Ox to Ore (2009)


The Blind Eye (2009)
What’s ours is ours, we will not be told to part with our wealth in deference to love.  We are scored out.  Paid in full.  The rest is ours to punish with as we see fit to sort.  We will not burden guilt of our earned fortunes.  We will not be party to handouts to the weak.  We put our faith in our kings and affiliations, and turn a blind eye to the desperate that dare to be.  Our endeavors, they dictate our love, as our love does not dictate our efforts.  We are the peacemakers in arms.  Our endeavors they dictate our love, as our love does not dictate our efforts.  The heart is weak and designed to suffer in its place.  It boasts its pull, but has secretly set its price, and on sale.


Joyless in Life (2009)


To My Ruin (2009)
In my house, I find that those with hard hearts, they burden me with their contempt.  I can not bring myself to love as I should.  No.  Stomachs turn.  Every kind word must be earned with an act.  I am not spoken to as a man and my heart, it plots.  I can feel the weight of a practiced prayer miles away.  The fear that I must have an enemy to motivate is all too real.  But have I found my enemy in myself, or in others that see their own weaknesses in my work?  They have no worth.  The door will strike on the way out if the right questions are asked.  Somewhere there is a catalog of my failures.  It is held by men and I do not hold any sway.  Knowing this, it has sharpened my tongue to that of an expert.  I serve better as a buffer than I did as a brother.  I allowed authority over myself that [was] meant to guard my heart as a lion.  And in turn move not.  I chose to prepare for pain and follow it to its ruin. To my ruin.  Promise to not let me get comfortable.


Absent in Death (2009)
Absent in death. Alone.


 Through Sparrows I Rest (2009)
Whisper truth and make yourself of no reputation.  Don’t fear the “righteous” and their new loves.  Kick against those who throttle their strength as a master.  Embrace the weak with more than you have and lead.  Don’t hide your sick.  Put it on display for everyone to suffer and kill your secrets dead with one moment.  I will not meet any of your needs and I will disappoint.   We will not avert our eyes.  And to those who say “I only ask the least,” I say ask nothing at all.  Demand they give all of themselves.  If my heart and tongue must be poisoned to purge my flesh, then let it fall off the bone.  This will fail at the grave.  We excel at saddling a suffering on all those in reach.  I can see only young cowards that plot against man and all his stock.  Against me.  Let me find rest through sparrows, who focus on the moments needs and do not stray from the facts.


Ore to Earth (2009)


The Plot Against My Love (2008)
I had to cut them off.  They had me bought and sold.  They plot against my love with my fears in their hands.  I climbed into bed with no will to refuse them.  If for just one night.  In my haste I had to cut them off my flesh. I bought our lives in bulk.  Refused sacrifice.  I would not concede this damn curse that binds my blood.  I am lost when my blood guides my hand and chooses to ignore.  When my personal passover is a failure to discern an obvious liar.  They write in anger that what they own is theirs, and they replace charity with a hollow gesture.  They recruit angry fools to replace the old law that was handed down to them and fulfilled with their own sick and twisted games.  They can be kept with little effort as no one checks but once a week.  And only but a few will make them turn their heads.  They tithe as a purchase of right.  As a pack of liars they set themselves as the standard, and put you in your place where you always belonged, but were too foolish to understand.  Sub to their culture of pretenders in their white sheets that will sway easy to their will.  I had to cut them off of my flesh, I had to separate the head from the body the way that I would any other serpent. Grown men told me they loved me then disappeared.  Grown men demanded apologies of me.  None were given.  But I’ve bit my tongue and checked my heart.  I cut off my flesh and I conceded my fear to flee.  I was left behind while our business took its seat in its rightful place.  In the hearts of business men.  I am lost.  I was questioned and refused.  I was given something you could say is a gift.  But I do not.  Free is cheap and what’s cheap is tossed.  It’s what we are taught.  And in that we have always trusted firm.  I have faith that this promise will not be overturned.


The Comedian in Question (2008)


Liars!  Oh, these hypocrites! I was right!  They are their own enemy.  And only represent their own wants and needs.  Why have you fooled me?  I have no will to entertain them.  His heart, it whispers lies that he’s beyond reproach.  Beyond reproach of men.  That there is no room for those that question their need for distractions.  Defy the thought that I have anything to offer based on the cut to your ego.


