The Last Hounds of the Pilgrimage Dog

The moon is calling you in a howl
and it’s on the top of the world
You see too many in our word
and yet welcoming us like no tomorrow
while you sail yourself out
to arrest a lonely mind
and a solitary figure calling out
for a company and loyalty
The lunar flowers are here without hesitation
and I can only smell death and affliction,
and your peace,
and another woe passes me by
with no ease

By the Long Fall of Stretch

Razing yourself down by the couch
because you know you got no time
or a even just a slight sense of it
You’ll know it when you’re twenty

Just another drag to them
Just another life passing
by the long fall of stretch
of all things y’like to build and
these groceries’re all overrunning
and the desks and chairs
and corporate attire
but I think I’m still a child
Still,

I think I just need time just because I want to
I writhe on the bed when I need to
until the universe gives me the path, or

Razing myself down by the couch
I’ve not wanted to have time maybe when I’m thirty
and have groceries and desks and chairs
and corporate attire
Just another life passing by the long fall of stretch
but I’m glad I’m twenty

Killer Bees (Nihilist Pt. 3)

Never were the shadows
casting all your woes
Our hope is bouncing off of sun
Would you still be there,
Could you not be there,
After all, we’re letting go
until we’re safe and sound
There’s beauty in decay
There’ll be another way
for you and me

Never were the evils
casting off of your sins
Only you can forgive yourself
Death’s a beautiful help
Life is a towering wall
A soldier fights to die
until you’re safe and sound
There’s beauty in decay
For there’ll be another day
for you and me
until we’re safe and sound
The killer bees will make their honey
and the night will clear you away

Arresting Development

Consummate your marriage when you’re a never-nude
Applaud your friend when you’re readily backstabbing
Love your girlfriend when you’re sexing a dude
Profess your profundity when you’re bullshiting
Protesting to be objectified when you enjoy it
Expand your vocabulary when you’re abusing the thesaurus
Despise mimicry when you’re excellent at it
Live by your choices when you’re depending on self-help books
Lament your woes when you’re actually happy
Try beating them when you really want to join them
Write like Edgar Allan Poe when you don’t even know poetry
Praise God when and only if you’re asking something for him
Purport honesty when your life is a lie
Love your job when they’re exploiting you
Maintain a poker face when you want to cry
Disguise your poverty with seemingly branded clothes
Love yourself when you hate everything you do

The Heart Shivers to Your Thoughts

Mustering hope
for memories you grope
Threading in tightrope,
dashing off of noir
The heart shivers to your thoughts

After all the dreams
while stealing daylight
because your truths’re uptight
with the things you love the most
until the mind shivers to your thoughts

Aimless memory,
and your eternity
or must I wage war with time
An accidental crime
‘O clear the night

to this midnight man
The untimely sighs
in weightlessness,
The heart’ll shiver to your thoughts
We all are loaning time

The Dead of the Night Recoils Down the Pavements

The dead of the night recoils down the pavements
There’s an eternal sleep for you as fear takes
the anxious wives and latent husbands
at the slightest sight
And all the flecked butterflies creep like terrorists
and chanting

at the dead of the night recoils down the pavements
Panic is a warm gun in the wake
of your ignorance
which is the bullet from the height
from your mighty horse, and saying they’re curing the disease
and running outside and singing

like buzzards, everything seems melodious
and so all that’s to see
is the proof that men’s not only blind but dead

They talk of sins, they’re all from Dis
And I can’t relate that much
but I’m guessing anything goes
So yes, your fear is my problem
You’re the same disease
So get off your horse and take that gun off your hand
Because it’s a proof that you’re not only blind but dead

Dionysus in the Jungle

Hearing oceans,
the river in your skin
Can I swim with our hands,
grazing like silken
in shadows rise the risks
In thoughtlessness,
bodies that snare

Stillness is moving
across colorful leaves against yer skin
Dionysus in the jungle
and the gushing of wine

The running wolves in waters
in colors rise a whiteness
In all blackness,
Colors that snare

tears of unawares,
the bursting blankness
Sleeping in the woods
With running wolves in waters
In every despair,
Happiness that snare

