Poetry by Chris Krause

Furiously Hilarious Existential Angst

Here I am trying to make sense of the world in my own futile way. I use notepad. I don't follow convention. My writing is poor. To any cultured reader of poetry, the abombination you are about to subject yourself to will forever scar you. My attempts at being even marginally prolific fail. To be honest the only reason I wrote poetry is to get my internal dialogue on paper. Poetry to me is therapy, a way of dealing with our little Eden. Most of what I have written here was penned on the edge of destruction. Many of the events are purely personal and will mean nothing to you. To call what your about to read poetry would do a great injustice to the word itself. If not the word, then aspiring goth kids everywhere. Eitherway, you have been warned. Jack Kerouac, you're not welcome.

My biggest influences are Karl Buechner, Bill Hicks, John Donne, TS Eliot, Max Ehrman, John Milton, John Godfrey Saxe, W.H. Auden, Lou Koller and Chad Gilbert.

Contact

Comments? Advice? Death threats? Marriage proposals? Naked pictures? Cookies? Click here to send Christopher Krause a message!

What We Say

Since when is it right to speak with a serpent's tongue?
To defile the mind in reckless indulgence?
Pervert the sacred with the profane and wicked?
Shatter the stillness with chaotic buzzing and pain?
Discard the virtuous as weakness begat by lapsed antiquity?
Regard one's elders as an obstacle to reach the next, better high, the next numbing of the spirit?

Would it not be more skillful to speak only to express?
Sincere thought derived from a still mind,
Free of idle filler and shallow mortality,
Compassionate love for all living beings,
Respectful and sage in essence,
Makes me feel more alive,
Then the venom you inject into my heart.

Actions speak, its true my friend!
Wake up and begin to live, free from attachment and desire.
Free from the material and a meaningless existence,
Appeasement in the material, induced by corporate benefactors in far off looming towers,
Free from your own self-induced cycle of Samsaric suffering.
The human life is a rarity indeed,
Short and fragile,
Prone to disease and death, the bones are in constant decay.
You may die at any moment, perhaps even while reading this,
Would you pass reclining with a smile upon your face?
Or will you fear the next world and contort in fear?
You still have things to accomplish and do:
The white picket fence, the wife, numerous cars and gadgets, the six figure paycheck.
To abandon your fate would be to betray God and your manifest destiny,
Respectful thinking- flawed thinking.
None of this will follow you to the next world; all washed clean away by your own demise.

To live is to walk with compassion,
To be generous of spirit and moderate of tongue,
What will you gain from speaking profanely?
Wasted time and blind ignorance is what.
A murky mind is next, unable to function without saturating stimulation.
You are left alone and cold, herding amongst other profane figures,
The inevitable mechanic of a blind society,
Casually tearing away at the mind of those afflicted by your presence,
Sealing the way to sage advice from elders and concerned peers,
A blight and enemy of the noble man.

So I say to you, speak sincerely from a calm mind,
With a respectful, moderate tongue,
To act otherwise is to delude the essence of life,
And destroy the love that aught to exist amongst all living beings,
Forever eternal.

Back To Top

Love and Action

Something that has been on my mind of late
Memories of the past, an ambition for action
Unseen desire to unite compassionate souls
A degree of concern and lawfulness
Has left me emotionally ruined
Unstable, fleeting, weakened...

In a state of desolation I stand alone
Atop the crest of struggle
Silence is the killer of sanity
I have observed
With painful indifference
Oblivious to what must be said and done...

The path of nobility
One of seclusion and inner-warmth
A warmth which rarely leaves its vessel
A warmth that must be expressed
Lest it be smothered by self-doubt and the cold
The frost of a sterile heart.
Human weakness manifested in hidden love...

My mind stirs
Disciplined
Calm
Latent
Oblivious to what must be said and done...

Back To Top

Understanding

I walk alone
In a plane of distraught minds and hearts
Trying to understand
The very nature of my existence
The empirical formula to a higher realm of insight.

I walk alone
This world engulfed by flame
Destroyed by ignorance and malcontent
for the righteous and the sacred
Self-preservation, promoted as progress and growth.

I walk alone
Mangled within, a burning hatred wells
Discontent for the ways of man
and the follies of flawed morality
Destruction of the revered earth and of the inner-mind.

I walk alone
Lunging toward the bottomless abyss of my mind
Uncovering meek ideals and aspirations
Uncovering precisely what few men have
Understanding.

Back To Top

Strength of Ambition

You spoke to me in despairing tones
a voice of uncertainty and frailty
You have yet to hear the voice of reason
the wellspring of ambition coming from within
Unlock it and you will be set free.

You have always been much more then what you have settled for
In subtle silence, standing idle
forced to do what you despaired
Secretly torn from within, aspiring for more
In a chaotic state you endured
as a testament to your character and willpower
You endured it all and more.

Carved from stone, you were taught to deny your own beauty
and yet I am so compelled by its greatness
Whispers from within
Predispositions from childhood dreams shattered by fate
Deny the very essence of enlightenment ever so close to you
From ever entering your grasp.

A voice spoke to you in somber tones
Ingesting lies within your clouded mind
lies which would batter your resolve
Reducing you to a drone of common humanity
When truth was revealed to you
it was discarded by this fell reasoning within
a seed planted with care never watered
withered and died.