Wild Ox Moan (2008)


Come on loyal woman, I gotta hear that wild ox moan.  I think I heard that wild ox moan.  Come on loyal woman, I think that I can hear that wild ox moan.  I think that I can hear your heart beating, but can you handle the depths to which I will sink to satisfy myself, and stomach my needs.  Does your loyalty shake at my secret deeds as I do?  Would you judge me before I have finished my own story?  You’ve seen me, you don’t look away.  Can I trust you?  For several years I woke in sweat that I murdered that boy under the north wall.  The weight on my heart was so heavy it would heave and vomit often.  Of the devil’s family now; as the fantasies of a justified kill in Topeka made me just as weak and ill.  And to you men who fail in their hate, I am your voice.  Come on loyal woman, I think that I can hear that wild ox moan.


Designed to Break a Man (2008)


My friend is fragile and will break if words are not in perfect order.  I can profess my love and it can be an insult.  My mood and meaning were detailed for me contrary to its intent or truth.  I will incite a wrath designed to break a man and I expect challenge.  The rabbit trails and tears I’ve indulged to be fair to something I can not understand.   I will incite a wrath designed to break a man and I expect challenge.  I have no heart.  I can demand that this has no business in this business but that does not make it any less real, or here, or right now.  We bitch and moan, but our prologue suggests we’re spoiled.  Do we create a conflict simply to overcome when we rely on ourselves?  Or is this as real as pain and it has only been hidden too well?  I confess my heart tells me both.  It suggests a void in my faith.  I promise if I see your disgust, I will go for your throat.


Where Satire Sours (2008)



The Villain We Won’t Deny (2008)


If something could be done about the pain my words bring, it certainly would not be by my own will.  You have seen my wickedness.  Soothing it with smoke neither calmed it nor distracted it from its target.  It threatened the very days I had left with no consolation.  It only left a bad taste in my mouth, yet to be outgrown in time.  My questions go unanswered like many have complained before, but I never want to admit how weak and foolish the heart is in secret.  It’s dormant on the best of days.


The Purveyor of Novelty and Nonsense (2008)


I am a merchant who fills this land with the novelty and nonsense that withers wills.  My struggle is to keep up with what country demands, and family deserves.  I put the bread in the mouths of my best and last hope that this name ears honor.  It will be the first.  I am a purveyor of bullshit and landfill, and broken dreams.  Oh look how I’ve made an inheritance of others ideas.  Most of which should not have left their lips.  I fear that my usefulness has expired.  Yet you won’t let me go.  I am in a race to produce things to buy things to eat things to make more things.  I don’t have the tools to withdraw myself.  We are not hearty, we are usually fallen ill. Is it the tough conversations that warrant our stay?  See I am powerless and take no pleasure in hard battles of words won.  But is this my story?  I struggle to love right here, the shadows that pass me by.  Why should I leave my land? I question the motives of those I should prop up on my shoulders and carry; but not my own at any time.  I will not leave my land.


In My Wake, For My Own (2008)


I am a slave to serve my seed, and balance its sick needs.  Nothing but pain if it is tipped either way but straight down the middle of its cold heart.  I am a slave with no will or purpose.  It keeps me all night head deep in endless talk.  I do not identify with the secret and prudent whisperers who seek to lie, to hide their ignored sins.  Instead I let myself be haunted by cruel decisions our youth lead us.  Still let the guilt of used up girls punish my nights and guide my days.  Under my roof is my challenge.  I am a slave, and right now women are stepping out of little girls of mine.  A motion in play for a decade so close it went unseen.  Make my way for them in fear.  In my wake, for my own.


New Voids in One’s Resolve (2008)


Ousted, and I don’t like where this is going now.  I will fall back on old crutches in an attempt to fill voids.  When I am most bankrupt I must be entertained, to pass time and the pain.  Something is broken now.  I no longer have any will to entertain with my conflict.  Short of breath, but not from witnessing any sort of glory; rather,  from my own weakness and fragile frame.  I demand perfection but do not dare and strive to achieve it in myself.  I have only seen myself once, and it slept soundly.  I have chosen to keep everyone at an arms length, but you defy.  I have the taste for blood, but I am not a hunter.  Easily distracted by too many details.  My faith in patience wanes.  I will fill my head with worst case scenarios that dominate. Something is broken now.  The great disconnect that is my burden.  It creates a void that threatens my resolve.


