clown
Making the clown laugh
was all I ever wanted.
With his painted on smile
and his oversized shoes,
I seized the opportunity
to create cracks in his facade.
The tears of a clown are the easily found objects,
readily available to anyone who
can light fire to a library, or
silence the innocents innocence.
But the laughter…
the smiles…
genuine and true…
from deep within the bowels of the ribbons and balloons.
Those are the dreams of unicorns and rainbows
that every child seeks when drifting away
into the sandy beaches of nighttime.
So bring upon him your comedy,
your showmanship,
your tasteful humor. Add to it;
the spices of green meadows
and sunny shorelines. The fickle
winds of spring and fall,
wrapped together
in a whirlwind of newly budding and
freshly dying leaves in blazed colors
of autumn and spring.
The desire of true laughter
of deep
from the clown
is the wish-upon-a-star moment,
that we all hope for.
heart
I can’t believe in the error of my ways
They are the things often lost in the midst of my victory.
A stepping-stone of sorts;
along the blazed path of failures.
Clearly, the brightness of my future
is forever linked to the darkness of my past.
Joined together like the siamese twin freak show
found along a countryside county fair,
their existence is based solely upon their
symbiotic relationship, cell merged to cell.
As I once again, rise
the shadows release their terrible grip
on
the dawning of this new day, and
begin planning their next
secret
assault.
Turning my back on the results,
my lust for victory
outweighs the
shame of
what once was.
and can it be?
reflections
broken by the ripples of time
but
continually shaping the past
from
the present.
hardly what was once believed to be the truth
we scarcely fathom the deep instances of denial
brought to us by the unloved children of tomorrow
as they quietly step towards the black oblivion of the night.
craning our necks to be able to see where we once were
to where we want to be;
it is an obtuse illusion of death and life still reaching for progress…
or is it?
The english that spills forth from lips curled up in rebellion
is the english that breaks us free from standards that the
authority bring to it’s beings, a selfish slave.
raining down, the reign reaches down to smother the other brother while
killing the machine’s breath of simplicity.
fear and blackmail
When dealing in the business of
fear
or
blackmail,
you must first decide,
“How far do I want to take this?”
and
“Am I prepared to go all in myself?”
Because Blackmail
is a big person’s game.
You must be assured that you’ve
covered all your bases,
and all of your tracks,
if you’re trying to make another person look
worse than you already do.
Unless you’re a
yzarc
ohcysp,
“suineg”
in which case…
You never really know what reality is.
I won’t be made to fear you;
for you
have
no
credibility…
whatsoever.
Time to find some new line of business
because the fear business doesn’t suit you,
and neither does the role of the victim,
anymore.
tsuM eb emit ot worg pu.
uoY dna ruoy gnikcuf sttipmuhw.
from A to V
I never claimed to be a hero, or the hero of the day
in fact,
I distinctly remember
often
sharing how dark
and black
I am
inside.
I never wanted to be your hero
(you’re SO old, SO ugly, SO fucked in the head and yesterday’s trash)
in fact,
I doubt anyone could be.
You change who you are
at
the
whim
of your
mind.
And yet you continued to pursue me.
Like some sort of backwards moth
you fluttered around
warming yourself
to my cold
dark
heart.
Falling in a way that I should have seen,
and yet
I was mesmerized by the worship.
And yet you continued to pursue me.
I had nowhere to go,
nowhere to run -
stifled
by the constant chokehold of a crooked genius
and a master manipulator,
for this was not your first game
I was not your first victim.
And yet you continued to pursue me.
I saw the tears, read the stories
heard the cries for help.
But when did you really need help?
WHEN?
were you truly the victim?
DID?
the assaults really occur?
WAS?
Samwise really a part of your life?
HOW?
much is delusion and how much is reality?
And yet you continued to pursue me.
You twisted the truth
when
you felt
the
time was ripe.
You destroyed friendships.
You served as
referee
in your game called
crushing the innocents.
And yet you continued to pursue me.
I told you
You are strong.
