and Blue

Fifty stars.

Laced the heavens.

Watch murders live

on September eleventh

Hail

victors Christianning

Sunday soliciting.

Plate passing pistol king

Sun gods are riveting

Hail.

to the Sunday sympathy

the, is there a God mystery

plate passing pistols kings are

Rich men just like we are

Over you

obituary

Over your

restrictatary

simplify the soldier war

with visions of Voldemort

When You Make Toy Guns

Every last dime of news time spent

on these Connecticut kids

and what their deaths meant

I'm sickened as I listen

to these pundits as they spew

what people absorb as heart breaking news

It could be your kid

it could be mine

it's the point that they subtly

beat into your mind

the breaking news is

we're preying on your fears

and no one seems to care

When 20 kids die

we ask the question

why

and it's karma

this is what you get

when you make toy guns

this is what happens

when you make guns fun

this is no surprise

just open your eyes

and buy a gun

because the killers got one

Language is Fatal

Victims and victors
it doesn't get any sicker
than the way everyday
we choose to dismiss her
she's a tool to be used
like a screw for a picture
to hang on the wall
like a symbolic fixture
of distraction...
it's all so unattractive
with angles as bare
as the load on the brackets
slandering space
like a belt on a fat kid
whose use is a noose
to choke down the racket
of everything
because God is a jelly bean
and I find it unsettling.

Dumbocracy

Sumer became Babylon

and then Iraq

they controlled it before

now they've taken it back

if you choose to resist

well, then we're hanging ya

old school murder in new age Mesopotamia

Energy flows where your attention goes

like what they don't disclose

the totalitarian tip toe

if you payed attention

you would have heard them mention

building seven falling before it fell

or the seven “hijackers” that are still alive

after burning in crashes where no one survived

what's the next “official” story you'll commission for me

This ain't the age of God

it's the age of Nimrod

the statue of Semiramis

enslaving all Americans

it doesn't represent liberty

it's Babylonian history

they bow to the great queen

and it's us that they're raping

We're on the cusp of a new day

the illusion is fading away

you've been repeating the lies

dark suits in disguise

but we're still freeing our minds

they fear if we find

the keys that we'll drive

with no regard for the limit

ignoring the gimmick

Genetically Mastered Oblivion

To prop 37 you voted hell no
no more organics, just Monsanto
we don't eat food, we just swallow lies
even those are genetically modified
it's the same damn thing in every other spectrum
with 2 term puppets winning elections
so sick and tired of being that guy
screaming at you people to open your eyes

You're weak, and looking for meaning
a human with no sense of being
a stupid person on a smart phone
an active cog in a hell hole
to prop 37 you voted hell no
who gives a fuck about a GMO

Living in a world that's so deceiving
all we do is watch 

and seeing is believing
in a culture that has mastered submission
we pray to God like he won't listen
when religion is nothing but a comforting fiction
we kill our brothers and cage the others
solicit women on magazine covers
our sick minds are pornografied
we waste our lives in pursuit of lies

Pray Pray Prey

You can pray to God
but he won't listen
because religion is nothing but a comforting fiction
put your money in the plate and pass it
separation between church and taxes
cling to comfort and resist change
the age of man is only a phase
beg for justice and get religion
death is the only given 
we kill our brothers and cage the others
solicit women on magazine covers
our sick minds are pornografied
we waste our lives in pursuit of lies

Pasadena

It's a small town outside of Houston, Texas
The highway there is lined with chemical companies
and the stench of smog and industrial waste fills the air
I distinctly remember the big white drums and pluming smoke stacks
the many dark nights being driven or even fueled
by the excess of their human condition
I was just a child trying to sleep
awoken by bangs and screams of punishment
if violence was beautiful then she had no equal
absorbing punishment like a rag on an oil spill
later used to wipe the dirt off my cheek
so I slept through bloodshed a time or two
in it even if you checked the other side of my mattress
but I still count myself lucky
to having seen the rape of my own flesh
because innocence is a suckers game
and my eyes are wide open watching 
 

Can A Dream Change Your Life?

The following is a dream I had last night, after waking I couldn't help but feel my outlook on myself and life had changed.