We Have Lost Our Will (2008)



Questions To Root Out Fools (2008)


My fear has a stronger resolve than my will.  Inconsistent.  And makes me out to be uneasy and erratic in fact.   But in the abstract, that is where the art is.  The milk I know that I should be trading in for meat.  The big picture accused of being conspired by men.  Where the word of god was a casting call for those of like fears of change.  I trained with fools and watched simple questions root out the foolishness in myself.  It lead to no acceptable end.  Only more lies.  My will has a stronger resolve than my fear.  It’s been called a venom that’s poisoned friendships that should have shaped my new life.  In truth it discerns the bullies from the bullshit, teachers from the tools.  Either way it is messy and destroys the will.  Do not tell me that you love me: it’s a lie that you do not have the stomach to see through.  Just stop.


By What We Refuse (2008)


The world was undone.  We were beasts running rampant.  Our lust was in our mouths with the law to justify its purpose.  We had our own ideas of what righteous was and we staged it in all of our minds.  It was dishonest and a little bit cheap, but it made the way for our war anthems.  Our love was weaker, so we drew from our hate.  It’s all we had.  We could fight our foes if we became the beasts that we claimed to slay.  Ignore the strings.  We had created a new law, and no one forced our hands.  You were replaced by our needs.  We bought our righteousness with what we had refused.  Like all laws…Fail or flee.  I failed the law.


Dead is Dead (2008)


It was demanded that we wholly submit ourselves.  For our grand ignorance, it proceeded us.  We could not be trusted at all to be guided to truth without their knowledge guiding the way.  We found an old role reborn and americanized.  Cold in its way.  What’s dead is dead.  I will not serve the law.  Dead is dead.


There is a Word Hidden in the Ground (2008)


There’s a word hidden in the ground as sure as my voice.  My travels in the past did very little to prepare me for today.  To dictate my hates and lusts, to form an anthem to incite that same reaction, it fell short.  Where trailblazers set forth a new rebellion, and cried like children when it came back home to deplete their fortunes.  We can not choose our effects without the risks.  We can’t pick and choose our mark on the world when we believe our own lies.  I found worth in words that were not mine.  I seek a path to be content with my failures in the works, and my journey.  I’ve been a dead man before, in spirit and in flesh.  In both cases my will is not what saved me.


On Their Behalf (1995)

Desperation, you’ve tempted me on too many times for me to
turn my back on you again. I lust for your
gift to ease the pain for us all.
Accept the fact
that their death can prevent our fears. Not the plot
of cowardice, but the birth of a saviour. Acceptance
of a martyr’s role.
Extricate these demons from
sight. Risking life and limb. Vigil martyr, set
the foundation of tolerance at any extreme. Even the price
of suicide. Even a
price so high as this. The seas
of love must part to act on their behalf. For
while we weep, they still rape, raping our patience for
change. Off the hook for feigned insanity, but not
off the hook from the public. In the media and
in the flesh, a crucifixion will be in order, a
celebration of politically correct’s death. We will
dance with our children once again. Their security
is reinstated by this bastard’s sacrifice.


The Harvest Of Maturity (1995)

I’ve met that point in my life. Want came to need.
Burn these fields of corn, that surround. My harvest
gone at the price of maturity. But these remains
I’ve left to rot will be resurrected again and again
by the next generation of children who want to change
minds with the stain on hand. But, it’s deeper than
this, I’m not the only one who sees, it lies in
diversity; acceptance to a degree, only to a degree.
The fire that once occupied my eyes has spread to
destroy this world I have grown. You have nothing
new to scream beyond your fields and not a second of
patience to learn from me the same. This time I
harvest the crops of my past. As far as the demigods
are concerned, I’ve sold myself out just the same.
I’ve burned bridges to feign brothers. Brothers of
nothing more than a simple label. So now, I’m in
control after all, for myself I prove I still am. But
within these fields, they’ll say I never was.


73-C (1996)


Rape this identity, for you canvas. Hatred and misconception, your mediums.
You paint credibility away. Mark I may, but stained, I’m not.
In a rage of green venom is spat. To uphold what order?
P.C. mentality, come belittle me. The only barrier to compassion,
the one that you uphold. Politics on a kindergarten level.
Expression has no place here. Indignities.
I have no grasp on this. What wasn’t said.
If we blind our eyes the blood still runs red.
We possess nothing other than a lust for peace.
So now we are liable to learn from history. With human factor, learn we must.
Fear revolution. Violence, our most basic function.
Why should we hide from instinct if there is pain to end?
Self- proclaimed lovers. Would they condemn us the same?
What wasn’t said. If we deafen our ears, the screams still echo on.
If there is such a thing as content in apathy, then this you have achieved.
Desensitized consumers, veto these dollar votes.
Fear is no excuse, not anymore.


