I have problems
Tons and tons of problems
And I’ll count them all off for you
Not counting all the times I’ve already counted
But will that really make you happy?
Will that really bring us closer?
Will that really rip this dagger out of the dead air?
We have problems
Hundreds, thousands of problems
But are your reminders really just reminders
Or do they stem from this deep-seated hate
The need to change that which is just not there
Because I’m not there
I’m not where you saw me in tomorrow
This is me, the cliché
Love it or hate it
God knows I have
And at times I still want to change it
But this time those changes will be for me
Not for you
Not for a cushy job in the suburbs
With 7 bratty kids on anti-depressants
The world has problems
Too-many-to-ever-count problems
I’m just sick of staring mine down
While you put yours on ignore
“Happiness is easy”
What a beautiful contradiction it could all be
Until then
Adieu
Friday, August 15, 2008
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Back Up Against the Wall
How can you dare,
You psychopomp
You think you know death?
It bores you now
But did you ever know
The loss of oxygen
The division of
blood and water?
How can you say
After all of this time
That life is but a glimpse
Of what comes here in death?
All of these ghosts
And all of these lies
Screaming in my head
Screaming from behind
Look outside the box
Quit your nightjob
Become a humble fisherman
Because who pays you off
When the gods need motivation
Do they suffer the same fate?!
Or do they sell magic
Till the magick wears off?
How can you tell me
After all this lifetime
That all I have done
Cannot amount to much
With the lack of a figure
Looming over my shoulder
And no greater goal
But happiness?
Not ego, nor vengeance
Just happiness
Here's this man of death
But who nurtures birth?
Is there more than the mother
Could this be mother earth?
You psychopomp
You think you know death?
It bores you now
But did you ever know
The loss of oxygen
The division of
blood and water?
How can you say
After all of this time
That life is but a glimpse
Of what comes here in death?
All of these ghosts
And all of these lies
Screaming in my head
Screaming from behind
Look outside the box
Quit your nightjob
Become a humble fisherman
Because who pays you off
When the gods need motivation
Do they suffer the same fate?!
Or do they sell magic
Till the magick wears off?
How can you tell me
After all this lifetime
That all I have done
Cannot amount to much
With the lack of a figure
Looming over my shoulder
And no greater goal
But happiness?
Not ego, nor vengeance
Just happiness
Here's this man of death
But who nurtures birth?
Is there more than the mother
Could this be mother earth?
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
I've Got a Question Mark
I don’t know who I am anymore
I noticed it on the bus
On my way home the other day
I was staring out the window
Looking at the clouds and sun
Looking for something that wasn’t there
And I don’t even know what it could be
It’s not like there was a catalyst or something
I’m a relatively normal teen
I didn’t just hit puberty
I didn’t recently get dumped or rejected
And no real lights have gone on
Or off
It’s just that I look out there
And I want to see something
That was never there
But all of the sudden
I want it to be
I don’t know if it’s an unconscious
Need for change of some kind
I’m too young for this
Is all I can think
All my friends worries are
Who they’re going to take to the prom
Or raising their Cs to Bs, Bs to As
I don’t care about any of that
I want to, but I don’t
No one has started to worry yet
At least not that I know of
This revelation was fairly recent
So these abrupt changes
Probably won’t be obvious
Until they start to settle in
I feel like I’ve moved far away
But I don’t want to move
I want to stay where I am
But I don’t want to miss it
Miss what?
Today we had more career training
It’s a common question
“What do you want to do with your life?”
But today it meant something else
It meant something completely different
What do I want to do with my life?
I…I… don’t know
Is what I want to do even…
Out there?
Does it even exist…?
Maybe it’s only in my head
…So why does it feel like it’s out there
But right in front of me
Watching and waiting
Waiting on what?
I noticed it on the bus
On my way home the other day
I was staring out the window
Looking at the clouds and sun
Looking for something that wasn’t there
And I don’t even know what it could be
It’s not like there was a catalyst or something
I’m a relatively normal teen
I didn’t just hit puberty
I didn’t recently get dumped or rejected
And no real lights have gone on
Or off
It’s just that I look out there
And I want to see something
That was never there
But all of the sudden
I want it to be
I don’t know if it’s an unconscious
Need for change of some kind
I’m too young for this
Is all I can think
All my friends worries are
Who they’re going to take to the prom
Or raising their Cs to Bs, Bs to As
I don’t care about any of that
I want to, but I don’t
No one has started to worry yet
At least not that I know of
This revelation was fairly recent
So these abrupt changes
Probably won’t be obvious
Until they start to settle in
I feel like I’ve moved far away
But I don’t want to move
I want to stay where I am
But I don’t want to miss it
Miss what?
Today we had more career training
It’s a common question
“What do you want to do with your life?”
But today it meant something else
It meant something completely different
What do I want to do with my life?
I…I… don’t know
Is what I want to do even…
Out there?
Does it even exist…?
Maybe it’s only in my head
…So why does it feel like it’s out there
But right in front of me
Watching and waiting
Waiting on what?
River
The jungle had grown to maze-like proportions and the many traps lain by mother nature herself only pushed the endeavors to run out the settlers to standstill after standstill. Although one young boy, we shall simply refer to as River, learned to use the elements to his advantage.