It starts in a townhouse I lived in during middle school in Houston, Texas. I'm there all alone in my living room when one of my neighbors (who wasn't really a neighbor of mine when I lived there), a black man, knocks on my door and drops off the mail I received while I've been away. The mail consists of two packages. The first package I open is full of CD's that I've owned throughout my life but do not possess currently. It's mostly burned Cds with art I had drawn on them, and at least one of which that was not mine. The next package I open is full of pictures of me when I was young. The only ones I vividly remember are of me and an uncle of mine with his wife. Except the woman he is with wasn't really his life and the events in the pictures never really happened. The pictures were of the 3 of us laying on the floor looking at each other. Before the end of that part of the dream a girl comes into my house through the back door. I don't
actually recognize her, but she has the feel of an old girlfriend. We leave the house and walk outside and we're no longer outside my home, we're now walking along the sandy bank of a river. While talking with her I stop suddenly and take hand fulls of sand and have a revelation. I remember apologizing to her, and telling her that I was a self-righteous asshole. I remember feeling like I meant it on a broader sense though. I wasn't saying I had just been a self righteous asshole to her, that I had just realized I had been one to everyone. I sit in front of her in the sand crying for a while and that's how that section of the dream ends.

In the next part of my dream I'm in a truck and I'm a child again, with my mom, and she looks young
and beautiful, as she once was. She is the passenger and I am in the back while Willie, the man she was with for 10 years is driving. He's all doped up on pain killers though because of a foot injury he sustained (in reality). Now it's back to the town house in Houston. My mom is sewing my work pants, and she's sowing words to the inside of them. I don't actually read what they say but I know it's some kind of life lesson. Then I'm outside my home talking to someone that's too vague to remember. He gives me a pair of pants to try on, but they are far too big, I remember saying something like, "these pants are for someone like 7 feet tall", and he says, "no they are not". The next pair of pants I try on are my own and older pair that I haven't worn in a while. They are worn and have holes in them, but it a somewhat stylish way. The man goes on to tell me I should be an actor. When I awoke from this dream I couldn't help but feel it was the most important dream I had ever had. I can be a bit of a self righteous asshole to people. There is very little love in my life. I'd like to think the two are unrelated but that's unlikely. I generally feel very distance to the general population. I look down on them from the pedistal I hold myself on.

I may have done a poor job explaining exactly how this dream affected me, but I came to work today and tried to be as kind as I could to people I'm normally somewhat rude to. I hope I can maintain this feeling, the self righteous asshole bit is all a defensive mechanism anyway. Thanks dream for telling me what I couldn't see myself.

Dream Smay Come True

I awake to heartache from dreams I can't quiet remember
like gum to a shoe the feeling sticks
I reach inside myself to pry it loose
my arm chest deep down my throat
deeper and deeper I go
until I feel it
and it's hardened like my spirit
and I pull like a fool
not knowing the consequences
but it just hurts
to want to see you so much
and feel like this every time I do

Where Did The Silence Go

Why do we behave this way
we stay enslaved to the day to day
deep down we want to break away
from this heard mentality
this life of fallacy
the phallic fantasy
where men dominate over dick size
and use women to accessorize 
are we this weak by design
I just smoke weed and try not to cry
at the futility of doing this again and again
these people are my friends
on hamster wheels

The illusion we live in
the lies we tell
to ourselves and anyone listening
the crimes committed
every god damn minute 
are the result of what?

If not at least by our own design
the lives we live are clear fucking sign
of failure
and it's embarrassing
to share your feelings
when no one's listening

American Legacy

In the distance there's the glow of fire
and the sounds of men approaching
if you panic for a moment
it's you that they'll be toasting

Symphonies of soldiers sing
the triumph of their soldiering
while blood trickles slowly
down the streets they're patrolling

From infancy to infantry
we're bred to kill the enemy
regardless of the penalty
the world is white supremacy 

Without A Trace Of Humanity

I'm scared that it's just a game
and however small and trivial it is to you
for me it's something else completely
I'm not certain at all that's the way it is
but it is what I fear
I don't expect you to understand the depths
of why and how it is for me
without ever having told you

To sum it up
I'd say I'm hurt and lonely
whether by consequence or design
it is my reality
I spend a lot of effort indulging others
and learning their story
because it means something to me to know someone
and have them share a piece of themselves with me
but I give very little back in regards
to how I became who I am
because I am rarely asked

A Tragic Scene

Look just like this magazine
it's money, magic, and gasoline
convince everybody that they must read it
and hate anybody that tries to resist

