fast talk
fine print
define the times we’re living
every man
for himself
keeps the monster breathing
the young
the sick
the fairest game
yours for the taking
if you don’t
someone will
money’s what we’re making
watch your step
cover your tracks
you too are quite appealing
cannibals is what we are
and freedom’s what we’re stealing
Posted this on my blog…kinda a poem, personal viewpoint, etc…whatever…thought it might fit in here anywho……
It was as if the paper I printed my goals on was alight before I began. How was I to know it’d soaked in a scentless-incendiary oil that would consume me as if I’d never been? Should I have foreseen my dreams, shimmering like so many photons in precious stones, were in reality razor-sharp shards of glass? Should I have let go before I was shredded? I could not. The sparkle was mesmerizing — my own mental Milky Way.
I’ve little left and nothing to fall back on. Loss and failure have marked me. Other’s can smell it on me even in cyberspace. Finally accepting that the outskirts of normalcy was as close as I’d ever get to the cookie-cutter world saved my life. Was the price too high? I’m free to try and find a path with enough peace to keep me from the unthinkable. Conversely, as the desire has gone, so has my ability to fake it. My disdain for squares and their world is glaring. I scare people. That’s dangerous.
adversity’s not my thing
i like easy, crisp, and clean
cashing in a second chance
never giving a backward glance
but time’s piled up and i’m less free
there’s nothing’s between the wolves and me
down a pawn a rook a queen
life hasn’t worked out the way i’d dreamed
i push curse pray and yet
the further behind in time i get
there is no safety joy or peace
only loss’ lifetime lease
Here another from the psychotropic detox nightmare of amost exactly two years ago now. In some of them I think I have an idea what I was getting at. Mostly, though, I have no clue. I was someone else coming from some place else. I was fucked up…
Betrayed.
Frayed.
Prayed.
What difference has it made?
Are choices really choices?
Or is our path etched in rock before we breathe on our own?
Are we masters of our fates?
Or destined?
your plastic smile gives off
a bitter odour in the untimely summer
rain. i
shrug; not for me
things of stolen beauty.
i dip my fingers in a bowlful of words—they
keep me sane. you
bite the notes of rapture that rise in my head.
(and, suddenly, every
place inside me
is anti-utopia.)
splinters of my dappled heart are strewn all over
our little confetti-laden
coffee table.
your terriblebrown voice cuts
through the trace of a twirl.
(it was lingering over
my fretful toes, and now it’s gone.)
i slip into another world, away
from this tirelonesome
reality, and i
start worrying about my
chipped nails.
Don’t wanna be
a victim anymore.
I see scratches
from the greenback whore.
Wounds run deep
On flesh and soil.
My weapons weak
and armour foil.
Inside my mind
I lead the fight.
Changing the world
from wrong to right.
Steel becomes wood and green surrounds, smog gets cleansed and becomes a cloud.
People are fed and weapons die, I saw the scales shed from my neighbors eye.
The Peace was so loud I floated away, the yellow Sun erased the grey.
Did you hear the music today?
Awake reality
in your soul.
Each heartbeat
is your gift
to create
with
each breath.
Reality awake.
i am that voice that calls your name
when there is no one else around
i am the one that knows you’re fucking up
even before you hit the ground
i am the face you’ve never seen
when you look into the mirror
i am the screams that no one hears
when your breaking point is getting nearer
i am the you that no one knows
because they would never understand
i make you ask how high
and you will do what i command
i will not give in because you beg
i will not respond to your tears
i am the you, you hate that you’ve become
i am the worst among your fears
i will take you as my prisoner
i will never let you win
my name is depression
i’ve come to devour you from within…..
by: paisley
photo:
once again we are positioned
between scylla and charybdis
the chasm that separates us
mythically disproportionate
to your truth or mine
a convolutely hinged catch 22
once again two worlds colliding
yours a rock and mine a hard place
yours somber fore lorn forced inflection
emitted from the belly of the conch,
mine acidic bloody brawling bursts
imbued with absolutions slow demise
only once could we come together
hearts gatekeeper put in chains
bite not from past, that poison apple
at long last find common ground
foundation built of rock on hard place
just this once,, oh mother, mine…..
by: paisley
photo:
first do no harm
then prescribe some of these
should they not work
then they’d better hit their knees
how am i to do
what a bigger god chose not to
so first do no harm
then prescribe some of these
