Tag Archives: death


Credit: photobank.kiev.ua

Credit: photobank.kiev.ua

we are all robots with our industrial legs and arms

emitting static data through chained sprocket mouths

chewing down on metal teeth while spitting out sparks;

tasteless words to condition into subjection

the accomplishment of production as day’s profit

obtaining satisfaction in facilitating the genocidal submission

with one’s own expiration date stamped axiomatically;

one by one we live, work, and die

I am grateful for the heavy hearts ❤

insert title III


Memories and Reflections


Standing on the hill with a random breeze catching on
His strawberry hair ruffled and soft to the touch;
Succumbing to the force within the currents of the wind

The sun and the moon endure their usual aversion of each other
As they sit on their thrones to enjoy the splendor below;
Loving the thoughtless creatures of mortal limitations

Of this one in particular pretending magnificence

(As a peaceful representation of living in perfect harmony
and fighting the fear of indifference
while promoting beauty in the uncertainty,
or at least the everyday moments that the
World can be too busy to notice)

As the ordinary miracles catches his attention;
A man of notice and the gifts of perception

Breathing in the reality tasted by the events determined
From the recordings of the subjects in question;
Their memories and reflections of them

She’s Not Me

I heard all of the rumors and

The messages that she sent

I thought maybe I was her but

She showed me that we’re different

Her wounds bound her together and

Although they seemed similar

I knew that I was only myself, that

She was not me but someone else

Another drifter saying the same things

Thinking the same thoughts day to day

Except she claims to see more

As if she knows the future

Or maybe bits and pieces of our

Memories shaped together


I’ve got the fire burning in my belly

My heart is pumping strong

There’s a few words I’ve been thinking

That lay balanced on my tongue

I thought you were my brother

I called you my best friend

But at the first chance you got

You shoved a dagger into my back
Supposed Friends


Calling all supposed friends!

Oh where Oh where have y’all been?

I’ve found myself among the wolves

Their howls keep calling me home under the moon

Have I died and been gifted a life reborn?

I woke up soaking wet and standing alone

Dripping droplets of their bitter scorn

Leaving puddles of poison on the floor

The grass is always greener in this war

Battles of greed to keep us wanting more

You can claim all of the fields of clover

A fake reign won’t live on forever

I am grateful for lost thoughts ❤

Room #13



I vanished from this plane of reality and
found myself lost and delirious
Shutting eyes, to block out the distorted shapes with their blindingly confusing colors and patterns
My head slowly tilting to the left, either from the lack of strength or from trying to keep up with line of sight
My temples pounding, disconnecting from the rigidity of skin
Stretching out wide in fleshy cones of self, as far out as both arms’ reach
Before turning inward and sucking into touch together through brain

Spinning, spiinnning, noises, voices, worried feelings; paralyzed with only one concern or thought
Spinning, spiinnning, movement, shouting, anxious feelings; paralyzed with only one concern or thought

I’m unsure of how many minutes were passed during my mental chant
My face pressed into the carpet, body heavy; cannot move, don’t dare to think, try to breathe, Breathe! Breathe!

My last abled act of motion, using thumb to pry mouth open;
hoping that the wider inhalation of air would suffocate the demons
facing me as I lay dying
“Please, I want to live”

My heartfelt plea meant to be shouted but only resulting in the salty tears mixing in with my body’s sweat

Even through the sickness of mind and of body, I realized my formal introduction to the Angel of Death
It was now or, it would just be at some other point in time, later
Death was curious as to who I was, who I am
He came into me and stole every hidden treasure and stone, even those buried beneath the memories I don’t try as hard to forget and also the ones that I haven’t even witnessed yet
I willed myself to move, to raise up, to escape, to do anything but
My body didn’t exist, the battle of my life raged within my head
Death demanding the best of myself at my most weakest state of mind;
My thoughts twisting into mixed up words and phrases, not making sense; my body’s determination for survival, shutting down all general processing abilities
And any hope to persuade Death