Act just like this modeled scene
television baby that's what I mean
fix your eyes on the fame and fortune
hypnotized by what's unimportant
make that money and cry to Jesus
and hate anybody that tries to resist

Think just like a human being
brainwashed just like you and me
resist change, do it all the time
hate everybody
that's the bottom line

The Path of Least Resistance

From a distance those red roses
fade away and lose their focus
and the only way to cope is
to water down those emotions 

When we talk I have a motive
I want to feel something explosive
with a little less disclosure 
I feel the need to win you over

A yearning to be closer
and have your head on my shoulder
if only for a night
to leave me yearning for another

If it wasn't for our distance
I would show you what you're missing
loving hugs and soft kisses
lustful bites
so delicious

Like Magic

Sharp and precise like knives 
cutting through flesh like lies
and the secrets that I hide
are the kind that protect my life

Welcome to my mind
it's like an active crime scene
like a twelve dead baby drowning
I told that dead bitch, crown me
and the crowds roar was astounding

The crown he wore was blinding
these words just like gears grinding
mixed with the sound of lightning
like the night I killed the right wing

Sometime my thoughts are frightning
because I always say the right thing
like the magic mounted white king
buried in your psyche 

Something Like Love

So I'm starting to have feelings for someone. To be honest it has been a little more than 3 years since I felt this way. This time around there's a whole new sensation involved, something that feels a lot like heartbreak and depression. My last relationship ended terribly, and I was very heart broken. I understand that plays a factor, but it can't be the whole thing. Is there a love muscle? Has it been so long since I used my heart in this way that it's sore like an under used muscle after working out? The alternative is to say that the psychological trauma of heartbreak  has physiological effects years after at only the presentation of similar stimuli. This girl and I aren't even dating and I won't even see he for another 8 months. But just talking to her, and having those feelings and emotions develop is definitely having some negative side effects. The human body, you never cease to amaze me.

All Apologies

I tried to warn you
but you wouldn't fucking listen
clouded by your small dicked ego
and liars insecurity
I don't need you at all
you fucking bitch
I'd rather strangle you
in front of everyone
fucking cheering
at your worthless death
that's how I feel right now
and if you choose to  talk back to me
one fucking word
I'll martyr myself
to ensure your death
you insignificant piece of shit. 

Gingerly

When our heads touched
I had enough
I want to pull your hair
and do nasty stuff

When I taste your lips
it's all but certain
it's payoff time
for all that flirtin'

It's not just lust
my heart is racing
each kiss makes it hard
to face you

I always want
what's out of reach
I've had a taste
now I want the peach 

Socket Man Vs The Power Cord

In my dream
I now slay monsters
it's my world
and I'm God's imposter

When zombies tried to feed the serpent
a live baby
death was certain
so I killed every single person
because I'm man behind the curtain

In my world I murder people
if they choose the side of evil
in my world their are no prisons
my will is the worlds religion

The Taste of Blood

My scatter brained anger
and discontent spent
working for men
who like me
are shells of themselves 

My love life lost
to one woman scorned
who continues to break my heart
in my dreams

My intelligence wasted
on distractions
and inaction
talk a big game
and play video games
rinse a life away
at the end of the day

It Don't Rhyme Cuz I'm Not High

My feet hurt and I'm real fucking tired
exhausted even
at the day and the notion that I have to do it all again
and again
this is surviving
not flourishing
I get hungry and crave Burger King...
I need GMO's in my salty sweet addiction
I got a sore throat and my gums bleed for no reason
and the doctor says nothing because I don't see him
because I slipped through that crack long ago
I wake each morning hoping what ails me, won't
I hope my feet don't hurt when they hit the floor
for that days first step
because when that work bell rings
I fucking obey
almost every day
they call it choice
I call it surviving 

Lust For Lisa

For what it's worth
the down and dirty
lives we live
are so unworthy
of existence
because death is instant
every moment is quite exquisite

For what it's worth
the rhyme and reason
the short skirt girl
with a mind for pleasing
sees the world like I can't
through the lens of love
she sees no demons
she sees free men
with choice and reason
for what it's worth
I don't see them

