why copyright a song when there are only so many chords to play with?
Mathematically, a song I write tonight will be fated to be written again in the future.
Whether or not I ever show it to someone.
Why copyright an image that has already been stolen?
If I painted a chair, I did not create the chair, or the method of painting,
the woodsmith who designed the chair took the design from another.
We cannot own music, and we cannot own art.
We cannot own sound, and we cannot own inspiration.
Just like we cannot own the wind or the sky.