‘Ole aimless mem’ries,
how do you see?
yer tart wine burns throats among the wolves

Cheerleaders

They love y’all and but they despise y’all,
everything asymmetrical’re in a stall,
waiting to wage war in the name of beauty,
dancing to the tune of the ugly

Cheerleaders make their way to the fields
Bores come to burn the prairies
They’re always behind themselves
Bores can’t see their own ghosts

There’s always time to lament
and there’s no time to appreciate
What d’ya want?
Wage your war and ye’r one of them too
What’s yer slant,
are ye one of the scenic hues?

Ye want to be beautiful ye become uglier,
a story to tell if ye’lways wanna defer
The gifted and callous have’s,
succumbing to the revolt of the slaves
The consumer is consumed,
fairytale suicide will have to offend

Two-faced (Atheist Pt. 3)

The peace-loving orations they are,
them all, who’re also going to war
Are we dead yet, are we there yet,
are we powerful enough to kill?
Smothered by Mary
Drowned in Water
Nailed in the name of the Father

They could be living adrift their two faces
to reserve one in heaven
They could be molding their two faces,
their oeuvre that is the beyond

The love-loving little Pascals,
them all, who exorcises the human
but calls it the order of the only Star
and wagers to presence

While the privileged saves their hide
and the prisoners converse,
that the ordinary is truthful,
the intellectual is forged,
and the ruling is useful
Just waiting to be thought of

Evil (Atheist Pt. 2)

Rose releases us
in fifteen minutes
Papa gives birth to us
by three o’clock
I let go this time ‘round
I’d give birth to swords
this time ‘round, my lark

Never was the evils
washed away by black-clad
mistresses of their emperor
And turning us all
to concubines with their
creative book
The killer bees will make their honey
in sulphur and internet and placard
and diamonds and guns

The Drunkard (Atheist Pt. 1)

The dark side got me on a lighter sigh
Revelry in inebriation
Brewing my malt at the tip of my rolling tongue
But they think we’re from Dis
so they’re clasping hands and
closing eyes and whimpering in beads
to wish us away
and brewing their worded poison
and cooking their tasteless bread
to wish us away

But aren’t their knees getting weak now
from crouching
while we drink to your derision
and dance to’ yer rains of tears
down your own cheerless foxholes
We have yer sins for food,
now get down the cross
we need some fire
We’re celebrating
We’ll laugh y’all away
We’ve been drinking to y’all sin-operated bodies
but they think we’re from Dis

Drop in the Ocean

The water trickles down the stream,
the tears of the sons of the world
and pallid everydayness
desperateness
clings on winter’s day
in time for sugarsweetbitterthrills

The lark flies down the stream,
the flight towards the roads
less traveled. The openness
of air strangles its wings
with a faceless crowd
So soon did it have

to leave until the moonbeams
shines the waters heavy
while the nocturnals whistle
in the darkness
in the starkness of the shallow streams
The water trickles down it seems

like grains of sand in your hands
The lark amends
The faceless crowd does not bend
to the petroleum butterflies
They want to drown down the stream

and vanish in a drop
And while your hand makes a ladle
You’re neither quenched nor refreshed
and as it dissolves
in your hands,
the water trickles down the stream

Measly Soul

No skies, no vertical
Dandelion breeze sweeps the end of day
No picturesque,
the platinum shines like faded jeans
The unsurprising surge of the farthest points
Nay, the world doesn’t want to know
Nay, your curse is running dry

Apologies to what y’recall
Maybe some other time y’all say,
“everything is picturesque”
But for tonight the view would’ve to recede
The world pawns
no distances just for the sake of your woe
Aye, you’re too much for a sigh

but all sighs’re to be swallowed
Tell your tales on the faded jeans
and write your name on the fiery snow
The world is not as friendly as it seems
But aye, don’t be cheerless,
everyone awaits for your return
We all’re loaning time

‘Ole Sweet Player

I never really thought of it
Oh y’know the lovely words
and sugarsweet garlands
and faces that fit
in their frames
I’m always on a higher state of consciousness
I live with outlaws
and I am possessed by evilness
and it breaks my heart
it feeds my mind