Grain of Salt (1996)


So shallow, not even an infant could drown within this compassion
but, I feel as if I’ve drowned just the same.
But rather from my ignorance that unconditional love might exist.
I forgot the numbness. I forgot the frustration that makes up my daily routine
of just getting by. I am just barely getting by emotionally.
Judgment. Disappointment. A lack of patience for me.
This is not security, but such a pretty package.
The guise is broken as the truth rears it’s ugly head unto me.
A drunken soul, I’m conscious again. I’ve weakened from my stupor
for the last time. So content caressed in rejection.
For it’s all that love has ever led to. Once again, the dying man
lays down the law for this peon. It’s his last grasp at control.
A control that he lost in infidelity…from today to you I’m dead
as an order accepting son. Your searching and searching,
but your family isn’t at the bottom of any bottle.
You’re smoking us away. You’re choking on your own.
No place to hide other than my tears. They still give me away.
Do all things end like this? Must all things end like this?
So shallow. I take everything with a grain of salt.


Simulcast (1995)

The embodiment of innocence stripped from her own
territory. America’s child has passed so close to
freedom. Now closest with her maker, the ten lifetimes
of terror were experienced by this frail body. Where
have our children gone? They are not to be found
amongst this tabloid filth over kill, an embarrassing
lack of responsibility, a vicious cycle of soap opera
drama pettiness. No known beginning and no end in
sight, this must be our darkest hour when gossip takes
priority over our young. Are we this shallow? Are we
this apathetic? Are we this bored? Prove me wrong. The
child is mine, now that she has been thrown away. The
interest is gone, so now the others suffer. They
suffer unto a grotesque attention span deficit
monster. They turned our play yards into graveyards.
So we cried every night for a week, squeezing as much
concern allowed between each sports update. You cried
every night for a week, yet I still mourn. Have you
forgotten their faces? Patience is a virtue I won’t
instate. I must see the faces of every abductee. I
must taste the pain. Remind me of our system
atrocities. Don’t let me forget. Don’t let me forget.
Why haven’t we drawn a line? Instead, we feed and
shelter them. We support the evil and pay their debts.
We’ve paid their debts. Why can’t we win?


A Safe Place (1996)

A salty fist in my chest. Please no explanation, its
your time to be angry now. Could I possibly be so
selfish as to take that away? To compare myself. I’m
so miserably pathetic and helpless again. I’m so
little lying next to you, in this cold sweat of
mine. My sympathizing, however honest, still a
belittlement. I can’t heal a thing. What god is
responsible. I can only hold your hand. Live.
Dehydrated, nothing pacified. You can disassociate
yourself. Tools of your trade, survival. It’s the only
safe place left anymore. But can you tell me, are
you here now? Is my touch touching you, or that tool
of yours? I saved all the debt for you, you’re
still in debt. You’re broken wings I have taken on to mend
and right now I’d do the same onto you if it would
change a thing. If I could cripple your mind again.
If it were my place. Grant her the wings, grant her
the gift to cope. You leave her no choice than to
steal her birthright. Children don’t cry
tears of guilt for the sins of their predators.


Blend as well (1996)

What makes you think you deserve the sentiment of my
truth? You should expect me to be so honest. I owe you
nothing, no blueprints for growth. I can barely
begin to tackle myself. A friend is a foreign term,
good, better, best, intangible. Please, one at a time.
It’s all they can handle. Please let me blend as
well. It’s always too much. Cower at the
repercussions of honesty. It means nothing yet still
the world hanging on every word. Violence is no
motive to communicate. Come unto me in all your
glory. All consuming in this childish pride. Your
blows so soothing. Is this proof? This does not
cancel any options. Broken idols, so comical. I won’t
accept anything less than absence of prostituted


Have Patience (1997)


I come from rock that came from nothing. I come from
dead to copulate and condescend. So here I scream in
coincidence, and there you listen without hearing a
word. Still it took me a year to hear a thing. Have
patience as the combination waits to form one ounce of
trust, and your faith the same. I came from dead to
copulate and condescend. I’ll have them all. By law I
am not worth more than they. So I’ll spawn a fortune.
I’ll spin the web for the last impostor as it prepares
to make it’s way. Am I not worth more than he they
ask. And Darwin gave you the science to use bigotry
and come off scholarly. Every word you spend on rights
is erased by your simple concept. Every word is
contradicted by your own teaching. Who is more
evolved? One man to what? So which is it, who’s the
one? Who is the one? You’ve justified superiority over
others who live in the flesh. I am nothing of this. I
take my brother in hand and see through this as anyone
with faith does. I can only die in the flesh. I am
nothing of this. I come from rock that came from
nothing. I come from dead to copulate and condescend.
So here I scream in coincidence, and there you listen
without hearing a word. Have patience.


