Friday, February 27, 2009

Please Excuse The Blood

Divorce is hard,
You can't put the past away,
Daddy promised love,
But all he brought was pain,
A hole in her heart,
Mommy sleeps alone,
Just waiting by the phone.

Eating is evil,
Eating is pain,
All you need is control,
Control the fear,
Stop the tears,
Perfection is in sight,
No more pain,
No more shame,
Just that perfect 98.

The violent muse,
Stings the skin,
Frees the blood,
From its terrible prison,
The heart beats faster and faster,
But the pain remains the same.

Darkness fills the void,
She knows there's nothing left,
It's better to burn out,
Than to live in agony,
She takes the gun,
Pulls the trigger;

"Please excuse the blood."

*I would like to dedicate this song first and fore mostly to Per Yngve Ohlin aka Dead the singer of Mayhem who committed suicide in 1991. I got the title from his suicide note so thanks. I would also like to dedicate it to anyone who is feeling depressed or suicidal at this moment. I am not suicidal, but I do know how you feel.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

One of A Kind

A heart of gold,
A light that will never falter,
The hope that never leaves,
A blue moon that will never set.

Everybody should have a friend like you,
Yet it looks like,
You are one of a kind.

Monday, February 23, 2009

Danse Macabre*

She walks in to the ballroom,
Her dress is immaculate,
A satin, white gown*,
Entrancing and angelic,
She is the life of the party,
The radiant diamond in a valley of rocks.

The last dance,
The final dance has come!
Everyone is taken,
But she has been forsaken.

Lo and behold,
Here comes a man,
No mere man,
Dressed in a stately black suit,
He is majestic, noble,
Like a king, but not unlike a beggar as well,
He is elegant and humble,
Her perfect match.

No words are spoken,
They dance,
Slow at first,
Her heart beats BA......BOOM,
Then faster,
Even faster their legs intertwined,
They are one whirling blur,
One love, one heart, one soul,

The music is done,
The dance is over,
She collpases on the floor,
Her eyes roll back in her head,
She is positively dead.

She walks slowly,
Arms intertwined with the man,
He kindly stops for her,
The carriage held just for themselves,
And Immortality.

" No matter one's station in life, the dance of death unites all."

*Danse Macabre is Dance of Death in French.
*This is a very vague reference. If you get it you deserve a cookie.

Sunday, February 15, 2009


As I was walking,
Down that endless highway,
I roamed and rambled and followed my footsteps,
Till I came upon a crossroads,
Between the everlasting ways of Love and Life.

To my surprise,
At the old crossroads,
Was a Sphinx,
Guarding the road,
Feasting on fools,
Dumb enough to cross her path.

So there I walked,
Dumb enough to cross her path,
But wise enough to keep my distance,
I prepared myself for a perplexing puzzle,
And the very real possibility of a gory death.

To lessen my chances,
Of a bloody, gory death,
And gain the Great Sphinx's favor,
I started petting and caressing the Great Sphinx,
Till she was purring in a strange and passionate voice,
Writhing in ecstasy and intoxicated joy.

My touch did not sway the great beast,
But between salty Nile tears,
She gave me this arcane riddle:

"What is the one thing you can always and forever have, but never have as well?"

I knew the answer right away,
It came to me in a matter of seconds,
I screamed:

"The answer is YOU!!"

We both knew I was right,
Then in the most horrible way,
The old Sphinx started devouring herself:
First went the tail,
Then the torso,
Then the claws,
And finally the human head.

After that,
All I could hear was the distant roar,
Of the Sphinx,
From the aeons of infinity,
So I kept on walking,
Down that endless highway,
I roamed and rambled and followed my footsteps,
Till I finally found the field,
Where the sunlight blurs and roses fade.*

*I borrowed that last saying from a grave I saw when I visited my dad's grave. The actual saying is "The rose-lipt girls are sleeping
In fields where roses fade."

I hope this poem (I actually think it is kind of prosaic) will carry the torch of Sphinx literature that other great writers such as Sophocles, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Oscar Wilde,etc. have written about in the past.

Saturday, February 7, 2009

Psycho Circus

Little Tommy Sanders was afraid of clowns,
The ghoulish face,
The mountainous shoes,
The morbid, gruesome grin,
Clowns made Tommy cry,
and shake from within.

One day daddy said,
"I don't care if this is what you dread,
this fear you must shred,
Little Tommy cried out, "Please don't make me go,
Don't make me see my dreaded foe,
I'll do anything you ask mow, grow, and even snow."

Tommy drank some Pepsi to steady his nerves,
To prepare him for what he was gonna observe,
For the trapeze,
He was light as a breeze,
For the lions,
Tommy started to lighten,
But then came the merry andrew*,
With his laughs and fun and games,
Made little Tommy cry in fits of shame.

Then little Tommy went to the john,
And when he was done his parents were GONE!!!
He searched and searched and searched the tents,
Until he was finally spent.

Some clowns came over to Little Tommy,
And said, "We can help you find your mommy"
So he relcutantly followed the comics,
Into a tent smelling of gin and tonic.

Little Tommy ran and hid,
But the clowns they found him, they did,
They tied him up in a little brown chair,
And they chanted," You haven't a prayer,
Your folks are gone,
You will join our lair and wear what we wear,
Little Tommy cried,
"I will never join your clan,
If I must die I will die like a man!"

First the clowns took off their paint,
This almost made Tommy faint,
These clowns were not monsters, or ghouls,
But just men with evil in their hearts,
And souls that were cruel,
The men took out their weapons of torture,
They were surprisingly feathers,
Tommy they started to tickle,
He started to laugh and giggle,
He continued to giggle and giggle and giggle,
Until the torture became hurtful,
Little Tommy screamed and screamed and screamed,
Until he finally conceded,
"I will join your lair,
and wear what you wear."

Year after year passed after that fateful day,
Tom became the most famous of the clowns,
and the most gay*,
Before every show,
Tom would drink Jack Daniels
to steady his nerves, his mind, his soul,
whatever he did,
the crowd would laugh and laugh and laugh
and laugh some more.

Days, months, years passed
Wars, famines, fads didn't matter,
Just the show,
and the performance,
It didn't matter though,
even on a poor day,
the crowd would laugh and laugh and laugh
and laugh some more.

After another kidnap,
Tom felt so bad,
He knew he was gonna do it,
He took his Colt,
Out on stage,
And pulled the trigger,
the crowd laughed and laughed and laughed
and laughed some more.

*merry andrew is another name for clown.
*I mean gay like happy not homosexual.

Sunday, February 1, 2009

Published Test Sonnet

* I might be mother f-ing published. No fucking kidding. The YPS is requesting i make a sonnet so i will. It will be my greatest challenge yet.

Yesterday I was hit by a car,
When I heard the ambulance I immediately fled,
but realized I might be dead,
So I ran to the nearest bar,
To get a cigar and smoke it afar,
The barkeep stared right at me as I bled,
And not a thing he said,
So I walked on through the concrete and tar,
Now I started getting scared,
What really frightened me the most,
was the thought that I might be a ghost
Because it seemed that nobody cared,
That my body was toast,
Or that my shape was impaired.
A funny thing occured when someone bumped into me,
I realized I might not be dead, but just be a teen.