Supposing I never saw you
or ever heard your voice,
What if I never talked with you,
or made verses for you
Assuming I never saw your smile
or heard your boring quips
Supposing I left too early
or came in too late
Would it break my heart
or would I have one at all

All the higher states of consciousness
despise you, for they like
to be told in my verses
But why do you nourish the heart
and starve the mind
But y’know I never really thought of it
Words and garlands and faces taste bitter
while chances are a fate
and I don’t believe in fate
and it breaks my heart
it feeds my mind

Pretension and the Dancing Fairies

Despising is surrender,
oh how you enjoy to concede
Enjoying is surrender,
oh how you despise to carry on
People’s everyday’s violence
and your curse that is your life
Oh you know how to sink
Enjoy your tea,
despise your food

Surrendering is winning,
and with the things y’like to build
Surrendering is losing,
oh you’re a pitiful sacrifice
People’s everyday’s suicides
colliding with your personal genocide
Oh how we love fairytales
Win your stake,
lose your dreams

Oh how you love dancing against actors
Shoot the moon ahead your fan
Glare at the sun ahead your actor
Close your eyes ahead the night
People’s everyday’s violence
and your curse that is an actor
Hate yourself, dance with fairies
Enjoy yourself ahead the fairies

Wolves (Nihilist Pt. 2)

Oh the villain’s gonna get you my friend,
in your sleep and in your nightmares and in your
dreams and in your house and
the thought will seize you,
until it comes for you, nose to nose,
And it howls, tearing your flesh
that is your life
Oh and the villain’s eating you now,
eating you is soothing to you now,
so you asked me if the earth crumbled anew
And I know, I know it now,
you’re going down to ascend
And you meet the free spirits by the yellow taxi rides
and weeping and with sad voices,
exhale noisily now as it eats you alive
and we’re living again,
we’re breathing new air now
And no talking here, you’re just eaten
so long as you swallow it afterwards

Profundity-seeking Automaton

Profundity-seeking automaton
thought it’s human,
perfection of a human
But it’s just you
Oh it likes to breathe
such profound air
It’s what it wants,
this oxygen-breathing comedian
made of fins and gills
It’s mystique, and swimming
oceans of thoughts
Who would ever contest
to this walking contradiction?
A multitude of thoughts to think,
wrap itself around and make believe
in this oxygen-breathing automaton
all’re falling about
to this profundity-seeking comedian
Oh I may be a verse
terse, imaginative verse,
I’m so shallow, I know

Nihilist

So if you’re happy
You know I’ll be in the tip of your tongue
Waiting for my chance
I’m just arm’s length away from you
and if you speak here
I’ll leave you wretched, poor little thing
I’m waiting for my turn
I’m just in the corner of your eyes
I know I’ll always be here with you
I say, “trivial”, you say, “me not me”
I know, “take it out”
You say, “I am none,”
I ask, “don’t you know,”
You know, dabble with laugh
I am your villain, my friend
I know I’m your friend
You know y’want and despise me
I know I’ll always be here with you

The Outsidesucker’s Deliverance

Talking backwards in yer package,
chock full of hidden outbursts,
saying ye’r no dishonor of a stage
and with fastidious audience
Shedding yer nightspot dress unawares
Breaking out the box for a difference
before the tickets’re sold out
D’ya remember ye’r queen of the night?
Oh coz the outside’s a weightless
The best place to be
and somewhere outside’s the best
place for yer highbrow memory
‘coz they’re not as daft as they’re
when ye inscribe them to the stars
Was it rainbow ink or claptrap highlighter?
Oh how the audience’re sentience
when ye’r flouncing the playhouse
with zealous eyes for greater prudence
‘coz but ye saying the audience douse
yer justice’s-sake-performance
Purging and swimming and un-taming yerself
But d’ya remember ye’r king of the night?
Oh mouthing unawares
and also wishing yerself well
Hidden outbursts to sell,
Fleeing the box forever
But d’ya remember ye’r queen of the night?
even in the outside,
the best place to be
And somewhere outside’s the best
place for yer highbrow memory
‘coz they’re not as daft as they’re
when ye inscribe them to the stars