One On The Ground (1997)


She’s got one foot on the ground. That’s one more than
before her day. Just crawl back and swallow your pride
like so many pills before this. Girl speak you must
know something more. I know that you must feel
something for your presence is coming chilly. Your
motions sadly sober now. Please let yourself cry.
Prove your miserable existence and I’ll believe. I’ll
confess my sin. Choking on the manipulation of
another. Roaming on the plane of no bother. The child
spoke the truth. “I can’t believe I’m dead.” So why
bother us now. You knew everything except the price of
haste, so hold your breath to hold his hand. I’m here
so where are you? Everything was lost overhead. Above
the mantle in the depression. Not a single memory to
burn in this betrayal. At least nothing that I can
reach. I am still standing, still staring at your
child rolling, playing in your husband’s stain. Would
you make a token for your son of what’s left of his
teeth pried from the plaster. If he found the weakness
to surrender to pain, can you find the strength to
search for him. I am here so where are you. I am still
here and I need you.


Cut To Length (1997)


Doomed plans of safety surface between showcases of
failed poetry. Your bullshit liberal declaration of
pedophile immunity. Yet you wear it like a badge of
wealth. One more ribbon, one more guilt trip. Still
you would give them one more chance and damn those
whores for carelessness. Come with your declaration.
Cut the length and choose your mount. I’ll wet the
appetite for change. I’ll feast on them for a while.
Statistic after sick statistic. Only your success is
more pathetic. Take the rape and push it in until
you’re raw to any comfort. Eaten out hollow he feasts.
He smiles with her on his breath. She can no longer
feel it tear. She can no longer push her self to
breath. Yet you wear it like a badge of wealth. One
more ribbon, one more guilt trip. Still you would let
those bastards live and damn those whores for
carelessness. Come with your legislation. Cut the
length and give them rope. I’ll wet the appetite for
change. I’ll feast on them for a while. Verdict after
unjust verdict. Only your success is more twisted.
Take the rape and pull it out. Until you’re raw to any
comfort. Eaten out hollow still bound. A smile never
passed her lips. She’s tore to her navel. His sick
idea of growing pains. Yet you wear it like a badge of
wealth. One more ribbon, one more guilt trip. Still
you would let those bastards free and damn those
whores for carelessness. Come with your empathy. Cut
to length and kick them down.


For All You Are (1997)


glance to break you away from her. A bond you
sanctioned by sound and honored with a lack of
penetration. Eating Daisies and licking roses, the
bitter fruits of bickering politicians. And there he
stood a model of perfection. Careless and fit with
contempt for me. Could you predict this before you.
Did you fall to your knees in guilt. Could you fake a
single tear to tide over his want of righteousness.
What would it take? Time to sort out your mind still
crippled by deviance? Take it off and show yourself. I
touch not out of want or need. I haven’t the taste for
bitterness. I touch nothing for it’s all you are.
There’s that thought again. There’s no one here but
you and me. No one needs to know a thing. It’s a done
deal, I’ll slip in. What happens on the road. Will
stay on the road. Don’t think less of me, I’m just a
man with needs. I won’t tell you twice to get out of
my head and stay awake behind locked doors. And there
she stood a model of temptation. Again, wet and
willing with no faith in me. Still I passed your
twisted test whether in the flesh or in my dreams. Get
out of my head and stay awake behind closed doors.
Come not with me to correct and condemn. Get out of my
bed and stay awake.


