Month: January 2021

Gross Sticky Things (a poem)

What if we fall?

Oh Lord, this is hard

The dog barks at every moving thing

One day death will make it past the dog

And through the door

Who will save me

From this mediocre existence

Inside these walls

Where they told me not to move?

Pain and suffering is what you need, girl

Show God what you’re made of

I’m just blood and guts and bones and gross sticky things

And what if I fall?

I’ve got a child to protect

What if death….

Just stop

Know that you’re just a fool

Reality isn’t really real

To believe anything else

Would be foolish.

The Devil At The Wheel (a poem)

Tell us something true

But the devil laughs and tells me no one will believe it but you

Now I no longer belong

What was right is suddenly all wrong

What was love is now hate

Bring their heads out upon a plate

The thoughts we have are the thoughts we’ve been told.

Take our vaccine you’ll never grow old

Promises, promises, of utopia and equality

Only for the price of your soul and your liberty

What did you need those for anyway?

Survive to see another day

Give us your guns, give us your knives

Remember snitching saves lives

You’ve got everything to fear

So we put the devil at the wheel

Shut up and just let him drive….

The Last Days Of Man

I dig the knife into the tree. Slipping the blade beneath the bark ripping it up so I can see the fragile green underbelly. Over and over again peeling away the skin. What I’m doing is perhaps cruel. That knowledge is there, but there is no feeling behind it. I should feel something shouldn’t I? Regret at destroying it. Exposing it to the harsh elements of this world. Ripping away the one thing that was protecting it. 

Why am I doing this? Why do I keep at it?I don’t know, but I don’t seem to want to stop. It’s something to distract me. To keep the thoughts away. These dark thoughts. I don’t even know if they are mine. They feel foreign. Like someone is whispering in my ear. Constantly telling me what to do, what to think, what to feel. And yet…they feel a little less foreign than they did yesterday. Like it was becoming a part of me. 

I hadn’t been the same since they “cured” me. 

I’m going to betray you.” I had said. And I thought I should care. I don’t want this do I? But I probably won’t be able to stop myself. Eventually that whisper was going to become a scream. It would take me over. I should fight it. I should care. 

She had looked at me, frozen in place. Pain tugging at her lips. Her eyes were the color of ice. “No, no you won’t.” But her voice broke. She wasn’t sure she believed it. 

It was then I picked up the knife. A small little involuntary gasp left her lips and she took a quick step back. I think I shook my head and laughed as if she were being ridiculous. She was not….Ah, that’s why I’m doing this. I remember now. If I didn’t take the knife to the tree it would have sunk in somewhere else. Perhaps her pretty pink flesh.. And I think I would have regretted that, wouldn’t I? 

What was happening to me? The whispering dissolved into a slow chuckle.

The Last Days Of Man

I dig the knife into the tree. Slipping the blade beneath the bark ripping it up so I can see the fragile green underbelly. Over and over again peeling away the skin. What I’m doing is perhaps cruel. That knowledge is there, but there is no feeling behind it. I should feel something shouldn’t I? Regret at destroying it. Exposing it to the harsh elements of this world. Ripping away the one thing that was protecting it. 

Why am I doing this? Why do I keep at it?I don’t know, but I don’t seem to want to stop. It’s something to distract me. To keep the thoughts away. These dark thoughts. I don’t even know if they are mine. They feel foreign. Like someone is whispering in my ear. Constantly telling me what to do, what to think, what to feel. And yet…they feel a little less foreign than they did yesterday. Like it was becoming a part of me. 

I hadn’t been the same since they “cured” me. 

I’m going to betray you.” I had said. And I thought I should care. I don’t want this do I? But I probably won’t be able to stop myself. Eventually that whisper was going to become a scream. It would take me over. I should fight it. I should care. 

She had looked at me, frozen in place. Pain tugging at her lips. Her eyes were the color of ice. “No, no you won’t.” But her voice broke. She wasn’t sure she believed it. 

It was then I picked up the knife. A small little involuntary gasp left her lips and she took a quick step back. I think I shook my head and laughed as if she were being ridiculous. She was not….Ah, that’s why I’m doing this. I remember now. If I didn’t take the knife to the tree it would have sunk in somewhere else. Perhaps her pretty pink flesh.. And I think I would have regretted that, wouldn’t I? 

What was happening to me? The whispering dissolved into a slow chuckle.