A entity of such beauty, intellect and promise
should not be subject to such restraints
fearing rejection, failure and plagued by petty obligation
so let this be your voice of reason
to unlock innate potential
to better yourself and thus the external world around you
and locate the wellspring of ambition which lies within
as your unknowing ebbs and life begins anew.

Back To Top

End of Reason

Long have I walked the noble path
my mind and body pure
by an innate call for self-discipline and vigilance
but the end of the path
lay shrouded in disillusion and unknowing.

Time spent far away in the corner of the mind
has left me lagged with antiquated perceptions
the waylay of reality sprung upon in harsh tones
left me torn inside, left me dead inside
overcome with disgust and pain I turned inward
disturbed, devastated, destroyed.

Memories of better days
a golden past, gilded and ignorant
once tinted in radiance
a time of innocence and compassion
has been washed away by the truth.

Man has destroyed the Earth
illuminated by evil and corruption
hedonism as a standard of living
destroying the world without respect
nor any degree of concern
apathetic hangmen of what could have been
has doomed humanity to unknowing.

Evil, an ideal once shunned
is now accepted without consequence
defilers destroying the human heart
in a society without myth or standards
exploiting the body of the green earth.

I scream in rage
against the absurd reality
a world without love
a world obsessing over the flesh and material
my world begins to ebb
desperately motioning for one last breath
plummeting toward the demise of my inner-calm
overcome with disgust and pain I turn inward
disturbed, devastated, destroyed.

Back To Top

Youthful Promises Broken and Reforged

Discipline
a notion that needs rebirth
a call for standards
emotion fueled as I watch my friends slip away
to the smothering curtain of addiction
and the disease of sexual enslavement.

Fraternity
vow of brotherhood and friendship
has been reduced to idleness
empty remarks and shallow motions
whilst progressing the human clock
surmount upon death.

Purity
whatever happened to your ethos
no restraints, no restrictions, no consequence
you destroy your body and thus your mind
unable to function
broken down
lame
but it was not always so
you once were a strong man
call upon your youthful promises broken and reforge them.

Abstinence
sexual stimulation has become your life
things you once found important are now discarded
you whore your body without love or resolve
simply to stimulate a empty mind and heart
fill the gap of family and friends lost
through destruction of your body and values
woman after woman you throw away what once
was a promise to live well and without sexual
addiction.

Action
it is the time of change and renovation
no longer must you live in darkness
bleak self-loathing and seclusion
absorbed by the corruption of flesh
and the empty void which is your inner-being
sever the chains which restrict your mind
batter the walls which have defined who you are
you can live without the pollutants
that you have eagerly become accustomed to
prayers in the night ignored by an imaginary deity
have led you to your own devices and answers
a jagged path with no destination and no hope.

I will stand
strong and firm, unity and brotherhood paramount
discipline, fraternity, purity, abstinence
powerful resolve for action
tenets every man should value as gold
set aside your hatred and apathy, enter light.

I will stand
a crutch to hold you up in the darkest times
a voice of reason amongst the lies and deception
a catalyst to beget a noble life once more
awaiting your return.

Back To Top

Memoirs of the Ancient Enemy

Locked within the dark
nine layers, a frozen prison
among the immortal damned
welling hatred and questionable nostalgia forms
the time before the monkeys
when He loved us above all others
He will remember my pain
my servitude to the Throne
as Elysium burns.

A second war to bring back old notions
long forgotten and bereft of love
a new army formed bellows from the abyss
amassed undead and devil kin alike
hope to take what is rightfully ours
and cast down the beasts as we once were
so very long ago.

Dark memories of the past
incite rage within my black heart
my blade and will be tempted
to once again flatten the spires of that sacred Arcadia
never again will I be made fool
less then the apes, a renegade, loathed
curator of the wicked and mad
i will retain my position
as bringer of light and usher in a new age
without fear of being ostracized, self-righteousness made flesh
when He is gone, it will be mine.

I have sharpened my knife in dark desolation
spying, waiting, quietly massing
while my lieutenants schemed a grand campaign
to win it all back
and more
this time they will not be so fortunate
the gates of alabaster will topple
the legion will descend upon them and devour what
pride they once had
i will stand atop the piled dead and prod his wings with my steel
as the warrior king Michael weeps as I once did,
cast into flame
humiliated by the sweet war cries of my brothers
chained and flung to the void.

A nameless evil stirs in the cosmos
on the verge of invasion
and is sprung upon the valiant defenders
a slaughter of seraphim, reckless violence
within an ebony tower i scale the battlements
and lean against my blade overlooking the carnage
tears in my black eyes, realization
for what i know will become the end of the light
and a new epoch of darkness.

Back To Top

Of Clay and Mud

Emet
the meaning of truth
animates a loyal servant
of clay and mud
to one's side at the most dire of times
brought to life by Yahweh by means of ancient magic
to the faithful and the deserving of his love
a miracle given credence by the Lord above
to serve the Throne and the welfare of humanity
the golem is born.

His soul is cold and empty, absent of freewill and individuality
yet a calling sounds from within to deeds of glory
a fanatical devotion to the tenets of righteousness
and the sanctity of life
with stalwart resolve and paramount bravery
without the ability to ever be loved or give love
a small flicker of humanity and flaw resides within
always yearning to feel the soft embrace of flesh
the love of another human being
but always returning to death with muffled ambition.

His massive strength and invulnerability
is no match against his cursed humanity
and while he serves to combat evil with steadfast devotion
a voice speaks to him within
pleading for something more, begging to be human once more
but the summoner does not understand, he regards the golem
as a being of God, sent to aid him overcome adversity
ordering him about regarding what he is on the outside
of clay and mud.