Still It Sells (1997)


Nothing ever came so easy as the manipulation of her
word. Cold and humiliated, I tried to portray this
mess. I should fear it. I should give it all to them
and be done with it. I fear he maybe found a use. A
meaning or comprehension. Some sort of new birth or
late coming death. Who’s eyes will govern this
judgment? It’s just not my place to judge who tried or
to condemn who cried. I want to be her. I want all of
the answers. A crusty and scratchy mess shielded only
by burlap and the satisfaction of knowing. But I know
nothing. I am the impostor. The fake bastard holding
on to dreams. I want all the answers. I won’t wince at
each neck’s snap nor help at the hint of hope, I’ll
just lie here wet and willing to provoke you. Still no
closure. Cold is so damn trite and evil was never
glamorous. Still it sells so fucking buy it as
politics mean nothing now. As it’s already in their
heads. In their hands it resides a mark. So I leave
mine as well to finally be picked apart. Dissected and
forgotten. Ignored at best. But it’s still a mark. She
gave me rope and I climb.


Chain Smoking (1997)


Fairy tales of fire. More trials of strength and
tribulations that mean life or death for us all here.
You are boring me. Solutions not emotion. Emotion not
declarations. I’m repeating nothing. I’m caring not.
Save the tired cliche’s for the already converted.
Poetic licenses have been severely strained. Kill that
albatross for it’s not of truth. It speaks of eternal
life without sacrifice. Kill that fucker there’s no
wrath to follow. It’s godless and it’s incoherent. And
it’s still in the flesh. I can not see it one
commitment linking revolving worlds. And that’s all
you are, a politician. Too much grey stop it , there’s
too much. No cut and dry truth to be had. Black and
white’s long been nonexistent, so I part my way. Kill
that fucker, there’s no wrath to follow. It’s godless,
it’s incoherent and it’s in the flesh. Kill it. So
what is the point anyway? You do not give a fuck about
people and god takes care of his own. Let’s drag them
into the streets. Death to all carnivores and
vivisectors, and don’t stop there. don’t stop with
names like fag and nigger. By your own word we are all
gods and everyone anyone might think undesirable
deserves death. Sin doesn’t exist anymore, we are
merely animals. Kill the albatross for it’s not of
truth. It speaks of eternal life without sacrifice.
Kill that fucker there’s no wrath to follow. It’s
godless and it’s incoherent. And it’s still in the
flesh. I can not see it one commitment linking
revolving worlds. So I part my way. She’ll shake
herself free of us soon enough and nothing will have
mattered. He’s coming a second time, one last time
then it’s just a matter of how long it will be before
we are considered a find. Another artifact in the dips
and rises of civilization. But still it has turned
into a commodity and I listened to you. Every last one
and still I ate it all. I believed it all, now I just
hate it all. I’ve never been so conceited to think
that our fate doesn’t lie in god. So ask me again if I
care. I’m not for sale but I’m still coming after you
and I am collecting.


Did It Pay The Rent (1997)


Did it pay the rent? Did it bring her back? Did it win
the race? Was it worth the price of becoming his
whore? And her yours but you just wanted her back. She
is yours. She was only on loan. America forgot her
face. But we sure as hell didn’t forget yours. We did
not win, but time is money and money is power. We did
not win just like he planned so move along. So it’s
true. He did do her just like daddy did. With
deception in his pocket. He sold her. I’m the victim
here. I’ve got this tragedy. I’m the victim here. I’ve
got political power. You disgraced her memory one last
time. And ten strikes for the one who told us all to
fuck off. So what does it matter? You are still a
bitter tool in bed with him, a tired whore. I’m the
victim here. I’m getting paid. I’m the victim here.
I’m collecting. A celebration of politically correct’s
rebirth. A new liberal celebrity to save us all from
ourselves and lead us to right. A CELEBRATION OF


Every Reason To (1997)


I’ve never since felt life as dry as it was inside
you. I’ve tasted plenty and it only made me gag. I
wanted more. Now I have it all, without you. If I
could have only left without that thought. I would
have left with him. And you a childless wreck. I would
have taken it upon myself to leave you strapped with
the burden of unclear thinking. That’s what you do
best, you’re always thinking and not acting
rationally. You just needed someone to love you. God
know I don’t. I never did so disappear. You gave me
every reason to and still I didn’t break your face in.
so where’s my son and where’s your scars? Do you still
limp from my fist fucking fetish? And my midnight
naked messages in your ears? So why didn’t they come?
Why wasn’t she born? I would have taken her right from
underneath you. She would call you mother, I would
call you host, and you would just call on every lie
you could to feel just and sane. Keep your word. How
little do I really understand? I knew enough not to
touch you there. I should have saved myself for the
last but still I broke in the beginning and broke your
hold in the end. And on you went barren and content.
And I the other direction experienced in nothing


