[x]

GodThere is a God. I have seen him snap the necks
Of children and inspect their hollow remains.
Pushing past the sinews, there is nothing there.
No prayers clogging the arteries, stopping the rush
Of blood, a blackened jet.
Their mouths had not yet learnt how to
Form 'hail mary's'. Tongues twisted at the sound.
The syllables choke.

There is no use lying to a child who when asking
For God, finds only silence.

He is not interested in them. The purity sickens.
There's a boredom in innocence that causes him
To turn away. His eyes are better fixed on those
Who can praise him. The shallow whore who never
Thought her life would take thi

A Legacy of WisdomYou have scribed your words,
wealthy wreaths of wisdom,
on paper never torn or worn.
You have etched your passions
on my brow.

You have left this wallowed world
victorious; eyes resplendent
with the wisdom you wrote and wrought.
Your passions shall echo in my ears
unto eternity.

And should I stray into some
sullen storm, or get caught in
the torrents of the monsoon, I’ll know
that Lear’s been there before, and
I’ll not swoon.

And if Hades’ doors open up
before my stranded soul, and scorch
it with the heat of hell, I’ll recall that
I am not the first – Dante’s been down
there as well.

A

NonexistenceI pray to a God I have never seen,
who lives in a world that has never been,
to save my heart that has never felt,
from eternity's failures, eternity's guilt.

My feet step on grounds no men stepped before,
my lips taste the poison, bitter and sore,
yet it does not kill me,
does that mean,
that I am immortal,
or that I've never been?

I pray to a God that may not exist,
while the iron shackle tears up my wrist,
to tell me the difference of being and not,
to show me the memories that I forgot.

My mind flies to places nobody has reached,
to learn that the stars are nothing but bleached,
spots on the dark, they're not even light,

AnarchyScream the anthem of the anarchist!
What is it? Exactly.
I won't tell you; make it up.
Go away. Blow it up.
Burn it down. Deface the town.
But don't give in,
Never -- no.
That's the song we all love so.
Freedom past extremity.
Far away, in my backyard
I own the world; I am a bard.
I wear a beard and shave my head;
All the normals want me dead.
I won't give up; I ramble rave.
You'll never make me behave.
My brother, loser, freak, meek geek
You know-- the beatnick, hippy, punk--
The rock bands my parents debunk--
We treasure what we cannot have:
No allegiance to any flag.

out of Gardenwhat sea
how it is welling your eyes a wet mess

what tide
where urchins of the ocean will spill to howl their elegy
where mermaids will turn widows
once brine has swallowed whole their sailor babes

stewarding the land instead
is why i never set sail with you

but to lay in gardens, oh…

a bed sheet rotten by the ultraviolet
and our laps full of stars

what black soil will pervert your knees there
where moonlight will mirror out from your teeth
to run fanatic toward cosmic space
after bathing in the space among us

where walking air pushes every dust

one of sun-dried butterflies
one of beaten rug with broom
one of hone

Perspectives of a Hallucino...Comfort. The softness of the basement couch. Misery loves company.
Trickling through my fingers. Whispering across my face, her disappearing
lips trace across my cheeks. The smell is sweet, but she is rough against
my throat. Her smell isn't so much intoxicating as it is suffocating, yet
the smoke paralyses my senses and touches my soul. Her street name is
undeserving of her effect on me. Forever, she shall be known to me as
Mary-Jane. I will never know her beauty.

r

the plasticized quantum theory

alabaster immortality
une voleur honteux
slip of the tongue
in each saturated pore
spectrum rehearses its symphony

crooked whispers of a flute
a glimpse of blue infinitude
quiets the confines of los alamos
¿quién es él? eso piensa
en kaleidoscopes

paralysis in the peristalsis
jewel in the vitreous humor
phosphorescent anti-matter
until it watercolors
the poison of psyche

papillae the plagues
oxidizing ash and ember
a quivering effigy
splinters the moon
instinctually

the mirrored hand exhales
swept the epileptic ceiling
dissolving tendrils of mahogany
detached from the retina
unblemished

tranquil, t

existentialist pick ups...where have I been all my life?