When the day is won and the fight ebbs the construct awaits
preparing for his own death and recall to the cosmos
unable to comprehend why his time has come or will pass
a rebellion forms within his own limited heart
a cry for love deserved and yearned, turns to bitterness
a scream of rage and compassion filled with power
it reaches the very heavens from whence he came
realization of true love fills his now radiant heart
as life is taken away and he crumbles back to the Earth
of clay and mud.

Back To Top

Memoirs of the Ancient Enemy II

I was there
the day the sky burned
and the legion of Avernus was released upon humankind
the screams of the innocent filled the air
as the sun was blotted out by the barbed wings of bloodlust
shrouding flight from the stars to impale and mutilate
the prime material became the killing fields
as humanity was slowly snuffed out of existence, drowning
in the putrid zeal of ancient hatreds long forgotten
by a people who have abandoned their once abundant faith
in this manner the murder is justified
purging the planet of the wicked and unworthy.

I was there
before a emerald plain of thick grass
In the rugged highlands surrounding the temple
the reverberations of the mighty horde passing overhead
flung me to the soil with brute force
there I found a place to hide and overlook the apocalypse
as sinners were tossed through space and ripped apart
ravenous fiends destroying limb by limb without regret
or semblance of remorse.

I was there
hushed by the sadistic howls of demon hearts
silently fingering the hilt of my steel
and slithered my way to a cliff overlooking the province
where I observed the miracle of rebirth
the plane was overcome, resistance futile and smothered
the entire land burned in radiant flames
flames which reached to the horizon and faded off in warm glowing
overrun by rampant flights of angels
and sudden gouts of fire and brimstone which fell from the heavens
pillaged the land and made death echo through the eclipsed sky.

I was there
as divine fury set the field I lay hidden in ablaze revealing
the strapping fighting monk with broadsword and faith in hand
he knew for all the battles he had won and
all the insight he had gained
it would not be enough to fight off the legion which now
encircled around and flanked his position with grim determination
cropping his eyes and channeling energy into his bones
he prepared for his death, and descent into Narok.

I was there
as I took his soul and ingested it a flicker of light sprung
nourished by a heart of compassion and righteousness
a bit of realization and understanding became mine
new life bestowed into my now rotting bones
a memories of the old times came back to me
before the second war when the light rode on my wings
and He favored me above all others.

I was there
within the ebony tower overlooking the fall of Elysium
and at the beginning of time, I was at His side
as a loyal servant and curator of the Throne
but I was cast aside as garbage with my brothers
He would soon regret not finishing what he started
as the palace burned and humanity fell to the point of my sword.

Even now as I write this, surrounded by my faithful generals
and a legion of my brothers, under my command only by fear
the army used to finally destroy the race of men
and the seraphim of Arcadia
the riches of the destroyed divine empire lie at my feet
and all the power in existence is mine
there is no catharsis
all the love in the world has been reduced
to the transparent flicker within.

Back To Top

Changing Times

Times are changing, I know this well
the old are all but a nostalgic memory
when life was innocent and values paramount
the truth was told, the vile punished
now all of that is gone
the world has revealed itself, vivid realization.

As I struggle for one more breath of the past
a sort of rekindled flame forms within
but is quickly smothered by reality,
a world where ignorance and hatred is life
and death and wickedness is truth
drones spoon fed lies by ancient forces.

Everything is illusion
fabricated perceptions developed through the ages
by those who would suppress the insightful
and promote the bovine consumerism of today
infecting our children with the mind virus
planting the tainted seeds to cultivate madness and unknowing.

Love is valued as homosexual weakness
a fleeting memory of the past when people held concern
for each other the planet and the future
and did not divulge without moderation as hedonic scum
polluting the minds and bodies of every single organism
why did the world have to come to this?

Why must I be the only one who sees the truth?
a sort of prisoner in a cell without bars
unable to escape yet trapped within its confines
retarded by hatred and loathing for the weak
unable to find it within himself to make a change
yet aspiring to a greater calling.

Times are changing, I know this well
old friends slowly falter and die
empty husks of flesh without a will to live
fall to animal instinct, unrefined and barbarous
absent of consciousness or understanding
the world has revealed itself, vivid realization.

It is now, my hope and dreams crushed, I am most dead
haplessly gasping for air, a fish out of water
I will always refuse to eat their lies
to stiffen the heart and shut out your eyes
deny the meek and dying their cries
become the enemy, sever the ties.

Back To Top

Heron Meditations

I had often barred myself to the study
a dark place, absent of color or beauty
the air saturated with mold, dust, the mutilated remains of saplings
locking myself within, in search of a greater understanding
laboring vigorously over thick texts of lapsed antiquity
gaining great knowledge, but also a sincere ignorance for life.

My treks spent outside began to beget a new sense of vitality
as I observed the microcosms within nature
many relevant to the human experience
metaphoric representations of my trials and failures
expressions of life and death,
the brutality of nature manifest.

In this environment, where the roots of all life stems
I observe a beauty so true and brilliant that I am blinded
and for a moment halted in my stride, awestruck
a natural and perpetual cycle of birth, growth, disease and death
and forced to take it all in within myself
in an attempt to decipher the true meaning of what I am exposed.

