the real life.

Blank minds at conception

Would provide with infinite amounts of correction?

Never, for observation is what makes us clever

Able to endeavor, maneuver, hopefully create

What we experience and sometimes contemplate

Metaphysics are something that sound fancy

Talk some nonsense, print it off

Get a bmw, maybe even show it off

What's the deal with the materialistic road

That everyone wants to take

With blank minds

Primitive animal instincts are all we need

To procreate, essentially mate

While we eat the meat and skin

Forming rural shacks to live in

The books, the minds, and the fears

Stomping down on the ground

Hoping that we might find the center

Maybe of the earth,

But we really know the Aliens were here first.

Success.

I only wish to be a timeless piece laying thinly on the shelf

A ray of sunshine in the forest having the land to myself

That my mind isn't of Descartes

slipping out of my hands

This is only an introduction to the turn of the end

That the end of all humanity is always just around the bend.

While we sip the kool-aid that was offered for the gods

The deism that lingers in all of our scarred hearts

Sacrifice has become the mantra of the wise

Knowing the key to success is where love lies

Depending on the world you occupy or that

which you grew up in

The avenue of success could possibly be, corruption

Using the blood of the fingers of the children who swore

That they'd find the means to purchase a way out of hell

There are those who pray might it be the elite

Whose feet are washed

What more is there...?

poetry?

The mumbling of the lower class

explaining to the damned the aristocrats

That is wasn't the gold dollar in your pocket

It stopped being gold in the 70's.

Society.

Might my mangled hands

Hold this garland in place

While you decorate our fence post

The mailbox, and the safe

I know it's only a ballet

A melody for an hour

Shining your tiara so

you can shine

and devour.

A regular blog, for a regular day.

My daily soundtrack has been Concrete Blonde and Beethoven.

I've been in a very peculiar mood lately. Some might call it jaded or apathetic.

More accurately though I would call it complacent.

Things of varying subject matter are changing.

I'm a very laid back person most of the time, mostly because I do not care.

I'm starting to care a whole lot more about certain subjects and even less about others.

I'm going to really start pursuing a great relationship with my brother Brent. He and I find the same things funny and we both love a lot of the same stuff. So I figure why not? He'll always be my brother. While other people leave, he'll always be there.

I saw the much-awaited movie Shutter Island. I thoroughly enjoyed it. I love psychological thrillers. They make you think, and keep you on the edge of your seat as cliche' as that sounds.

I love DiCaprio as an actor, he's absolutely excellent.

This is an awfully lame blog update, oh well.

Going shopping with my daddy when he gets home. :)

Later.

Pompeii

We struggle towards the inner cities

Where we'll hide and not be found

The immense amount of heat

Is clouding all the sound

They seem to always say

Lightning never will strike twice

What do you purpose on the third time?

Now, here we are, left with unsatisfied thirst

The molten rock seems to become a vice

The choking of our lungs and the cracking of our spines

Might I write a ballad, a sonnet, upon this inflamed chair

Knowing that the gods won't leave me here

Pliny, can't you see?

That the mere disobedience saved you

But, not for eternity

Digital.

Electric currents soon to power humanity.

No escaping the connection

The metal combustion

That's supposed to make us

capable

Capable of talking together, walking together,

Seeing each other, as if for the first time.

Your face behind the glossy screen,

So better then in the past.

Pixels seem to compliment your

Digitally sound laugh

The third dimension

Is supposedly so much better

I guess we've been living in 1-d

All together

I can see you, hear you, know you

Before you know me

Privacy is primitive

Thing of the past

Let our avatars hold hands

Around the globe

We're all typ-ty-touching.

Untitled #13

I

I am more than a breath of air

the blood streaming through my veins

Diagnosed

Normality no longer at finger tips length

We all want to be different

No

The same

All in a book

Quick change

Translate

In a book

We see

Could determine

our breath

our outlook

our blood

Eyelashes

tangled eyelashes

Diagnosed

There aren't any more avenues to take

Until we stop and look.

Untitled #12

Selling off our daughter, and we're killing all our sons.

The ancient voodoo has only just begun.

Might the fear of our words, and the fire that we light

Cause them to tremble and die of infinite fright.

Possessed are those who no longer dwell

In the same exact position you and I held.

We were those who'd survive

Taking down the weak so this stanza would remain

Alive

Progress is the packaging, and human rights screams

The Press

The rotting hearts, and lungs inside never did digress

Might the maggots and the roaches feast upon

Our most vital organs

Standing still while you do all the rest.

Patience, the silent killer.

The mundane repetition of the rain drop.

Hitting the very same exact spot.

Speed is the hero,

patience takes a step back

Murder is the wait

Time no longer lacks.

The perversion that

Dictates all the acts

that only happen

In the back

The recess of my

What we might call a mind

More of a bloody

Organ

That is wasting away

every (drip) (dropping) time.

A float.

My house is sailing

Sailing on

Main sail is failing

I'm holding on

Fore Stay is unveiling

My lies are gone

But there are people in the house

My oxygen tank is gone

Alveoli, how I'm inhaling glass.

Paddle to the middle and grab some cups

Scooping out the water

Till it's all dried up.

Crack, crack, in the back

Back of the house

The only one surviving

Is the mouse

Whom ate the cords to my computer

Stanza.

The street lights

Perform hazy tribal dances

right before my eyes

Enamored with the sights

This dancing of the lights

My spine feels as if

The weight of the world

and the sun are pressing the

two ends of the vertebrae

together

So much, so much pressure.

I've held a life in my hands

I've held all the potential in my hands

Recreating and revisiting nature with

My plans

Infinity, grasped by holding together

The pieces of mirror

The infinite shattered glass

Seeing and containing something

So vast.

My heart is crawling away

Swerving drunkenly down the highway

Sending its message through the pathway

Control channel sending half hearted

Phrases through the waves

Bloody trials left to find

The altered sense of space and time

Words millions of words

In my palm, in my mind

Finger tips away

Just one press every time

The stanza is the exotic bird

My cage wouldn't catch

The lights tease my adjacent lips

The aluminum hissing and popping

A fire like tranquil twist

Words cheapened by words like this.