ScrutinyAnd when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin…
~ T.S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

I am going through the keyless gate
to watch and wait,
to wander here and there among the proud,
among the white and old whose wisdom rots, repressed, untold:
the soporific royals wreathed in leaves of gold.
And to them I shall read aloud from the Book,
read of the sins their lips have took
and upon me they shall look and patiently reflect…

“I am lost in my own depth,” I will say
in a slight, impartial way
(for I lack violets and an antic prin

Vampires heartacheI awake in the night;
I can no longer sleep.
I don't see myself in mirrors;
I see somebody else.
I am alone.
I am dead.
The red stripes on white flesh
Keep me somewhat Sane.
I stare at the ceiling;
It is as cold and dead as I am.
The pain burns within;
as my life slowly fades away.

Wolf's Rain

Snowflakes fall, blood is in the air,
Covering white figure of pride,
Lying forceless on the ground,
Having no strength to fight with the snow,
Nor even with reality,
Which drifts down from the empty sky,
Where the moon cannot be seen,
Where birds cannot be heard,
At which wolves can only howl.

Suicide

I'm so sick of suicide
It's everywhere I look
Pictures, and in movies
In poetry and books

I'm so sick of suicide
It's pathetic and it's weak
Blah blah blah so awful
Outlook always bleak

This life's just not worth living
Could they be any more cliché'?
I know that I just can't go on
Isn't that what they say?

Do you live in China
Without freedom's basic choice?
Are you a woman in Afghanistan?
Forbidden to have a voice.

Are you starving now in Africa?
Surrounded by disease
Or under corrupt dictatorship
Forced upon your knees

These people rise to challenges
We cannot comprehend
They live their lives from day to day
And triu

Procremationso he said let's make a baby
she said let's just make
love
and he said
What's the difference?
She said
A snakeskin
or a little pink pill
And he said
Isn't it about time... she said
You're never old enough
to die
She said Make life-- make
death
and he said
What's the difference?

I like my life she said
he said that won't last
she said I feel
no need...
he said
Well, maybe I do

She said Sow your seeds somewhere else then

Emo

Emo is black.
Emo is red.
Emo is a love of darkness,
But always needing some light.
Emo is the way you look,
But more the way you are.
Emo is resisting the world
Because you can't stand routine.
Emo is loving everyone you know,
Even if sometimes you wish they didn't exist.
Emo is hurting yourself or your body
When deep down you really love them both.
Emo is making your own choices,
While relying on your friends to make it through.
But really, emo is not caring how fucked up you are,
Cause there are so many friends just as fucked up as you.
Emo isn't hate.
Emo is love.

the god memorandum

To: You
From: God

Take counsel.
I hear your cry.
It passes through the darkness, filters through the clouds, mingles with starlight, and finds its way to my heart on the path of a sunbeam.
I have anguished over the cry of a hare choked in the noose of a snare, a sparrow tumbled from the nest of its mother, a child thrashing helplessly in a pond, and a son shredding his blood on a cross.
Know that I hear you, also. Be at peace. Be calm.
I bring thee relief for your sorrow for I know its cause ... and its cure.
You weep for all your childhood dreams that have vanished with the years.
You weep for all your self-esteem that has been corr

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NomenclatureOh Doctor, Doctor heal me!
Oh Doctor, set me free!
Oh Doctor, Doctor heal me!
Oh Doctor, set me free!

I don’t feel the pain anymore,
Nor can I feel anything at all.
I’m nearing the brink of insanity,
I’m running into a wall.

Break it down Doctor!
Can you find my curse?
Is there hope Doctor?
Or is it getting worse?

I thought that dying hurts,
But maybe I’m already dead.
So if you pull the cord,
Will it matter what I said?

Daniel McAllisterI was always so upset,
But now I’m just ashamed.
I used to get so angry,
But now it’s all the same.

My bed is empty.
My room is cold.
Am I getting senile?
Am I growing old?

I stare at stars.
I swim in sewers.
I cheer on the winners,
But I’m watching the losers.