I Am Not The First (1997)




This Is The Last (1997)


My throat falls numb from the endless execution of
contempt’s song. It fails to follow suit in silence
even now. I can hear every word. Leave this place. If
only you could just be half as hateful if only I could
still take you with a grain of salt I could fake some
respect and hide the pity. For what I once feared is
now somehow down on my level. I never claimed to see
through another’s eyes. I could never inflict such
abuse upon myself honestly. Honest in a sense that I’m
willing, but such intensity is dulled with age.
Leaving me some spoiled child. I’ll take it in stride,
with every cheep shot landed. I took it without
crying. Now shut the fuck up. I’ve always sang the
cowards song. I’ve never claimed to be, anything but.
Like father like son. We’ll find an easy way I’ll fly
so high, to no longer hear the hisses of hatred
ringing in my head. Selfishly sober in spite of you.
I’ll never be the man to which you compare me.
Selfishly sober in spite of them. You boast I’m dead
to you and I in turn agree. I turned a deaf ear on
you, I knew the rest. Sob stories were never my strong
suit. Now just as threatening as I’ll let you be. I
keep a short rope, and a shorter fuse. For the one who
love’s who? I won’t leave this place. So boast I’m
dead to you, with dying breath. I can’t hear a thing.
I never could. Fuck your apologies. I’ve tolerated
your last death threat. I don’t condone the likes of
anyone so keep your word and consider me dead…to


I Took A Year (1997)


I never considered that. I chose to stay numb over
tears. I forgot myself to keep momentum. I took a year
and stretched it ten fold. But today I live, I live it
down. With both eyes just now reawakening. Still soar
and sober. Still sober for no reason. I have every
reason. I can be just as addictive as the next so take
care of me. I am your responsibility. You wanted to
change it all so start with an infant. Is this it?
Have you given it to me? Is this the meaning? Have you
forced it upon me or am I hanging myself needlessly?
Damn your riddles stop speaking in tongues. Let me
hear t, let me feel it across my face if need be.
You’ve given it all still I want even more. Sober
expression. Numb in motive. Take even more. Damn your
riddles. They change nothing. I will stand back and
take it all in. I am still myself. I’m still intact.
Just let me rest. Just let me rest. Just let me go.
Yesterday I was left just like before and again every
night after. Now I can accept the common them in
unconsciousness. Temptation’s only a word now with no
potential of a body. No is not so hard. I’m the one to
leave of an honest will. Confidence can no longer be
stolen under the table. Me.


You Can’t Kill Us All (1998)


What more do you want from me? Some sort of apology?
Well I promise that forgiveness is the most you’ll
get. And what I demand of you is to put up or shut up.
So make your decision, but remember – you can’t kill
us all. I know you don’t know what you say but I don’t
feel any safer from you. Hate is too easy and we’ll
both find a way to be right. No matter how far a
stretch. And even now I’ve all but forgotten what
we’re fighting for. To end something or to begin it? I
don’t even know why I care to continue. Old habits die
hard I guess. But we don’t. And the threats are still
made. I’ll kill you. Even though turning away seems
safer. I want to be in the middle. I want to go for
the jugular, but I don’t remember why. Was it to start
something or to end it? I know why I continue. I do it
all for them. For her I can be an influence and for
them a backbone. To end the old and begin a new age of
compromise and clear thinking.


Reoccurring Ache Of (1998)




New Language (1998)


“I run with the pack, with every freedom. I am god,
selfishness embodied strong enough to build this
mountain. A barrier you’re cowardly to call by it’s
proper name.” I am a man who screams aloud as for I am
nothing, humility exercised honest enough to humble
any man who seeks peace. And I call it by its name.
“jealousy” It turns the kindest of men green with rage
and eats them from inside. I’ve climbed your mountain
and found it to be no more than a mole hill compared
to the hate you harbor for christ. I’d call it by it’s
name if it had one. Rebellion against faith based on
it’s failed followers. A rotting fool tied upon our
necks that carry the blood of the crusades and the
misunderstanding of homosexuality. Ammo, nothing but.
A different time and a different language for a
different people. Where morals were a foundation and
not controversial. I am a man who’s screamed for far
too long and near the end of his rope. .