Death’s first impression must have convinced of his want for another crossed-out name;
the ambulance told to pull over
Death claiming
My heart stopping
Body shutting down
Death calculating
Fever dreams enveloped my time of awareness
Carnival scenes with raging blue sirens singing out the whirling voices of songs that I’ve sung on my own

Ambulance moving, consciousness blurred between fairytales and reality
The blood pumping, flowing
Death loosening his grips
My ever stubborn heart refusing to quit
I found myself lost within a World of shadows and hooded figures dressed in black
There was no pain except the unanswered questions of impatient confusions, floating within the Universe;
a space of quiet bliss with Death as my companion and my only friend

Motion, lights, pain, color, Pain!
stomach churning from my overconfident eyes that are crossing from the force of attempting to keep them open
Suffocating smells, cloth robe
White stickers attaching me to
the wires wrapped through my hair, under my back, around my legs, clipped to my fingers, shoved into my nose, taped to my chest, stuck into my arms

The beep Beep beep Beep beep Beep
waking me up in Hospital Room #13

I am grateful for battles won (September 15, 2014) ❤

Ghost Horses


photo (10)


You think you have us all?

Your hardened eyes of intimidation

Gazing out past your mind’s view being

directed by the tip of your nose

Egotistical, sprouting seeds of hate

that wilt in sickness in between every

sidewalk crack and old pavement road

of the crumbling cities

Spreading across the earth with the poisonous vapors

catching on the wind of all of the mouths;

breathing out silent screams of hatred, lust, and painful sorrows

Perfect white teeth, once braced, now

shielding the sharpest blade this place has ever heard

Twisting, rolling, folding, until truth is created

We ride tonight

We ride tonight

(Two times for the dramatic effect as it clicks in your head, remembering similarities)

Do you ever feel afraid at the repetition of intensity?

Snapping you out of your purchased complacency

brought to you, kindly, from advertised drugs

We’ve always said that our Ghost Horses

were better for riding through the clouds

I bet you look over your shoulder and

wonder that very thought

Do you see me coming for you yet?

Everyone loves to live and forget

Perhaps you’ve misplaced the lines that trace my face

As it’s gone absent and has been replaced with the

disillusioned and treasured pictures that you see now

Moving on to the next distraction of popularity

Changing looks, bodies, and thoughts

Each day passes brings us one day closer to reality

(I am he as you are she as you are me and we are all together)

What is the ultimate plan again?

I’ve repressed the madness building up

within your contemptment

General Cronie I am at your command!

I’ll drink the poison sold at

your 7 Day Store

I’ll gulp it down as you howl

“As You Were!”

Swallow Swallow Swallow

Three sips and I’m still thirsty

Come on, come On

I’ll cheers on the last drop;

we’re all a little bit crazy, right?


I am grateful for 25 cent fortunes ❤



We were talking

as we always tend to find ourselves

Midconversation, without even realizing

we’ve said anything

Words of explanations to escape the pain of

dealing with it all firsthand

A discharge of the unhappy breath of

a man known as nothing, and me observing;

what is it we claim to believe, really again?

He looked at me with an intensity

that only he could seem to produce

The words spewing from his lips in

a disgusted contempt

A snarl changing the shape

of his face;

as he thought about what he was saying


I said

The only word I was brave enough

to interject his vent

To disrupt his train of thought and offer an

attempt to break through the brick wall

of his layers of strength and of sickness

Overlapping and intertwining

intermixing with the drugs he’s been buying

In result, the mind turning on, off, on, off

A familiar repetition to anyone who’s ever been

afraid to feel

I saw it then, the look in his eyes

The flicker of fire

Somehow he’s managed to

still have a shadow of smoke

burning inside

I couldn’t breathe

As if he needed my breath then

sucked it into himself

to fill himself up with the thoughts

running around in my head

and the feelings that I’ve felt

A quick gaze into my soul to

continue his practices of exploration

Never thinking that he could

open himself up to me

As he stood there vulnerable to comfort

facing in my direction

As if we somehow forgot the threaded string

roping us together

Chest to Chest

There was never a mirror, nor a piece of glass

There are no fairy-tales nor explosive tragic endings


There are only the imprinting golden lights of

memories shining in our dreams

Who cares what to believe anymore


I am grateful for live music and talented musicians ❤



How long is an acceptable

timeframe for one to attain

his or her prize for the life

that is hoped for and wished?