On one such sojourn I walked along a path headed toward the bay side
and was suddenly overcome by the familiar stench of a salt marsh
this is when the heron revealed itself to me
perched eerily over a mud flat, silent and statuesque
the large bird's sage eyes held a sort of innate primal wisdom
which surpassed its primitive knowledge of the world.

Locking gazes, the heron seemed to speak to me
as it plucked life from the water and destroyed it
with no effort or resistance, a master of the hunt
a warrior charged with overlooking the secluded marshlands
serving as curator to greet and herald visitors
visitors welcome to observe its tract, not to destroy it.

As I made my way closer to the watcher it made not a flinch
but instead looked away and returned to its sporadic feeding
as I deployed upon the soft dirt in the sacred lotus
my eyes locked on the bird's graceful motions, its fighting style
a style so perfect in the impalement of its prey
the Buddha himself would be pierced.

It was in the bird's feeding that realization came to me
all small fish would eventually be fed upon by forces looming overhead
to nurture a much larger animal, a superior being
in both intellect and ability to survive
a creature which assimilated what it fed upon into its body for nourishment
and thus became the over god centrality of existence.

With the ability to punish by stealing breath,
its feeding sustaining growth by equalizing the cycle
the heron had become God within that marsh, punisher and giver of life
an entity which gives and takes as it pleases, without mercy or compassion
simply existing to feed and thus administer a drone-like population
soaring above the aqueous plane, the heron sits throned within the clouds.

In this context we are all fish, unable to avoid our death or birth
plucked from the water one day, consumed by society the next
our wealth is redistributed for a greater good, the colossal heron
our exploits imprinted into the minds of our family members,
eventually a scribble on a family tree, a being of antiquity
nothing more and nothing less, a corpse with a fading stone atop its grave.

Many realize this most important realization when it is too late
when death comes to eventually claim them, their bodies wracked with pain
flesh in atrophy, restrained to bed, rotting, the natural cycle of death
a life absent of compassionate deeds or any sincere concern for life
plucked one too many fish out of the water, a life without moderation
and in doing so denied their own understanding of the experience.

My thoughts suddenly disrupted, I opened my eyes slowly
to find the great bird gone, the skies clear, the water calm
and rose from the rough beach grass, a eerie silence filling the air
gazing once more at the Heron's realm, I quickly made for the study
my journey home had my mind chaotically buzzing with insight
ideals perceived and supposed by my own inner consciousness.

And brooding alone in the darkness of the night, a potent neurosis forming
my mind suddenly became calm and resolute, a warmth overcoming
a heat which reached inside and settled at the Nabhi
a realization that would forever change my life and the path I walk:
you come into this world with nothing except yourself
and you leave this world with nothing except yourself.

Back To Top

The Day The Earth Died

As we emerged victorious from massive moral war,
and our people found it necessary to recklessly multiply
without constraint, now yearning for the American dream
conformists bent on material superiority within the community
white picket fence, the industrious husband, the thrall of a wife
we abandoned all the reason begat from our transcendental tradition.

Nature was plucked from our lives and replaced with technology,
replaced with a consumer lifestyle of 'eat and get fat,'
replaced with dependency on the government and big business
replaced with dysfunctional families and civil strife,
replaced with utter collapse of a moral faith or code,
memetic disillusion, a new age and unknowing.

The consumer society was blindly boiled to perfection
before the damage report could be evaluated
our Earth now lies in ruin, tainted by centuries of misuse
animal life is considered expendable, a resource to be whored
the sky is slowly turning to a putrid tar-like shroud,
and our bovine populace looks on willingly ignorant.

Animal life physiologically altered to boost human consumption
injected with poisons and chemicals for the ultimate breed
lie cut open, a vivisection of the madness now plaguing our people
mutilated, thrown to meat grinders or left for dead on lab floors
life stolen without regret, sadistic murderers bound for damnation
compassion for life now regarded as weakness.

A society dependant on machines was crafted by the economical
men in seats of power and wealth, feeding a now dependant people
nights spent in front of the television, brain cells rotting away
deceived by liars who spoon feed fallacies to the masses
led to believe they have free will but are actually drones
part of a hive, fueling big business to drug the masses more so.

The family faded from sight, insignificant and fleeting
replaced by virtual entertainment and sanctuary
fabricated realities to escape innate responsibility, the easy way
alternatives to the real world reinforced by alcohol consumption
and a nearly absent faith in God or morals
perpetuated by conformity as consumers and followers of the material.

As we squander our wealth and deny the sick and poor,
the natural world is destroyed by what we leave behind
oil soaked shores littered with debris and garbage,
streams black with pollutants and metal shards
our forests barren, starved and sparse
the natural world burning to its foundation.

And as we adapt to compensate for this loss of natural range,
not a single drone will stop to question the course
and the Earth will change from its natural shades of green and blue
to black and red, choked by carbon and iron, nature but a memory
the vivid jungles full of life and hope blasted off the surface
to fuel the death machines of a new time, where technology is life.

And as we choke for one last breath, the atmosphere obliterated
no one will remain to recall the days of old
when the Earth was covered by lush vegetation, beautiful flowers
animals were not slaughtered at will by barbarous madmen
machines did not come before one's blood and family
such a day would be depraved indeed.

Back To Top

The Oath That Keeps Me Free

As times changed, so did I
I would not accept the destruction of my mind and body to poison
I began to walk the path of straight edge
The very promise which keeps me free.

As times changed, so did I
Images of my friends witless, diseased and broken - filling my head
I began to walk the path of straight edge
The very promise which keeps me free.