In the beginning I was oblivious. My first real memories are all beyond that point. The spinning in circles until you were nauseous. The fantasy toy worlds and pure imagination play times. The epic water gun fights running bare foot in the sun light. All those memories marred by the mistakes of mothers who need men too much. Enamored and jaded you took the beatings better than anyone. I saw you get thrown off a second story balcony and land on jagged rocks coming away so much worse for the wear. But you were still here, and so was he. For 10 years they battled like titans, and I watched. I remember the first time he hit me. He was on top of her punching her in the face. Blood was splashing onto the wall and all over my bed. I was screaming "I hate you" at the top of my lungs right next to him. He turned around and open hand punched me right in the mouth knocking me on my back. My lip was busted open and bleeding. Now I'm fucking angry. Ten years old with a mouth full of blood and pain. I got off my back and grabbed my baseball bat and swung for his head. First and last time he ever hit me. Wish I could say the same for her. But that's the moment it started. You can't hurt me. I stood up to a grown man as a child and knocked him out. I have a hidden fury that is my pain and power. For years I carried this flame in me and other could see it in me. Some where drawn to it and some feared it, I showed them clever, I showed them spirit.

One Of The Few

I'm sorry
when you deserve more than just sorry
the petty reasons why
are meaningless compared
to the depth of the sorrow
I clearly owe you more than this
but the explanation sounds
more like a cop out than it is
words can be actions too
to justify to reasons we speak
I learned my passive attitude
is weaker than the outcomes
and sweeter in the moment
until I learn to break the chains
I'll never truly own it

MK Culture

MK culture is
what our culture is
capitalize on lies
that are sold to us 

MK culture is
so adulterous
alpha wave slaves
brainwashed to soldier us

MK culture is
so mischievous
subconsciously they feed us
and we're eating it

MK culture is
celebrity icons
modeling a lifestyle
you can't rely on

MK culture is
meant to break us
enslaving mankind
by controlling his mind

A Whole Lot Of Superstition

Some defenses
render me restless
like a woman and her ways
to render me senseless

It's only a phase
it's only a flavor
the way that we behave
we're wreaking of failure

Height of a prime
a whole lot of suspicion
work your life away
because of superstition

Swollen with anger
with danger in the air
as debt to society
you get a career

Are you making a difference
are you part of the cause
are you doing your part
I hope you're breaking some laws

I hope you realize
that we're all victims
to the one percent
controlling the system

Dead Man's Perspective

It seems they seek to put an end
to anything unique
it seems they seek to manipulate
the voice we need to speak
it seems they seek to dig our graves
just below the surface
and if we choose to misbehave
they'll show us what our worth is

Because what is life to man
if not something in his hands
fulfill his demands
don't you know you're here to dance
just below the surface
you'll discover your new purpose

Living Life With Laws

The working man
The working wage
The newspaper front page reads
"We're all slaves"

A working body
A working mind
A working weapon fires
At the front line

A working plan
A working force
Mechanized children
Do their chores

A working watch
With working hands
Strapped to the wrist
Of a working man

He lifts his arm
And a child cowers
With only minutes left
Until the zero hour

The whole fucking world
Is a piece of work
A piece of art
We sleep in dirt

Naked Girls and The Golden Wasp

And in my dreams it seems I seek answers
to questions I don't dare to ask
about the past and present
of the untaught lessons
my mind hungers to know

While I sleep I creep
into unknown worlds
It's lawless and violent
like it should be
and when I know it's a dream
I am God of everything
except the details
of which I lack attention 

No Surrender

It's the common theme, the American dream
where people only watch, but don't intervene

We pass-iv-ely
let
these
thieves
rape our wives
smash our dreams

Lets redefine... 
chalk outlines
on the outside we surround the front line

bibles, rifles, handgun psychos 
suicide bombs in my Nikes
infiltrate the human psyche
click here if you like me

Everyone, anyone
scimitar city son
new world kings of Babylon 
a star fell and killed God
and the people sang the saddest song

Awake to the sabotage
of human potential
the intuitive mind
that you can't remember
while the knuckle head choir
sang no surrender 

Attack Of The 50 Foot Jesus

Who is it that sees us?
It's the 50 foot Jesus.
Hovering above us
he's coming to please us.
Delivering speeches
curing diseases
leaving us speechless
whenever he frees us.
From the cruel realities
and all the subtle causalities.
From the day to day
life that we call battling.
Leaving our brains sizzling
at the end of his tongue
while our body's baking under the sun.
Frying as we're trying
to break free from the heat.
When he finally eats us
it tastes like defeat.
Nobody saves us
because nobody see us.
We're in the shadow of the 50 foot Jesus