But now, I see the truth.
YouAreTheWeakestIndividual-I-HaveEverBeenCursedToKnow
because it is only the weak
that continue to pull
the
victim card…
time and time again.
And yet you continued to pursue me.
Your best bet is to stand up
stop lying
stop smiling
accept who you are
and
Deal
With
It.
Quit using others
for your own selfish gain
and
STOP
CRUSHING
INNOCENTS/INNOCENCE.
You have no idea what I may do when backed into a corner.
I suffered away as an injured puppy before
taking the blame for actions that were not
mine.
But no more will I sit in silence
and idly stand by
and watch
as I am
and those closest to me
are destroyed.
No more.
You are not the victim any longer.
It’s time for me to turn the letter I wore upside down
And go
from
A
to
V
a question of lost love
I am here to tell you we can never meet again
Simple really, isn’t it, a word or two and then
A lifetime of not knowing where or how or why or when
You think of me or speak of me or wonder what befell
The someone you once loved so long ago so well
Never wonder what I’ll feel as living shuffles by
You don’t have to ask me and I need not reply
Every moment of my life from now until I die
I will think or dream of you and fail to understand
How a perfect love can be confounded out of hand
Is it written in the stars
Are we paying for some crime
Is that all that we are good for
Just a stretch of mortal time
Is this God’s experiment
In which we have no say
In which we’re given paradise
But only for a day
Nothing can be altered, there is nothing to decide
No escape, no change of heart, no anyplace to hide
You are all I’ll ever want, but this I am denied
Sometimes in my darkest thoughts, I wish I’d never learned
What it is to be in love and have that love returned
Thank you Elton John and LeAnn Rimes
lyrics from a haunted soul
Have you ever loved like this?
Please, please forgive me,
But I won’t be home again.
Maybe someday you’ll look up,
And, barely conscious, you’ll say to no one:
“Isn’t something missing?”
You won’t cry for my absence, I know -
You forgot me long ago.
Am I that unimportant…?
Am I so insignificant…?
Isn’t something missing?
Isn’t someone missing me?
Even though I’m the sacrifice,
You won’t try for me, not now.
Though I’d die to know you love me,
I’m all alone.
Isn’t someone missing me?
Please, please forgive me,
But I won’t be home again.
I know what you do to yourself,
I breathe deep and cry out,
“Isn’t something missing?
Isn’t someone missing me?”
And if I bleed, I’ll bleed,
Knowing you don’t care.
And if I sleep just to dream of you
I’ll wake without you there,
Isn’t something missing?
Isn’t something…
Thank you Amy from Evanescence
a cancer
this cigarette tasted funny
he thought
as he took one
long
last drag from it
I’ll never be the same you know
he muttered
under his breath
to her shadow
the darkened frame of the doorway
met his icy glare
as it held onto her
for only a brief second
instead of the lifetime
that he ached her to stay
as the lights burned out
one
by
one
he slowly turned in his seat
and whispered
after the last tear falls
there is love
a cellular phone rings and breaks up the silence
of a man
and his empty thoughts
of time
robbed of him
by
one woman
who shwore
he taught her love
but then shit on it
carl the lionhearted
the white rain fell
frozen thousand of feet above us
in crisp
angry swirls
as the wind
sucks the warmth
from our body, our soul
bearing no gifts
except cheapened black skin
exposed
this time and space
kills a mere mortal
who cannot dictate
oral arguments
for
staying.
Cans are lined up
and passed out
in order
to fight the bitterness
and they succeed
but they fail eventually
no british accent can be the savior of us
nor can a man step into the light of the one who isn’t there yet
aged
broken
mingling with death
this superhero has found
no one wants to be rescued
after all
nostradamus
the radar shows the present
happenings
and it’s up to us
to predict
where
we’ll be
I like Peanut Butter Cap’n Crunch
how’s that for the future?
my feet dangle from the tall stool
slowly
and
surely
the bowl empties
Future Predicted: More hunger, less cereal
No radar needed.