Monthly Archives: May 2010

This Life

When this life expires
Will it be a life well lived?
Will the right choices have been made?
Was it a life at all?

When I cease to exist
Will you remember me for how I died?
Will you remember me for how I lived?
Will you remember me?

When I breathe that final breath
Will you still be by my side?
Will you forgive me my transgressions?
Will you have breathed your final first?

When I embrace the life hereafter
Will I greet you with a smile?
Will I greet you as my long lost love?
Will I greet you as a friend?

When I arrive in a place of grace
Will I sit with my God and maker?
Will He answer me my many questions?
Will I remember?

When this life expires
Will it be a life well lived?
Will the right choices have been made?
Was it a life at all?

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…Ugh…

A new style of living, loving and hating
A new style of peace, war and …
A new style of knowing, writing and reading
A new style of fabricating

Rebirth and generation
Rebirth of agitation
Rebirth of lost affection
Rebirth of …

Civilian lifestyles arranged by the wicked
Wicked lifestyles coveted by the poor
In a series of new stylistic attempts
We all falter and scream and turn

Rebirth!
Regeneration!
Repagination!
Re-assimilation!

Re …

*(… = uh / sigh)*


Bringing Up the Future

And my heart broke
As I saw you in your past
As I saw what you were
And what you are now

And inside I wept
As I saw your innocence
And how it has since passed

And I grew overwhelmed
As the pain of realisation stained me
As I saw how helpless as a child I was
And how useless your parents were

And inside I grew bitter
I grew tired and distressed
I grew cold and scheming
I grew a deeper understanding
Of a task needing completion

The task of bringing up the future


Outside View

Maybe it’s because he has fallen in love with falling in love
Maybe this is why he always feels so down
He knows what love should be
And it’s not what he’s getting –
Any fool can see

Maybe it’s because she has been in a state of love before
Maybe that’s why she handles things the way she does
She knows that she is loving him
She knows it makes him happy –
Any fool can see

None of them really know what the other needs
Yet both of them pride themselves on knowing what the other needs
None of them really feel connected to the other
Yet they pride themselves on having another half

It’s what they both need –
Any fool can see


?

She said that she loved you
In your heart there was no doubt that you loved her too
Now you’re shit out of luck and shit out of love
Rise above what she sent you
Rise against where she sent you
Hell isn’t a bad place to be as long as you’ve got company


The Heretic

Walk in your lines, obey their commands
Laugh, smile, and be merry – you’re not part of the system
Follow blindly as they lead you with vision
Imitate the sheep of the fields as you conform to their orders

Well it’s blatant that you’ve been caught alone
The lights are shining but nobody’s home
You’re the sheep and they’re the shepherds
You’re the buck that has fallen to the leopards

Walk in your lines as they mesmerize
Follow them and obey, make them your religion
You’ve followed blindly, now you’re the cattle, they’re the tick
You’re the cattle, they’re the tick, and I’m your heretic

I’ll never follow thee, you’ll never compel me
Freedom stems to everybody
I am the power free, a heretic of thee
A true person is not like everybody


My Eternity

And my eternity slept in my arms
Peace flowed and comfort reigned
Everything absolute became my completion
I’m whole again – almost

And my eternity rested her head on my shoulder
Her scent flowed through me, her scent is with me
She is unconditional, she is true, and she is in me
I’m whole again – almost

And my eternity woke up next to me
So natural, so sweet, still smiling
Her heart seeks the truth, her heart is my truth
I’m whole again


23

He removed his towel from the wooden chair
He stood and stared at the impassive metaphor
He shed a tear; he shared its inert nature
Outside his window, life was carrying on as he broke down
Twenty three years built towards this anticlimax

He picked himself up off the floor
He stood and stared at the white bedroom door
He noticed how scuffed the white paint was becoming
Another metaphor; another symbol; another blow to his heart
Twenty three years lived only to fall apart

He stared at the blood coating his wrist
He smelt the blood, he felt the pain; he saw her face
The axiom of his life is that it is his fault
Outside his room his spirit walked down the passage
Twenty three years lived to end at the beginning