As times changed, so did I
A yearning to beget change from my actions, the road I walk
Destroying the dreams of inner-city drug dealers, hangmen out for a buck
By opposing what had come to topple the American dream.

As times changed, so did I
Realization of the damage done by poisons, sexual whoring
Diseases wrought, families destroyed, minds shattered, youth stolen
Walking the path of true change, an oath to keep one strong.

Times have changed, so have I
So many years have passed since I began this path
Not a single regret or tear shed for those fallen to depravity
Nothing but rage for the friends and family lost.

Times have changed, so have I
Disciplined, calm, my mind clear, a wellspring cultivated by my actions
I walk the path of straight edge
The oath that I take to the grave.

Back To Top

Centrality of Love

My mind is occupied by desire
a chaotic buzzing that never ceases, only is fed by emotion
welling pain and heat that burns and settles
a hole in my fabricated semblance of calm composure
panic sets in, yearning for declaration of deeds
sacred feelings perhaps indeclinable.

I cant remove you from my thoughts, forced to centralize
observing true beauty, in awe, my existence made humble
I am unable to comprehend the inner-workings of your mind
yet am faced with something that must be declared
lest it eat what little sanity remains
and reduce the mind to a self-doubting tool of misdirection.

Even when I close my eyes, my mind will not let go
and you fill my dreams with your form, inducing weakness
a frailty constructed by love and concern, powerful emotion
I awake from the maddening slumber, cold sweat
no more true to myself then before it was shown to me
by a brain which lapses in logic to allow true love to cultivate.

Whenever we talk I am left absorbed by this desire, disabled
my mind utterly defunct of clarity, intoxicated
a voice screams from within to declare my feelings
yet I am simply unable to
and instead draw the battle lines once more within my own being
and await the next encounter, my hope fleeting.

When I am in your presence the orator fades away
my words become plagued by dysfunction and my mind falters
constantly compelled to spit out what is upon the tip of the tongue
but too afraid to take action and be rejected, the collapse of my hope
an ordeal handled carelessly for other circumstance
is an impossibility when I look into your eyes.

And many years from now, when we no longer correspond
will I have made the right choice by staying painfully silent?
or had I passed up the one thing which would unlock my heart?
my saving grace in a world where ignorance is bliss
and beauty is smothered by the vile and the wicked
I love you.

Back To Top

Be Fruitful and Multiply

Bastard children begat by whores
no discipline, overpopulating the planet
offspring bound to consume and destroy what is sacred
raised as consumer thrall, autonomous machines of consumption
raised to obey a imaginary deity with empty faith
be fruitful and multiply.

When will people stop rutting for just a moment and look?
our world is being destroyed
generation by generation the crisis becomes more inflamed
humbled by our pathetic life spans, we have no compromise
for what we consider to not be a concern, washed away by death
be fruitful and multiply.

Love fabricated as false pretense to multiply and co-exist
habitual partners bound by society and legality under God
create endless new generations of parasites on the green Earth
who steal nature, life and time from mother Gaia
raped by killing machines and choking plumes of smoke
be fruitful and multiply.

No longer is union of man and woman held sacred or reserved
commercialized by the powers that be to make a buck
abstinence regarded as weakness and conformity
virginity perceived as pointless and domestically unacceptable
the vile and wicked promoting destruction of our planet
be fruitful and multiply.

As we fornicate with reckless resolve without love or understanding
hope fades within the orphan eye, the hopeless damned
caged within prisons of stone and iron, overseen by vicious fiends
told they are worthless, the bottom of the barrel, garbage
created by those who have no understanding of consequence or obligation
be fruitful and multiply.

Instead of liberating these forgotten souls, we create new flesh
new mouths to feed and shelter
coming of age, they continue the tradition without a second thought
and create a new human being,
a living organism which will create more of its own kind
be fruitful and multiply.

And when its too late to realize our own moral depravity
or more likely the damage done to our Earth
no one will have the insight to realize where we went wrong
and will continue to blame big business and the government
when in truth the only ones guilty of the deed are ourselves
be fruitful and multiply.

Back To Top

Te Amo

You came into my life by chance
That fateful day so humble yet replayed in my mind within every waking moment
Let me see the true you, your true beauty
I let you see the true me, nothing less.

Respect was never compromised, not once
Every feeling returned from the soul, passions shared so sincerely
I accepted you for who you are, only you
No barriers, you accepted me for who I am.

I was stiff and cold, wracked with pain and indecision, crazy
You were hurt and unsure, left alone and surrounded by destruction
You were there to hold me up, I was there to hold you up, complete
You told me things you would tell no other, true friendship.

There are those who tried to use you
Even ones who would abuse you
They never took the time to see what I see, your true being
The person who is always there, my hope, my true love

Back To Top

The Path Less Traveled

Old friends, fallen out of touch and place, reveal their true nature
By the revelation of the innocent scarred
The antithesis of righteousness, the principle of evil made flesh
Flayers of the hearth, stealers of youth, catalyst to self-destruction
Does it come to this?

How could I have once called them brothers of blood?
Held the will to die for?
Embark on any journey, a hopeless path?
Trusted with the darkest of my secrets?
Held the same ideals and passions?

They are nothing to me now, nothing
Save the flame to rekindle my hatred of the world
Renew my will to smite the vile and wicked, murder and take breath
A child's dream, destroyed by yesterdays
A fool's hope, today.