Setting up a ritual of contrition, the entire tribe mourned the passing of several of their best to the dark snares of the jungle; or at least what had seemed to be the entire tribe. To throw off the settlers, River and gang snuck beneath pits in reptile-skinned garb to an outer region of the swamp owned by no man. Setting a gathering fire that lead to the settlers’ campsite, and making sure to dispose of any witnesses within the blaze, half the campsite had become smoldering ash before it could be taken within some form of control.
The settlers’ leader, previously not heeding the tribe’s warning of an angered fire god, finally began to put more stock into their beliefs and moved the camp further back to base. A minor victory, but a victory indeed.
A year or so passed before the tribe was finally wiped out. The few survivors fled and joined the higher throngs of society, telling the story of River and the great fire for generations.
River’s, however, was a completely different and untold story. Captured and enslaved at a standard military prison, he was tortured barely within reason and was then eventually shipped out to Talite. There, with a little help from fellow assimilators, he found himself working out a tiny living in the slums of Neu Haven. Years later, he was caught in the crossfire of two rival gangs and was announced DOA once brought to the local hospital, hours upon hours later.
His last words as recounted by the ambulance technician were, “The fire will never stop spreading…”
How can you learn a whole new language?
When there’s people out here starving and dying
When you walk these slums there’s nothing but murder
The death of those that will crawl under
Can we ever crawl out?
It takes baby steps to get to water
Learn to fish and build a fire
And it takes bigger steps
To know when to quit
But here we lay our tools
Please use them the way you see fit
And when that bridge is no longer burning
The boat no longer turning over
Build a spit upon the lake
To know all things must float away
And not everything is meant to last
And sometimes life and love
Can simply be stubborn
(My last one was so bad and stupid and... everything. It just made me realize how bad my writing had become. So I'm getting back to my roots and trying to tell stories again. This one is... eh..... but it's a start. We'll see.)
Setting up a ritual of contrition, the entire tribe mourned the passing of several of their best to the dark snares of the jungle; or at least what had seemed to be the entire tribe. To throw off the settlers, River and gang snuck beneath pits in reptile-skinned garb to an outer region of the swamp owned by no man. Setting a gathering fire that lead to the settlers’ campsite, and making sure to dispose of any witnesses within the blaze, half the campsite had become smoldering ash before it could be taken within some form of control.
The settlers’ leader, previously not heeding the tribe’s warning of an angered fire god, finally began to put more stock into their beliefs and moved the camp further back to base. A minor victory, but a victory indeed.
A year or so passed before the tribe was finally wiped out. The few survivors fled and joined the higher throngs of society, telling the story of River and the great fire for generations.
River’s, however, was a completely different and untold story. Captured and enslaved at a standard military prison, he was tortured barely within reason and was then eventually shipped out to Talite. There, with a little help from fellow assimilators, he found himself working out a tiny living in the slums of Neu Haven. Years later, he was caught in the crossfire of two rival gangs and was announced DOA once brought to the local hospital, hours upon hours later.
His last words as recounted by the ambulance technician were, “The fire will never stop spreading…”
How can you learn a whole new language?
When there’s people out here starving and dying
When you walk these slums there’s nothing but murder
The death of those that will crawl under
Can we ever crawl out?
It takes baby steps to get to water
Learn to fish and build a fire
And it takes bigger steps
To know when to quit
But here we lay our tools
Please use them the way you see fit
And when that bridge is no longer burning
The boat no longer turning over
Build a spit upon the lake
To know all things must float away
And not everything is meant to last
And sometimes life and love
Can simply be stubborn
(My last one was so bad and stupid and... everything. It just made me realize how bad my writing had become. So I'm getting back to my roots and trying to tell stories again. This one is... eh..... but it's a start. We'll see.)
Dickhead
Bitten, fed
Sometimes I just wish I was dead
Stupidhead
Sometimes I just wish it was dead
But things are never happening that easy
When your life is a joke to everyone and you
Even that annoying kid that likes to poke
*poke poke*
FUCK OFF
…Ahem
Cool point cred?
I’d much rather be dead
Falling in love with moron girls
With perfect faces albeit terrible teeth
And the stupidest fucking phobias
And whenever I ask them
If they’ll please just let me do them
It becomes some national crisis
I’m a goddamn male
Get over it
Sometimes I wish I could get over me
But life’s like that
It makes you feel like the only sane one
The only one with a working brain one
Is there really a second in six billion
That feels exactly like I do right now
Except possibly female
Doubtful, but then again…
Shit for a head
How can it be any worse when I’m dead
Dick for a head
How can it be any worse when I’m dead
I’ll stop complaining when they stop listening
Sometimes I just wish I was dead
Stupidhead
Sometimes I just wish it was dead
But things are never happening that easy
When your life is a joke to everyone and you
Even that annoying kid that likes to poke
*poke poke*
FUCK OFF
…Ahem
Cool point cred?
I’d much rather be dead
Falling in love with moron girls
With perfect faces albeit terrible teeth
And the stupidest fucking phobias
And whenever I ask them
If they’ll please just let me do them
It becomes some national crisis
I’m a goddamn male
Get over it
Sometimes I wish I could get over me
But life’s like that
It makes you feel like the only sane one
The only one with a working brain one
Is there really a second in six billion
That feels exactly like I do right now
Except possibly female
Doubtful, but then again…
Shit for a head
How can it be any worse when I’m dead
Dick for a head
How can it be any worse when I’m dead
I’ll stop complaining when they stop listening
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