After the Dream

Thoughts are all you need,
a lush of slang and idioms
to get you through the night
Set yourself anew
and here write amongst the fairies
until the mind surrenders
Who said you’re never for respite
and won’t abandon your dreams?
For only in slumber, my muse,
do you come forth to inspire
a weary body
and long forgotten memories

Long fall of words’re all you need,
a forest of bygones and imminence
After the dream
sleep with the ironies
and petroleum butterflies
until the mind shivers to your thoughts
For who said you’re never to adjourn
with a numbing enterprise
of actions and silly games

Wait for the end, my muse,
I’m always happy staying rebellious
until the mind surrenders
or until the mind shivers
These thoughts are all you need

Pornographic Mouth

All minds want to see you for awhile
see you cry, and then they will smile
of course you only want to be sly
Woes turn to winds, so you can fly
so then they will smile, look at you like
a butterfly, ugly worm turns
into a butterfly, your wings strike
all seeing minds so they can mourn
Mourning at your woes, woes turn to winds
they will smile to your hidden sins
Your sins turn to your leaves for rest
the leafy nest, leaves you eat for zest
and all minds shan’t see you for awhile
of course, they have wanted you to fly
to see through your cry, through your cry
you wanted to be high, hide your sins
with your mouth, blow yourself some winds
You’ve charred yourself because you’re too high
Ugly worm turns to butterfly

Midnight Man

Steer the wheel
Change your mind
Dance with midnight
because you're all you have

Drive it fast
Look at empty roads
The light is all you have
towards the ocean

Close your eyes
Fly like the bird
Swim like the fish
and sleep forever

I’m an Insulting Knife

You breathe silently
within the walls of your convenience
while the rest of the world
howls with difference
You’re only happy with no grandiose words
They’re a lullaby to keep you awake,
hushed enough for your nosebleeds
It’s always the way you breathe
your excuses to the wolves
to save your hide
And your oeuvre of a name
saves your skin from the insulting knife
those highfaluting words make

The Long Fall of Justice Pt. 3

Whither is that road
of moat
for depraved souls
of worhips, always good
whence he stood
in deprived luxury

and so in standstills
it's the life he hated
because it's when
he can't domesticate
nut-sedges

he'd henceforth be a million souls
and burn all grasses;

we're too brutal a kind
and he's just nobody this time -
it's the long fall of justice,
so he'll be somebody tonight

The Long Fall of Justice Pt.2

You clear the night,
the day recedes with a sadness
And you got your own politics,
your own so-called waning powers,
slightly, and it gradually dies,
and you and your so-called conflicts
These ill-timed cries
at the end of the day
with all motivations lost
in these ill-timed cries
and the things you love the most
The gold and diamond that is the earth
you coat bloodied with your contrasts
and measurements and pathologies
You've made the woes
of the forgotten world
a pinch in the cheek,
while your long fall of justice
made them all vagabonds

One-winged Sailor

I’m singing over the moonbeams’ drought
like the serenade
And the touch of apathy
while I cross the oceans,
the waters I’ve cried
Traveling with no frontiers
searching the end of the world
A sailboat for nostalgia
while the tide recedes
for sunbeams’ rains
when the morning clears them all away,
these thoughts I’ve made as frail bridge
To tread myself away from you,
and but also for you
So I pray to solitude for flight
I’m a one-winged siren of sorts
and you are the zephyr beneath
Because I like to think
it’s more than a castle in the sky;
I’m flying into you

Boredom

It makes one mindful,
and ignoble to be more
ruthlessly truthful –
like that of a broken warrior,
as to the loss of fiery spirit,
and that it is to a considerable extent,
that the zest for anything is
but the loss of one’s indulgence
to the self by virtue of style,
uniqueness and unprecedented
passion for anything but unimportance
of self-discovery –
and to this one loses
the fight for substantiation.

