|
| dope is crushing on my brain
dragged down by self casted pain
fuckin bullshit metal riffs
burnin by as my mind drifts.
oh I'll say it now and then
fuckin bullshit yet again
but one thing it flies by fast
cause my patterns never last
today is just tomorrow's past.
what do I fear? Entropy
what is right here? Entropy
is it so wrong to feel so mean?
when everythings so squeaky clean
and stabbed right through my sickest dreams
made me feel like what I seem
fear me fuck this watch me scream.
one more day I waste I away
lost in prattle that I spray
shotgun murder mouth and mind
but my hands stay tied behind.
fuckin sick of playin it
sick of fuckin sayin it
but I'm so blinded by the night
that I can tell most wrong from right.
yeah you heard that right it's can
much more cursed to be so lucid
than you could ever understand.
so fuck your pussy shallow mind
fuck the dreams that lie behind.
If I can't see it no one will
maybe that's why I lie still.
| | |
| Give me that pound of flesh
A broken hand with bloody knuckles
A twisted mind and wicked chuckles
suckin in that baby's breath
while I fuck the world around me
tear my dreams right at the seams
as my mind steams hear my cold screams
at this bloody mediocrity.
Whisper in my ear that I'm not here
that I am someplace gold, that I'm still in the fold,
where it never gets cold, where I can grow old
and watch as i shed a single tear.
I'll make a retina incision
and tear your eyes from your vision
show you my mission
all with the utmost precision
in fact, I propose a toast
to my internal inflation
I'll give you a glimpse of the trepidation
Now please view this prose:
I have a vision of a purpose, that one can walk outside and walk anyplace, greet anyone, go anywhere and do anything. There is no need to hate, lie, cheat, or steal because everyone has everything that they want. There is plenty of food, there is good entertainment. Minstrels are playing music in the streets as children play ball and dogs run freely. Everyone works, but it doesn't take much to thrive because everyone works together. There is no nation, there is no military, there is no need for protection from other humans, but our town does have powerful warrior champions who took up that position after years of battle training done of their own volition. Everyone gets along for the most part, there is no need for a justice system because no one believes that they are good enough to judge anyone else.
But then, I walk outside. A middle aged man looks the other way as we pass on the sidewalk. I walk into sheetz and the 15 customers in it are not saying a word to one another. The town stinks, literally. It smells of burnt oil, trash, and gasoline. I go back inside, and sit on the computer for another 6 hours until i have to go stand under the flourescent lights and push buttons on a touch screen for 8 hours to make money so that I can buy prepacked dry frozen food packets and afford the insane cost of fueling my car and keeping my also very expensive rented house somewhat warm. I don't HAVE to do this, but in order for me to even somewhat fit into society and not get mocked in every conversation I have with everyone, I, as a 24 year old single male, should have my own place, a "good job", and a car. All of which I have. It really isn't all it's cracked up to be, is what I'm saying. Fuck this prepackaged dry frozen lifestyle, fuck playing on the computer for fun, fuck my good job, fuck thinking about going to college, fuck not saying hi to people, fuck getting girlfriend for the sake of having one. But I'll still do it, I'll still do it all again tomorrow. Nothing is scarier to me than that:
I've said it all before with even more sorrow
That if we had another way to be
then we just may break free
of this perpetual tomorrow.
| | |
| Bzzrrttt ddurrrr blurr PING PING PING... Mental Connection Activated: Commence Imagination
From the doped out network of envisionary domination, the sounds of the warrior smashing on the giga drums of the entrancing abyss ring out across the dystopian entropy of the neural caverns we've so affectionately deemed five ones. Everything moves to the rhythm of the drums, from the killer jester warriors breathing fire on government officials while freeing the minds of police officers by separating their heads from their shoulders through flashy backflips they had to spend years learning to do.. while on stilts to the couple who is forever new and in love, never losing the amazed look in their eyes as they dance through space, fuel the twirling of the stars and have us all stare up in wonder at what might have been, what shall be, and give the ultimate grace of good luck on those that never ask why. In all this magic and splendor, there is a dark and dank corner of pure order, where imagination meets reality in anything but a graceful connection. Where things are how they are, where people act how they act. Where there is no magic, no entropy, no battle, no honor, no wisdom, and most of all, no hope. There is a no way to facilitate the disconnect from this horrid little span of reality, for this is the sector that is to be seen with the eyes, heard with the ears, felt with the skin, tasted, and smelled. You eat it up. You crap it out. This is physical existence, and it has been rotting away into pure fucking shit. That is all it is, all it will ever be. Fuck you and your reality, Fuck this world, Fuck every minute that I realize that I am actually here. I hope this leaves a rotten taste in your mouth, cause this world leaves a rotten pit in my mind. Sunshine and happiness to all you dope mofo's that actually read this, may you ride to splendor and ever affectionate bliss on the wings of a chaotic anarchy that we all have a hand in making, as we leave this world a less boring place for future generations. That's Dope.
| | |
| no good-night kiss, just winking stars
floating to sleep, hung half-way between
the moon and the shrinking earth
suspended, without a mattress or a pea
for a princess.
one hundred and fifty years to dream
a Sleeping Beauty sleep, the injection
my spinning wheel spindle
weaving spells of slow motion
into the future.
climbing higher into space, sinking
deeper into sleep, tucked inside
our spaceship, silently waiting
one and twenty spacebirds, sleeping
in a frozen pie.
reaching further than a lifetime
flying beyond old nursery rhymes
a falling star singing lullabies
I wonder if a prince might wake me
with a kiss.no good-night kiss, just winking stars
floating to sleep, hung half-way between
the moon and the shrinking earth
suspended, without a mattress or a pea
for a princess.
one hundred and fifty years to dream
a Sleeping Beauty sleep, the injection
my spinning wheel spindle
weaving spells of slow motion
into the future.
climbing higher into space, sinking
deeper into sleep, tucked inside
our spaceship, silently waiting
one and twenty spacebirds, sleeping
in a frozen pie.
reaching further than a lifetime
flying beyond old nursery rhymes
a falling star singing lullabies
I wonder if a prince might wake me
with a kiss.
| | |
|