The CEO sleeps in his

10,000 thread count silky sheets

Head on pillow while sweet

dreams fill his eyes with happiness

Remembering from a time

of beginning, when wallet was empty

Now, blessed from earning

his ultimate happiness of affording any luxury


The sister of spirit sitting in her

house of god reading her psalms

Dedicating her life to holiness

and many moments spent “alone”

Waiting her entire life to finally

compliment herself in her

obtainment of Heaven;

loving everyone and everything


What of joy, what of this true love?

A mission to accomplish for any

foolish boy or girl, romanticizing and

getting lost in the many lovely fairy tales

Or, motivated by goals of self

Whether selfless or not

Words are not to be trusted in

circumstances such as this


Four seasons depicting times of change

Flashes of life and death celebrations

Individuals interchanging ideas of an Eldorado;

Mine, has always been the same


I am grateful for rainy days ❤

Away They Go


~In my head this is played with an acoustic tune through a variety of minor chords and finger pickin’. Feeling the home grown roots tonight! I hope you enjoy :)~

She was sitting on a curb
Pillow and blanket in her hand
Watching the cars fly by
Seeing the predicament they were in
People boxed away in their
Containments of metal and glass
She turned her back to them
Feeling their fire burned up
and turned to ash

He floated down from the sky
A Kerouac book in his hands
And sat next to her
Like good ol’ lost friends
He talked about nothing
As strangers often do
He shot up from the ground
After a minute or two
and she waved goodbye to him

A light burst from the sky
He came back down to Earth
Grabbed her by the hand, and said
I could use some comfort and warmth
He took her on a trip
A journey of possibilities
Taking her to the house where she
Dreamt of knives and heard her own screams
and then he left her there

The murderer tried, yeah he did
He tried to kill all of us
She ran away from him
She ran away from them all
The girl found herself
Standing on another curb
Throwing out a thumb
Getting picked up by a trucker man
and he said

“Death will surely find you
Sooner or later he’ll come
He’ll have Bright Eyes you can stare into
And an instigator’s tongue
Telling you your stories
Until you think you’ve heard enough
Yeah, that death will show up
on your doorstep
Wearing a suit vest and
a shaggy haircut.”

And away they go
Off into the sunset
Away they go
Off into the sunset
The time is NOW, when
the shadows catch up with the light
And away they go
Off into the sunset

Away they go
Away they go
Away they go

I am grateful for all of my old neighbors who loved to play music at every gathering ❤



Gazing into the open gate of hell

the literal abyss of hades

With its jagged canines from the ground clenched in meeting

of the stalactites trickling down an acidic saliva

in motion to bite with the deadliest mastication

The acrid stench invading the lungs with every stagnant breath

lingering close to penetrate nostrils

Trying to suffocate the mind into action, panic

Time is endless and doesn’t exist

bearing the illusion of importance in the insignificant

The mouth is hungry for raw flesh

In want of emotion and the destruction of the feelings created

beyond the questions of meaning or individual interpretations

A cavern of retreat for the cheapest of souls

Blocking out all light with an overwhelming sense of dread

No fire ablaze to guide the wanderers, lost and searching for

an escape within the darkness

Desperately feeling their way into the arms of death

People of the night losing identity within the numbing embrace

Forgetting right and wrong, or anything related to the living; breathing

Echoes whisper from beyond the cimmerian haunt

Tempestuous cries, tempting the abandoned to desert

the rationality of being alone

Wrapped inside my arms, I hide

Every tear falling as a single goodbye for the creatures

marching towards the end of all ends

A loner of thoughts, capturing the last emotional responses of those that past;