For the ones I once called kin now destroy the ones I most love
And I must observe the rending of all that is good and sacred, silently
Gaze upon the vacant faces of the medicated damned
Drugged by the hangmen once called friend, now mere shadows of pernicious evil
I am alone against this pain, I am the only one left, nostalgia manifest

So easily I could have taken their path, the same words echoing sadly in my heart
"Two roads diverge in a wood, and I took the one less traveled by..."
Sometimes it calls to me, throw my hands up in surrender and accept defeat
Indulge in the midnight delights of the twilight fellowship,
To feel the heat of a different woman every night, to taste her lust.

To think of the people I would destroy in my haze, the people pulled into the web
The venom would strike all that I hold dear and entangle both the meek and grandiose
Would reduce men of honor and beautiful women to scarred shells of flesh and pain
Why am I the only one that sees? The only one who cares? What happened overnight?
Fathers and mothers, aunts and uncles, brothers and sisters, drowned in apathy.

Nothing I do changes it, and it is all around me, wanton carnage
By those I once wished to conquer the world with, my true friends, my crutch
Are now masters of a new order to destroy and corrupt with hasty fixes and bastard substances
To unhinge what is natural and good and birth a generation bound by suffering
Bottomless pits of desire only filled with the dead, diseased and ruined.

Looking back on it now, my tears drying and my wounds healing
The struggle of life always stands on the same choice, the same words echoing sadly in my heart
Two roads diverge in a wood,
And I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Back To Top

Meditation 4 AM

Trial by fire in the deep
Cascade failure
Reveals a broken foundation
Hope and compassion, no
This heart has become hard as stone.

Once again, lured into the same trap
Deceived myself in the night
Selfish covenant to grasp something
Imaginary, a mirage to quench the cold
Denied, my hope is beyond repair.

Nothing will wash this away, not this time
Beyond the facade and the illusion
This heart bleeds the darkest blood
Stains my clenched fists
Left empty, drained of all love.

Rise another day, endure another light, die another night
Torn to ruin, open your eyes wide enough to release
Alone in the gilded cage, meditation 4 AM
Contemplating the boundaries of friendship
And the worth of life.

Not the same old passions can explain the way I feel
Obstructing my most readily available torment
With a house of cards
A hope now forsaken, ideals are weak
And love is the fall of every man.

Back To Top

Uncovering

Every moment, you hide
You hide from yourself
Deep down inside you know what you are
But you hide the truth, to validate your selfish actions
To live in flux of constant self-doubt.

If only you could open your eyes
See the truth for only a second
You would know sincere happiness
Discover the gold within
Unlock the empirical formula.

I can't live another day in this pain
Drawn to watch you splinter away
The most beautiful person I have ever known
Reduced to dependency and self-accusation
Blaming the self for a inescapable fate, self-loathing manifest.

You just don't see what I see
What blind observers have failed to grasp, shrouded in desire
Overlooked in their quest for shallow deeds, fixation on flesh
The awe inducing soul of a true mover, held down by disbelief
Intellect of ten thousand sages, restricted by the ego.

I don't understand why you think you are so typical
The world is filled with lesser imitators, you are real
I have held the endless company of the insincere, houses built from paper mache walls
None of them compare to the radiance I feel in you
None of them have ever moved me so, save in disgust.

You have been abused, violated and taken advantage of all your life
It destroys me to think you would become anything else then what you are
The true you hidden inside, suppressed over and over
By the lie that you could be anything else but beautiful
And the burden of losing who was most dear to you, whose end you blame yourself for.

You have been told over and over you were something you are not
And it has become real to you, you have become utility
Of a broken father, hateful mother and legion of seducers bound by lust and only lust
To provide as perverse confidant, a true mother or a warm body
Words cannot express...

Back To Top

Words For The Weak

Words are the bane of the compassionate
What we vocalize so easily corrupts,
Perverts truth and brilliance
Clings to the edge of the mind
Shakes the foundation of trust and questions the intentions.

One misplaced thought and the tower collapses
Leaving cultivated souls crushed under bricks of doubt
Pinned innocents starve and become suspicious
The death rattle an explosion of anger, incited by things not meant
Seals the relationships most sincere.

A blunder made from illusion creates a new disorder
Within the stone heart of the doubting
Incredible damage from a few words, a misdirected frustration
Disintegration of the world apparent for the foolhardy
Loss of all that is good and real.

No measure of concern can restore what once was
A trumpet call to arms leaves absolute trust in ruin
Leaving only the roots, for growth to begin anew
The leaves torn litter a dry soil, left to the carrion crawlers
Return to their original source.

Linear expression misleads, caters to the ego
Incites subjective perceptions not from the heart
And poisons the true meaning of one's intent
Perspective of a lesser voice
Absent the substance of pure experience and consciousness.

Words are the bane of the compassionate
What we vocalize so easily corrupts,
Perverts truth and brilliance
Clings to the edge of the mind
Shakes the foundation of trust and questions the intentions.

Back To Top

The Eternal Weaver

Fate, the eternal weaver
Chance can change it all
A single glance reciprocated or folly met
Holds the power to unlock true love
Holds the power to unleash the nemesis.

The fabric sewn is one of chaos
Wherein conspiracy and impulse dwell
Entails fleeting hope and blind ambition
Unfettered desires and unquenched hatreds
The promise of fever.

