Monday, April 25, 2011

Nice people

Nice people
Nice people,
Have family style homes, a ranch, a loft, a mediocre mansion,
Nice people,
Live in the suburbs, with white picket fences, and lush green yards,
Nice people,
Play golf, not cause they want to but because they have to,
For work,
Nice people,
Have 2.5 kids, the mothers stay home and fathers wear neckties to work,
Nice people,
Give money to charities, instead of their time,
Nice people,
Don’t curse, cause they don’t fuckin need to,
Nice people,
Take family vacations down to the shore,
Nice people,
Celebrate holi-days with their families,

New years- DAY, Easter Sun-DAY, thanksgiving- DAY, Independence -DAY, Halloween -NIGHT, Fathers -DAY, Mothers- DAY, flag -DAY, Christmas- DAY,
And if their Canadian,
Boxing- DAY,
Nice people,
Have the answers, to questions no ones asked,
Nice people,
Don’t kill other people; they just pay other people to kill other people,
Nice people,
Aren’t racists, but there REALLY ,REALLY glad their neighbors look like them,
Nice people,
Are accepting, as long as they don’t have to directly accept it,
Nice people,
Smile, even when they take a jab at you,
Nice people,
Don’t fight, mostly cause they don’t need to, they have the police to protect them,
Nice people,
Shop, Cause shopping is an American past time.

Nice people,
Are just that, freaking nice,
Their just so peachy freakin keen,
But even peaches are rotten on the inside.

So just for reference,
I’m not a nice person.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011


Im beggin you,
Take a hold of my hand,
This place scares me,
I don’t know where I am.

Im beggin you,
Look me in my eyes,
Enjoy the view,
See past my lies.

Im beggin you,
Press your lips against my lips,
Flesh upon flesh,
Drink me down in sips.

To the sound of my voice,
Gently spoken against your ear.

Do you even hear?

The desires I have begged you for,

Only moments, only seconds,
“Where are you?”
In the dire deepest depth,
The cell of this forest is closed upon this sight,
A sight,
A sound,
A drowning of stimuli,

Where is the night?
Where has it gone?
You have left in its embrace.

The sound of the morning rise,
Reminds me of your loves demise,
For days ago I held your heart in my hands,
Now the grasp is open, revealing nothing but the sands,
Of the passage of time,
 The erosion of our loving monument,
Breaking, cracking,
 Into shoddy compliments,

Hollow, so echoes the call,
“Where are you?”
Where are you this fall?



Weep and wipe the raindrops tears from your eyes,
Salt, the sea has come from inside,
The earthly heart, the sinew and bone,
Inside it’s hallow is our home,
The den, dug down, keeps us cool,
From the blazing sons of the fleshy ghouls,
Outside, with their fire in bottles,
The cure’s is theirs and their fathers.

War, fighting, disease and strife,
Here, in the den we have none in our life,

The den keeps us cool and safe, free from strife ,

So we watch the end, of the flesh of men.
Staying safe in our deep den,

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

why we fight

Its starts with a gnashing of teeth,
The animals fury is frightening,
The man has left the shell,
The animal has entered,
With an animosity so amazingly austere.

Cries in the night,
Nullify the gentlemens words of withdrawn aggression,
The beast has bellowed, belligerent,
It demands destruction,
It adheres to its animalistic advances.

The fighting forces feel the ferment of an advancing atrocity,
An alacrity so alien to the civilized,
The animal eats its, quaffs it down,
With inhumane celerity,
The man with the bellicose boistering,
Finds fear in the animals furious eyes.

The once present man is an eidolon,
No longer physically present,
The beast has unburdened itself upon the fragile flesh of its foe.

Monday, April 4, 2011

1:45 Fight

Did you get the memo?
Spring is arriving tomorrow,
Shes flying in on the red eye at JFK,
Her baggage will be late two weeks...

due to international stipulations.

Reflecting pools,
Tears stream down the rocky facade,
cause they know that she'll break their solid still beating hearts.

Bringing warmth and adulations,
Pleasant breezes whispered in the night,
Close embraces in a fronds light,
Raging, bringing forth a delicious sensation upon this granite exterior,

Life, lust and joy, unhampered growth.

So cry mountains, let loose your springs of tears,
Though spring will be here before the end of the night,
She'll be gone for good before you'd like.
Eons of epitaphs have echoed for ages,
Through the timeless transversing of titles and tithes,
from all the profound sages,

Knightly courts,
Capricious gentlemen,
Have catcalled cattlemen,
Blasphemed blacksmiths,
Curtailed callers and squirely stitchers.

On goes the gallant glorifying genuflections.

Answer in anvils,
Answer in austere remarks,
Recall, Remember,
Revolt, Relent,


The toiling troubles.

The singular suffering,
was without,
was without,

The true tenacious travelers,
Always answer to the cacophony of the call.


All great men die before their prime,
Die at too soon a time,
It takes bombs, guns,  and fire to stop their flesh,
Their words cut short.

Clay was a warrior of this solid earth,
Sinew upon sinew,

You are a fighter of words,
an orator for taking up swords,

Dictionaries, Theasaurus, Jive Talk,

All great men die before their prime,
Die at too soon a time,
Just look at me,
Im still alive.
Crucify ME,
Make a martyr of ME,

Not that long limbed, ivory skinned,

Cat called christ,
Who spoke the finest jive,
Whose body turned to ice,
Hanging from that cross,
For the souls of the lost,
Down the wrong alley of morality,
Did that COOL cat ponder his mortality?

No that jiving, hippy hipster, Pounded a tambourine,
Swirled in the living, If you dig what I mean,
Turning water into wine, Resurrecting the dead unseen,
That was his living,
That was his moment,
That was his scene.

What a cool cat,
Long hair, sandles, on a goldent throne he sat,
Yeah they martyred him,
For what he had been,
A jiving young hipster livin in a squares den.