The Last Days Of Man

I dig the knife into the tree. Slipping the blade beneath the bark ripping it up so I can see the fragile green underbelly. Over and over again peeling away the skin. What I’m doing is perhaps cruel. That knowledge is there, but there is no feeling behind it. I should feel something shouldn’t I? Regret at destroying it. Exposing it to the harsh elements of this world. Ripping away the one thing that was protecting it. 

Why am I doing this? Why do I keep at it?I don’t know, but I don’t seem to want to stop. It’s something to distract me. To keep the thoughts away. These dark thoughts. I don’t even know if they are mine. They feel foreign. Like someone is whispering in my ear. Constantly telling me what to do, what to think, what to feel. And yet…they feel a little less foreign than they did yesterday. Like it was becoming a part of me. 

I hadn’t been the same since they “cured” me. 

I’m going to betray you.” I had said. And I thought I should care. I don’t want this do I? But I probably won’t be able to stop myself. Eventually that whisper was going to become a scream. It would take me over. I should fight it. I should care. 

She had looked at me, frozen in place. Pain tugging at her lips. Her eyes were the color of ice. “No, no you won’t.” But her voice broke. She wasn’t sure she believed it. 

It was then I picked up the knife. A small little involuntary gasp left her lips and she took a quick step back. I think I shook my head and laughed as if she were being ridiculous. She was not….Ah, that’s why I’m doing this. I remember now. If I didn’t take the knife to the tree it would have sunk in somewhere else. Perhaps her pretty pink flesh.. And I think I would have regretted that, wouldn’t I? 

What was happening to me? The whispering dissolved into a slow chuckle.

The Last Days Of Man

I dig the knife into the tree. Slipping the blade beneath the bark ripping it up so I can see the fragile green underbelly. Over and over again peeling away the skin. What I’m doing is perhaps cruel. That knowledge is there, but there is no feeling behind it. I should feel something shouldn’t I? Regret at destroying it. Exposing it to the harsh elements of this world. Ripping away the one thing that was protecting it.

Why am I doing this? Why do I keep at it?I don’t know, but I don’t seem to want to stop. It’s something to distract me. To keep the thoughts away. These dark thoughts. I don’t even know if they are mine. They feel foreign. Like someone is whispering in my ear. Constantly telling me what to do, what to think, what to feel. And yet…they feel a little less foreign than they did yesterday. Like it was becoming a part of me.

I hadn’t been the same since they “cured” me.

I’m going to betray you.” I had said. And I thought I should care. I don’t want this do I? But I probably won’t be able to stop myself. Eventually that whisper was going to become a scream. It would take me over. I should fight it. I should care.

She had looked at me, frozen in place. Pain tugging at her lips. Her eyes were the color of ice. “No, no you won’t.” But her voice broke. She wasn’t sure she believed it.

It was then I picked up the knife. A small little involuntary gasp left her lips and she took a quick step back. I think I shook my head and laughed as if she were being ridiculous. She was not….Ah, that’s why I’m doing this. I remember now. If I didn’t take the knife to the tree it would have sunk in somewhere else. Perhaps her pretty pink flesh.. And I think I would have regretted that, wouldn’t I?

What was happening to me? The whispering dissolved into a slow chuckle.

Authors note: I’m not entirely sure where I’m going with this one exactly. Right now these characters and stories are scattered thoughts created from my angst at current events. Perhaps one day they will come together. Feedback is always appreciated.

Darkness (a poem)

In this darkness

Will we have any victories?

Will we ever find truth buried under all these lies?

Will death trodden over us with heavy boots?

Breaking bones and breaking spirits

Will we all become dust again???

In this darkness

Where dreams morph into nightmares

Where evil is good and good is evil

The place where we all turn into wolves

And then turn on each other

With cheers for the death of democracy

Will we all become drones?

In this darkness

Where we embrace slavery

Where we embrace hate

Where we embrace fear

Can any of us be saved???

Will we ever find the light again?

Lies (2021 Poetry)

Lies, lies and statistics

Twain once said

They wiped the smile from our faces

Snitching saves lives

I’ll say it again and again until you believe it

Wait until more of you die

The madman said with a fiendish giggle

Do I have your attention yet?

For we live in a time of prophecy

A time of tribulatuon

A time of magic

(If you’re willing to look for it)

No one knows anymore

Friend from foe

The truth is insane I tell you

Wake up, wake up

You’ve been dreaming this whole time.

Wake up, wake up

Time to abandon your lies.