I have become a watcher of demons



I am grateful for love ❤

Originally Written


Sometimes feeling the power of movement from pen to paper offers a

more satisfyingly embrace of a language

uncharacteristic of fingers to keys;


unless of course the keys produce the vibrational

sound of something inspiring like one of Mozart’s symphonies


but not in the case of this definitional confusing

of one word or phrase, meaning something entirely

different from the former thought before

getting distracted by the various amounts of rants, excuse me…


Ahem, so thereby standing on the placidly positioned

soapbox of feministic qualities, though I

rarely try to label an individual’s activities,

especially those to classify as my own,

My restlessness speaks volumes, as my

injured hand can attest


To feel moved to creation whereas typing any word seems

disheartening, not as interesting as to

Write for the excitement of feeling; of the trailing of thought

shooting out of psyche and sprouting down into index finger

and thumb, balancing on the delicate


bird only addressed, usually by some

douchebag distracted: one hand on wheel, one hand caressing cell;

A momentary lapse of judgment that is peculiar for this gender,

or so it would seem, portrayed as even now

as I continue choosing dedication over comfort


With sword in mouth ready to slice down,

willing to action of emitting random passions

Sharp intestinal misgivings of simple realities


even as unaware of own, claiming idols

worthy of noteworthy admiration and a bit of honorary

imitation, but there is still a slightly

less than relatable piece for me, missing from their

well-versed lines and spiritually bending

phrases, as if human can only relate to human

a true bond, for sure but not quite the answer


to the riddle playing its familiar melody of

whispering quandaries of

culture, gender, religion, spirit, death, life

Where do we belong in a piece written

by one but to be addressed to us all?

To connect in hand, placing words in text to hold onto,

instead of a sweaty handshake

or an awkward hug


My silence is weak, I sometimes can go

days without tracing out some thought

through the maze of my head

Trudging through the hedging, trying to

find the way out

Lost, alone, Nay!


That’s what they say; if a hedge is a wall built to stand up against those

willing to blindly follow an isolated pathway


Getting lost in the tunnel vision view of the artistically enhanced corn

being recorded for the loner’s documentary of the world;

it’s numbing to write of everyone else,

to escape one’s thoughts that lead to the downward pathway

to hell? No,

but it’s easier to see than to ignore, easier to sleep than

stay awake with the unmistakable guilt, my definition of hell

Maybe different than yours? like a cliché metaphoric

labyrinth comparison to fields of starches:


Indefinable routes to confuse, to make it difficult to navigate, persuading

looping circles of repetitive moments of frustration

lapses in navigation of self that lead to the same heartbreaking dead ends

Any escape out of the hedge is congratulated

by storytellers who sit on the edge

addicted to the thrill of the tournament and the shame of the


Continuing tradition of keeping score, figures as pawns

in a different kind of sport

Hiding in the leaves, forever writing down their perceptions in

sketches and notes


But as for me, I see a hedge and branches, breakable twigs

Moldable objects destined to be worked by an imagination capable of cutting down

any barrier presentable to man, or woman;

(boots firmly placed on box of stance

asking for attention in the power of height

Raising the volume of the mic and positioning spotlight

as if declaring awareness just by the production of it all)


If a hedge is a wall and a wall separates two pieces of the puzzle

that connect everything together

then the wall is a chapter, a small hurdle of

situation and placement

easily defeated by will of the heart;

mine fueling the fire to burn each green leaf

to the ground, flaming up in an orange shade of rust

A hole in the greenery


Burning out a definable pathway, following the trail

Laying out my own personal depiction of the yellow brick road of

escaping the sticky spiderweb of self and

Introducing one’s own world of amazement at the end of the

short story;

Originally written.


I am grateful for peppermint patties ❤


Looking down, I see a tiny blade protruding from my chest
Watch, as the thick crimson flows down in a thirsty trail from my heart
The pool, turning black at my feet,
As in the representation of the extinction of life; and it is
The tar-like edges clinging to my skin,
Covering the pink flesh
I’m falling
Fading out,
Clouding vision,
And I am alone
The murderer, refusing to sacrifice, ran away
i am grateful for kind words. ❤