PSYCHEDELICs

Blue (The Happy Pack)
The ghosts of foreigners
come at daylight’s smile
Into the fields
and the lust for life
Bygones are apples
to fill the stomach
from hungry badgers
of youth-like revolutions
We always stack
the parcels but we always knife
for wintertime’s loneliness
and our apples are much sweeter

Orange (Those Striking Eyes)
Hey Mr. Poetry
is your pumpkin carved again?
Shimmering and flickering
His eyes are too pretty
and your holiday holes a light,
wait for the wicker to burn
You're hard to knife,
but you're raw to eat
your brightness is a sight
The scent of the low spirit
hoists your hands up
as you hold dear pumpkin
While they wander off
with somewhere to be
Oh Mr. Prose you've got to be here

Red (Your Lovely Dress)
And what's for your candor's sake,
when you dress your holy words red
You're the queen of vindication
but your little shouts fade
Someone is going to change direction
away from your ancient bible
of audacious little trifle
when I color my rhymes too,
too red for you
While you always cost
of things you're against with
Oh the regrets you lost
in your own red silk
you've worn in summertime

White (The Painter)
The pleasant voices in your head
while your literature is a must-read
But you’ve went to chew the walls
Must I say you’re great painter too
Whilst we watch, the reel rolls
and the days you catch
for your relationships to sell
You’re painting your walls too white
The fresh scent and the lovely sight
You’re such a story to tell

Yellow (Living Days)
You’re on your silver lining
with a million wreckages and some fairytale suicides
like the somber darkness
of the high noon’s tides
We’re decent people
of everyday’s pavements
and we stitch the rag dolls of our lives
And sometimes we catch
with a million laughter
or other times we are diffidence
Our sleeping daylights
and our living nocturnal sighs
We’re such harmony
and we’re such conflict

Black (Hearing Voices)
I’d like talking to you because your voice sounds nice
I know I sound the hound’s cry
when I say I got what you mean when you sighed
of your sons and daughters fighting over your loss
over a gamble in a reeking street
up where Satan used to sell drugs
And you said you love it
And you said you hated your calluses
while I listen to you talking about your new hair-do
and more fabulousness
of donning clothes, but I reckoned
you hated rooms without lights
because it tears you inside
for you can’t see yourself
anymore when there’s no to see
Like when the world is beautiful
and your life is worth a cent
All these things like cotton
and I still like hearing voices
Though I know I cut my ears

Violet (Beautiful Saints)
You're saying something
something like a romantic
while if you think we're not skeptic
because we're too mean
and we mean riduculous
cut-throat lips
You're kissing what you haven't seen
while the world says we have to hide our ugly truths
while if you think you're given
the streets to mouth your voice
while your good self dictates your choice
of wordplay and manners
while if you think we're mere whispers
while we think like a violent storm
to burn your church down

Green (The Green Eyed Monster)
The green eyed monster
chirps his melody
down the heart's pavements
like ten thousand pins on his back
cringed and but easily
he sings to his queen hello,
goodbye 'ole familiar
You always take him by surprise
He's spilling the milk
he's a downpour on jarred mine's
and compulsions
So down with the excursions
and the wandering mind's
some hollow knitting
Oh his eyes're too green for his own good

Pink (Useful Believer)
"I'm quite sure," you recalled
and your horse jumps too high
an equestrian of strayed convictions
"We want you on our side,"
they say, with a humble face
and a dazed sigh
You're a leader of a handful coalitions,
your divine skepticism
with a swaying mind running with a trace
of making it a living
"Where do you go, criticism?"
my friend says
"Well it shan't be astonishing,"
We’re the convenient believers!

Neon (The Modern Thought)
The timepiece ticks humid
whence everyone told thou you're
next eon's generation
Whilst they shan't be defense
when your ammunition's a thought
and stuck in winter's time,
aye, to them not even ha'porth -
a frozen definition -
Oh the woruld is tense
when they see thou like the spring
thereupon with something to complain
and someone to draw,
the best caricature -
But whither it now dawns
the leaves are falling
Nay, what a dream, the best adventure,
because tis thy betst
the modern thought can do for you