Here comes the circus.
Here comes the priest.
Eyes fixed on the congregation,
Like a fattening feast.

I used to be so bitter.
I used to be so sick.
Now I’m just a geezer,
With quite the nervous tick.

I tried to stay positive,
But the sun isn’t coming back.
I tried to light some candles,
But all I see is black.

The voice gets louder now,

A Crack In The HoleThere’s a crack in the hole.
It’s been there longer than I can remember.
For all my life this hole has hung there on the wall.
Something I can wake up to every morning.

Sometimes it is occupied by a door.
One that’s always locked from the outside,
Always keeping me safe inside,
And imprisoned.

Sometimes the hole has been filled with a window,
Putting my despair on display.
Making me into a circus act,
While I look out and wonder,
If I’d be happier outside.

Once there were bars there,
Letting me reach out for freedom,
But making me happy for the security I have.
I felt the fresh air grace across my wrinkled

Remerciement sans visibiliteToday,
A date of lament.
I have fallen from a cloud,
Through which I used to soar,
But these cardboard wings lift me no more.

Alas,
I find no comfort in human joy.
No solace in petty laughter.
Yet to be held,
Lo!
To be loved!
It shall spread warmth through my heart.

My eyes fell out of my head,
And I heard them shatter upon the concrete.
Yet I see once more.

Nay,
'Tis not a miracle,
But a curse most dreadful.
To see through the eyes I was born unto.
I wish for better fates.

I see naught but blood and fire.
For eyes stained with illness,
I trade in my former life.

I see Picasso in his prime,
And through a thousand tints

Persian PrincessJust give up and be lifted.
There’s more to life than this feeling of resolution.
There’s nothing worse than thinking you’ve made it,
When the starting gun never sounded.

Don’t be a disappointment to those around you.
We’ve had enough of those.
Today is the first day on a countdown.
Until we’re lifted from this world.

He left a path behind him,
But I chose not to follow.
I chose to fall in love again.
I chose to make my own path,
But the needle in the compass keeps spinning.
It makes me dizzy with disappointment.

Leave your shoes and money at the door.
Don’t be afraid to leave your clothes on

Beyond The BordersI have traveled in every direction.
I went west to California,
And I went skiing in summer weather.
I spent a day in a car,
Admiring the work of what some call God,
And what others call nature.

I went north to Minnesota,
To hear the works of Keillor.
I saw capitalism at its worst,
And gave in to it.

I went south to Tennessee,
And watched the crucifixion of Christ on a cold April morning.
I saw the rivers of the world convene,
And had my first close encounter with the Lepidoptera.

I went east to Washington,
And I didn’t stop to see the corruption.
I saw the history.
I saw the science.
I saw the methods.
But still the mi

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by ~pikaroadkill, Jan 13, 2008, 11:17:51 PM
Literature / Poetry / Philosophical / Open

I spent the night asking
"What have I saved?"
"What do I take from today?"
Christmas and the dawn after
The television only on
To light the page
All it displays are lies
Relationships and elections on camera
Nothing but reality
But everything empty
I among them
A crown once lost
But I'm finding myself
Within the sentence fragments
While I try to quell her jealousy
Over what others have gained
Because I giveth nothing
My cup runneth over
But not with anything you can measure
And I empty my cup
So that my heart may refill
Day by endless, floating day
Never do I pause
So I bid thee good morrow
For the day has long passed
These words fare and find thee well
For you are all I save

Within Sentence Fragmentsby ~pikaroadkill

Literature / Poetry / Philosophical / Open

I wrote this on Christmas. I had just received a very nice new journal and a pen set and just started writing. Some narrative, some romantic, and some philosophic all happened at once.

=frotton Nov 3, 2008 Hobbyist Digital Artist

Hello,

I have featured this in my journal: [link]

Great work!

~Fuzzhead1031 Jan 13, 2008 Writer

I Love it... Im sorry for how I made you feel that day..

I know that I was jealous of her... Very Jealous but you present was better, it touched me deeper and I love it. I kiss the photo and say goodnight to it every day. I love you

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Within Sentence Fragmentsby ~pikaroadkill

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