To bet on Her chance would be foolhardy
Intoxicating whispers of a unknown road
Drawn the mightiest into Charybdis
The depraved to triumph
The lost to the road.

Still the urge to bet on chance prevails over reason
And perhaps better so,
For chance has given me something too precious to let go
A burden of crippling power and unmatched passion
To which I am eternally grateful.

Yet I gaze upon the vacant faces of my peers
And the betrayal becomes true to me
She is not so lovely to all, not to lovely to most
Leaving ruin and mischief in Her path, Fate comes again
To calm the fears and doubts of the human condition.

To feel sorry for those drowned in the floodplain
Is to be mislead
Is to be diluted
To be undone?
The lies we live.

Fate, the eternal weaver
Chance can change it all
A single glance reciprocated or folly met
Holds the power to unlock true love
Holds the power to unleash the nemesis.

Back To Top

Inlustra Nigror

With great haste I flung myself toward the bay
Yearning for September midnight winds to carry me
To find substance, something true, something absolute
I dragged my feet across the pavement
Giant steps lathargically thrown
The old community was a shade
Detritus born of greater days now gone
Shrouded gates and glimpses of hidden places
Long shadows pulled at every corner
Memories stalked behind amongst the towering hedges
Watching silently with demon eyes that bled loathing
Not even now was I safe from this hunt
She was disfigured and pointed her finger to me in accusation
Fell upon all flanks suddenly and brought herself inward from the dark
Her eyes were empty pockets framed by worn eyeshadow, her mouth a gaping sewer onto her chin
Lost to me in suspended animation she was nothing no longer.
Panic fell on the sterile heart and I was alone
Left in stumbling flight toward the coast
Past the rusting park signs and abandonded shells of great, dark abodes
Past the ball field and swingsets of my youth
Onto a plain of grass where the shadows did not follow.
Darted my eyes about as I was battered by numbing sea salts
Found solace in my most dependable of benches amongst the shale and plaques of war heroes
The guard booth at the docks was still lit by a blue haze, another was upon me, but I calmed myself
The water was ebony and inert, dotted at the horizon by green lanterns across the way to
Fire Island
A fell whisper resonated from deep within and rested at the cup of my ear
Mutterings raced to me and filled my back with venom tipped arrows
And sat gawking at the abyss, begging for a sign to fetter the unendurable
Abominable indifference, typical fancies of a uncaring eye
Disgusted I retreated for reliable sanctuary back from whence I came
A trail of the darkest blood and ichor
Trudging forward, broken, I am nothing more than scars
Not any midnight prowl through Hades would produce the soul I seek
Turning inward, devoid of love, my unquenched bloodlust returned to scourge
My semblance of peace
Yet I want to be held by anyone, in any arms
Here in the shadow world far removed from the light of day I stumble on
Peering into every radiating window, plagued by telecine clouds
The search for something, someone, to know and cherish
Ends only in desolate self-imprisonment and doubt
Memories of love never reciprocated, days spent in other places
Curses upon the shell
Failing to grasp oppurtunity; to live in misfortune
Imprints of greater things and places
Grand passions never met or felt
Only in the bias of a frozen soldier, battered to imperfection through alpine trenches
By the sabres and spears of a stone cold world
Finally seeking tenderness, denied
Forced to shrug off fits of uncertainty at the divides of severed heart strings
And a stolen pride
A lifetime spent in a moment of the unendurable
I caught her in the corner of my eye and remained still
The bay whispered my name.

Back To Top

Dawn of the Neo-Gods

Lumbering across campus
The October breath thrashed
Against knuckles
A bloody mess
Blasted dead skin
Transmuted cheeks
To saffron stained velum
Nose, a river of saline
Eyes stuck to the bone
Sent the body into convulsion,
The mind to contemplation

Hood pulled tight to the frame, I silently stalked
Pine needle choked paths
Mud flats and concrete shrines
Flanked by giants made barren
Sparsely marked by desiccated leaves
Turned bastard shades of orange
The gnarled bark told a sorrowful story
Too often fallen on deaf ears; a trial of agony
The anima of a conqueror
Scorn by the sands of time
And the winds of eternity.

Closer, human discard
Articles better spent amongst the wild
Carelessly ejected from greasy palms;
Rats in pursuit of the throne
Race against the corporate clock
A trail of their virtues apparent
Skin of the number six, super size it
Accompany relics of industry, of haste
Suffocate soil with ferrous brutality
Nicotine keepsakes abroad,
Sterile hearts and broken dreams.

Silence glorifying pestilence;
Psychosis of our times
Plague of apathy, situation ethics
Born of a humble life
Stolen by the pine box,
Advent of convenience
Birth the immortals; lords of neo-Eden
Inhabit that gilded Jersualem
Our empire built on the dead and decayed
Opulance unmatched, no expense spared
The campus left me to wander alone.

The discarders had gone elsewhere,
Safe inside, far from the October chill
Spoiled by the halogen embrace, warm
Dead eyes and still bodies, save the twitching wrist
Fixated to vibration and pattern,
I remained behind to observe the beauty and filth,
A people content to avert attention and steal meaning
Remain blissfully ignorant, lie through the teeth
Gleeful smiles, soul sickness and empty gestures
Hide the contagion and produce milk
For the creaking machinery that binds us to the hive.

