CHAPTER 1
1,000 Miles
I am the schizoid
Behind this nocturnal beauty mask.
I am null and void
What? When? Who? And why?
Don't ask ...
I can see beyond
Without binoculars.
I can sing a song.
I am of the vernacular ...
Such a waste
To pour genius on.
Take a taste
In between songs ...
Madness envelops me,
I will not lie.
It helps develop me
In the front of my mind ...
Let's take a radioactive walk. Dimensions will unfold.
Let's make retroactive talk,
Retention to be told ...
A burn, a scar,
I'm crucified on a greeting card.
A kiss, a smile,
Rectified I walk 1,000 miles.
A Backwards Labor
Pregnant with abuse.
Let the eggs hatch.
These have all been used.
Call for a fresher batch ...
Ovum overflowed.
The sperm laughs.
Sit back and watch the show,
As the two cross paths ...
A black and blue birth.
The abuse begins
From the man not of this Earth.
He sits back with a grin ...
A backwards labor.
A baby born, his seed indeed.
Mother tried to savor,
A false baby with thoughts in need ...
A poet born under a bad sign.
Nobody's fault but mine.
A Breathless Vintage
Words run down like a stream on a glacier's peak.
The poet that I am releases ink,
To save the strong from the weak,
Before I am dead and extinct ...
Burning the candle at both ends,
Got to write, 'tis my fate.
No time nor need for friends.
I'm full with words still on my plate ...
Maggots squirm
Lost in the gray matter.
'Tis but a worm
Tossed in the batter ...
A muscle ache. A heartbreak.
If the organs I could align,
They would speak to you in common time ...
Relentless apprentice.
Listen to my vowels and attributes. A
breathless vintage,
Lining my grave with a trowel of retribution.
A Dream Unglued
Watch your step
As I regress.
A little bit
Of loneliness ...
I beg you to forget
What agony I've beset.
A copulation gone awry.
Mother, please don't cry ...
I gave my sins up for Christ,
So he too would not suffer.
A golden grin.
A perfect heist.
All that I am, is all can offer ...
I sin as much as the others.
The dead never leave my sight.
Wherein as much, I too suffer.
In my head I receive what to write ...
Some are good. Some are bad. Misunderstood, I've gone mad.
The leftovers of a dream unglued.
Ugly scenes. I see them too ...
All in all
I heed their call,
And hope I don't fall.
A False Derivative
Solace is all in the attitude.
A false derivative.
We soar to higher altitudes
To keep from being primitive ...
Writers are cannibals, you see,
Devouring words like candy.
Writers are animals, rabid to the teeth,
Scouring inwards rapidly ...
We rape books, page by page.
In earnest we set the stage
Complementing our own brains.
Geniuses are what remains ...
We're serving the apprentices,
To learn. We bring our appetites
And serve up raw dishes.
Too sick, we don't take a bite ...
Isolated in crowded venues,
We stop and hesitate to speak.
For fear of the cowardly abuse,
To speak of such is weak.
A Fetal Elixir
Biblical prophecies.
The extermination,
Swallowed up by the seas.
A sacred examination ...
By all rights, I have sinned.
Coventry was always there.
Against my tomb I was pinned.
By what rights do you care? ...
Stuck in a purgatory
Mixed up in a laboratory,
A fetal elixir
To keep me young.
That should be the mixture
To consume all till I'm done ...
Toss away stained sheets,
Stained by nightmares.
I'll sound the retreat.
But, do you care? ...
Witness a testament.
An inpatient recluse.
They tried a regimen,
An impatient excuse.
I had an allergic reaction
To their regimen.
So, they took action ...
A Forest Without Trees
Precision is the importance
When in writing.
Like an incision at a glance
Chewing and biting ...
I prayed for love.
But, answer, there came none.
I feel not love.
I am the lonely one ...
In a forest without trees
I'm sitting on a branch of thorns,
Looking down on you omnisciently.
Wishing and praying for more ...
To feel reality,
I never want to taste.
For in fantasy
Is where I feel safe ...
I am the god of hopelessness.
Breeding under your skin.
I am the rot of the thoughtless
Remnants of your sin ...
Punished for eternity
To be alone.
Some think it a calamity.
But, I call it home.
A Frontal Lobe Eclipse
A shading on the brain.
A frontal lobe eclipse,
Degrading my name
When words leave my lips
At night,
Satellite
Hovers over me.
Then day
Wash away
And uncover me ...
A parietal lobe.
A societal ode.
Read to them. They will follow.
A sacred hymn too bitter to swallow ...
Then, take flight to madness shores.
An empirical debate.
Only at night, the sadness whores
Show their lyrical state.
A Great Barrage
I can only write in my own house.
Weird, but true.
Because it's there they find me out.
They love abuse ...
One stanza after another.
I take dictation.
My words are another's.
There is no eradication ...
My doctor says,
It's all in my head.
There's no way
To exterminate where they're bred ...
I even bought an expensive pen
And cheap paper to write on.
Want to make it count when they come again.
A deep pauper goes on, and on ...
Lose the mirage.
Tragedy strikes a pose.
A great barrage
Ceases to expose.