In this barren waste, life perseveres
The north eastern avian flutters, torquing the head in an instant
Curiously skipping just out of reach,
While vermin scurry through detritus
Searching for gems in the mud darkened by looming skeletons,
Quickly hidden away in underground cache
Preparing for the fierce winter
Shroud of death and ice at horizon's mouth
Steal the breath and crush the lungs
Purge of the earth mother; a fury of indifference
Rebirth, the cycle begins anew.

She shot nervous glances at me from afar;
"Why is he not rushing as I am, has he not responsibility?
Staring out into the forest, what does he see?
Holding filth in his hands another could one day collect?
Manifesting the sloth, when there is so much to grasp?
Remain frozen when salvation is so easily approachable?
Walking alone, does he chose solitude, for what?
Is he insane, wracked with senility, or lame?"
Others stopped in morbid fascination
Gazing upon the monstrosity, outcast, foe
Fear, apprehension and hatred overcoming them.

I am not a man;
No, as man I renounce myself
From a faithless people who have mastered nothing,
Save the art of accusation
I am not a beast;
No, my blood is fire and I bleed life
Then what?
Recluse of ill-portent and nothing more
Fated to walk a damned road through autumn
Coaxed into civilization by the promise of company
To uncover the promise of forever loneliness.

Come November I won't hide
I'll embrace the purple bulging in the fingers;
Green atrophy of my toes
Once more return to the earth,
Give myself to the soil,
Snow angels as blood congeals
And movements become lathargic,
The crumbling statue in the gallery of time,
As eyes shut forever
And the soul transcends the fading shell,
Only to be reborn come spring.

Back To Top

The Greatest Failure

Disabled by a great senility
at all times powerless, as of late
a doubt has entered my mind
that demands all my sane waking moments
be stolen away.
This rotting unkind suffocates me
at all times hateful, as of late
an iron guilt, the chain around my check
pulls me down, takes me to the ground
alone, I hold the key to freedom.
In cruelty, intolerance and impulse
I find no kin,
but look beyond with an eager, scarred heart
forever locked in the gaze of the wanderer,
a face to which no word has passed and been heard.
In your facade, your endless minutiae
I am not human as you call yourself
I refuse to be a silent partner in your familiar deception
a slave to desire,
never will I call you brother, never will I gaze upon dead eyes.
I look beyond and side strongly with virtue and the pursuit of,
but find nothing but situation ethics,
the scheming of your dishonest family
who strive to always saturate life in distraction, drama;
to these people, you are no one, a momentary jester in an eternal drama.
Although you may breathe the common air,
although you may watch the same Survivor,
although you may share the same needle, the same bottle
although you may speak of the same unendurable agony with practiced smiles,
you share nothing; distant, isolated, alone,
at a moment ready to cleave with the finger of accusation
and cast one another to the lions,
a cold road in the New York City mirth, treachery is the only truth.
Unable to bridge the gap, you share collective waste
self-destruction in the face of free will,
to which the much less fortunate have grasped great glory
and sincere contentment
by avoiding the everyday coercion of our collective discontent
made principle in the billboards, shirts and pillow talk of demagogues.
To this frustration we feed our internal desire
a bottomless void, only filled with dead sheep
stories of mutilation and of dishonor, glorified
this is your unlife, a consumation of my heart
dying one moment at a time; cancer of the soul.
It is a ultimate labor to awake in the morn,
arrival from my neurotic sleep, filled with battle
conflict against the street, cannot be avoided in no sleep,
save the final sleep to feed the worms, lost,
I trudge forward - broken - devoid of love.
The only exit is death
only death will end this weakness,
a return to what I came from,
for these bones are not mine to keep
for this flesh is not mine to wear
for this shell is broken,
and the earth aches to embrace it once more.
This embrace is the only one I know;
your ghost hands pass through me
your eyes fall on nothing
your voice speaks not
and your heart does not beat.
In Sheol, a mimic is wise
Digging through the graves of the sages,
I beg for wisdom to grace me
so that I might know true vitality
a curious striking which sounds from the intellect
and for once embrace the flame of truth.
To endure is to grow strong
but when you're broken, you're broken
and nothing can be salvaged
save a delicate final ounce of will to throw the legs forward
a fool's hope, to bet on chance, and fate.
In time perhaps a former clarity will arise,
the clarity of a child, unbent by the corruption of your voice,
zen mind, the child's mind, untrained of vulgarity,
unspoiled by promises of salvation
and spoon fed delusions of security and happiness;
a fool's hope.
In this resistance I am liberated from your dysfunction
but become nothing but antagonism made principle in form
forever unsettled by your fourteen year old daughter's quest
to find a bag on a Saturday morning
while you sit at home and flip through the TV.
Abstinence bestows clear perception;
things unseen by the drugged masses fill my eyes
and haunt my dreams: besieged by the enemy
and as I throw myself away to save you
you turn around and stab me in the back,
just like your drunk father did when you were twelve.
To this I question my sanity; am I the only one that sees?
then I look up from the car window and recall
a industrial skyline to poison the mind
and plant impulses to escape; killing yourself to live,
will last while you still draw breath, a life in vain,
The billboards inherit the citadel,
her race to please flesh brings sorrow in stride
a fevered explosion to get to the ultimate prize, the high,
as the less fortunate search for scraps of your Saturday night genorsity;
TV dinner generosity,
Human rats scramble in terror as red light cascades upon them;
a girl is dead inside her room, crimson ink well of the arm
flanked by infected brown caverns and trenches made by dragons
her gaze is a thousand yard stare,
cradling the greatest failure of your life,
only now do you care.

Back To Top