A Happy Medium
Under heavy dew with stars in her eyes.
The forest without trees is her home.
She took to me to help me realize,
Even a forest without trees is not alone ...
An even view of paradise.
I am humble before her.
No more blues from criticize.
No more artist tortured ...
I might be disabled,
A little sick in the head.
But, I'm enabled
To learn the tricks of the dead ...
A happy medium I wish to be.
No more demons.
No more monsters.
No more impeding, distinguish me.
All the scheming of body no longer ...
Emotions bottled up now set free,
Lingering somewhere out there in space.
My maker maketh me almost complete,
Master of my own intellectual race.
A Hell In Birth
Situated in a glance of a nightmare,
There I fell to Earth,
Whilst a dark romance caught me unaware.
There a Hell in my birth ...
Once into the breech A
coward at the start.
Within an arm's reach
I move toward the stars ...
Conspiring correspondence
Wavering over the wire.
Denying despondency,
Undercover in the choir ...
Touched by Divinity,
The Angel marks His halo, Incorporating the Trinity.
The Angel maketh me to lay low ...
In conspicuous fields
Shepherds bloom.
Deliciously I yield
To give the shepherds room ...
Whether 'tis be Hell at my birth
And Heaven at the end.
I know not my sentence on
Earth, And the letters I shall send.
A Home Called Isolation
The monotonous lips
Begging for a kiss,
To quench the thirst gone stale.
The roomy hips.
Between them is bliss,
And I exhale ...
I have the utmost affection for thee.
But, my mind is split indefinitely.
Conquer me, be my savior tonight,
To indulge in dreams that take flight.
Yet, the dreams turn to nightmares.
I hope you're not one who easily scares ...
Shadow people I have seen.
To the future I have been,
To find nothing but desolation,
In my home called isolation ...
Hopes and dreams,
And waking screams.
Follow me to the pit of my fears. Obscene scenes
I try to keep clean,
Something to replace the tears ...
I envy you,
And all the things you do.
A Homeless Soul Forgotten
Safely secured in your soul's home,
I'm a homeless soul forgotten.
You brag about not being alone,
My jealousy holds are rotten ...
Would you like to share your testimony?
While mother gathers alimony?
Testify for this poet on trial.
Rectify on the pulpit awhile ...
Your sincerity is but a false one,
Reducing me to dust.
Once in a while I leave home,
Seducing gravity ...a must ...
The midnight dead search in the dark
Looking for their graves in the park.
In a way I draw them out,
To tell their stories, and not leave them out.
A Hundred Pounds Of Dust
By madman's desire,
A man surrounded by lust.
The woman he admires,
Is a hundred pounds of dust ...
Return to me
As in days of yore.
Burn in me
As you did before ...
A sacred penance.
A secret vow,
To finish a sentence
Between you now ...
Somehow I've changed.
I can't explain how.
My mind rearranged.
Got to get out somehow ...
Don't make my heart a target.
This I beg of you.
Let my mind forget
All the times you made me blue ...
Tension builds.
No release.
A hundred little pills
Will give relief.
A Life Unfulfilled
Breathe my words in,
And feel the pain.
Feel the awkward sin
As it comes again and again ...
Feel my words sear.
Burned to a crisp.
Wait as the ghosts appear
With fire on their lips ...
Taste my wrath in a rhyme.
To kill, or be killed,
A new journey in time ...
A life unfulfilled ...
Hear the voices echo in meter.
Listen to their wisdom.
I have the choice to go and meet her,
Being that I'm stuck in a prison.
A Little Blurred
The complexity of wit.
The dexterity to go with It ...
I have lusts and desires.
Every human has them.
Take a lick of the fire
To see what resides within ...
Hopelessness.
That's my burden to bear.
Desperately
Shedding the words I wear ...
And, in between,
Delusions in retention.
Take a chance and get a glance of the scene
Paralyzed at attention ...
The secondhand voices,
Once so vaguely heard,
Are now staggering noises,
A little blurred.
A Little Pick Me Up
A quiet exasperation
Of quaint intentions ...
She feeds me the Hydra's heads
To add a bit of flavor.
Hoping it will work instead
Of the sadness that I savor ...
I came to her cruel, drunk and sore.
Not much school.
My ship sunk
On Hell's shore ...
Soft benevolence
Encumbered me.
She saved me from the wire fence
That entangled me ...
A private snare
We both share.
The beat of a slave drumming
Always keeps me coming ...
In sickness, or in health,
She won't let me give up.
In Heaven's high or down in
Hell, She's always there to pick me up.
A Longing Dream
Your stifling remarks.
A gun shot in the dark.
So much blood from such a tiny hole.
The consistency of mud.
Now, the picture is whole ...
You did this!
You pushed me to the edge!
Last on your list
To be among the privileged ...
Every crime has a victim.
A murder to oneself.
And I picked him,
His gun upon the shelf ...
The barrel still hot
From that single shot.
He turned himself
Against himself ...
Maybe he could not forgive
Those that hurt him in the past.
I always thought he'd outlive
Me and the rest of the cast ...
But, he was haunted.
I could see it in his eyes.
This is what he wanted ...
A longing dream of suicide.