My Love for Extremes (1998)


He took on a shade of green long ago. And many a fool
along the way have been lost to this. I know you can’t
afford to be wrong. And we can’t either. We want it
back. I can’t afford to lose you. But that’s not what
this is about. If love ever had a second name it’s
attachment. And if you had an ounce of common sense
you would be witness to this. but try your best not to
be of this world. Fly with the rest of your glassy
eyed angels. Straight to heaven gate and don’t forget
your spare change to horde and render useless. Gold
was always more valuable than bread in the stomachs of
the starving. And you dare say I’m godless (filthy)
less evolved, sure to be stuck in my rut. Well I say
you’re gutless. The first in line to be our rip off
artist. The first to change your name to push more
product. We finally got it back from the clutches of
absurdity. And our bond is measured by nothing. No
books, no rounds, no quotas, and certainly not by how
many units sold. I tell you krishna’s dead to me along
with my love for extremes. I tell you krishna’s dead!
So tell me to go to hell for all I care. Life without
love is no different. I’ve been there and it offered
no hope. Dead is dead.


On Being a Bastard (1998)


Farewell friend until tomorrow. Where you are still
nitpicking our diets and names. The potential is still
there yet it’s somehow unexpected. I’ll show you
courage if you show me responsibility. Something lost
long ago in trying to please everyone. In pleasing
ourselves. If it feels good it must be right. Right?
So what’s a child? A fetus or kink in sexual
revolution and what am I? A threat, a kink in
political consistency. More name games and more
personal choice. So where’s mine? Or are you to deal
me such luxuries. Call me what I am and mean every
word. Be prepared to take yours. You see you’re not
along. I’ll show you responsibility if you show me
reasoning. Something you never possessed. You always
coveted anger and vengeance. But for what? One less
bite, one less burden. I’m sick of being the bastard.
Keep your fight and know i’ll keep mine.


Measured In Gray (1998)


I’m listening but I can’t believe the arrogance I’m
constantly bombarded with. If I were a lazy man I
could swallow the debt you put us in. But now, I fear
that maybe I can’t roll with these punches. I don’t
want to be that man. Independence is all me have but
that’s now becoming a joke by your actions. I don’t
want to be that man who let it all go and found out
how sweet revenge really is. So sweet it consumed me
and pushed me toward crime. Oh, only if you put in the
hours I have to make this work. Put in the time I
think you want me to beg for what I work so hard for.
Simple independence. All I ever wanted was for
everyone to be content and safe. I won’t be that man.


Disgust For Details (1998)


If you leave me to be the outsider looking in, then I
am finally home. I have a name and it isn’t guilt.
That never moved me an inch. If common sense and
common decency aren’t enough then leave me behind and
consider yourself weeded out. If you have the taste
for guilt and feed on lies then leave me behind and
consider me sold out. And this sell out will keep
screaming with the voice to push you to violence.
Every word proof you can’t handle any different. Every
blow proof that you have no intentions of equality. If
you make decisions color-based and call that power
then leave me behind and I won’t say a word. I’ll just
wait until you kill yourselves over nothing but flesh
one thing’s sure to die. As political trends keep
coming, demanding godlessness. I’ll just continue
forward, my only intention all along. So look
somewhere else for revolution. My disgust for details
is nothing revolutionary


What Happens On The Road Always Comes Home (1999)


We all know why you are still hanging on to
this.Eitehr to Run away from your family or to be
something you can no longer be. I think maybe time has
caught up with you and it’s time to get your
priorities straight. And to take what you’ve learned
and pass it down. And those old men, they lied to us.
What happens on the road always comes home, and if it
didn’t, then there is no point other than narrowly
avoiding divorce three or so times a year. With no
life lived to show for it. Sometimes, I want to live
again, just like the kids I traveled with. Oh, so much
more to do, so much more to see. But, I think maybe
time has caught up with me. You see, when her eyes
light up, it all seems so trivial to ever leave again.
I will never leave again.


Cowards.Com (1999)


It’s all too typical how they forget their names when
they finally grow their balls. It’s all too typical
how these parents, they deal with threats and dare to
expect change anonymously. Where the hell do you think
you are? Dirty looks and guilt trips are useless on
us, they only work on your own kids. And you, you
Terry, you fall right in line with your “more gore”
and “more fuck” and attitude that everyone is a fake
but you. Well, fucker, you’re the fake! Busy fingers
on mental midgets from left to right, east to west.
It’s so damned easy to be you, it’s so easy to be a
coward with no name.


Burn Everything That Bears Our Name (1999)


If you still need to double check my work to make sure
you agree. If you need to sign an “X” before and after
every title before it’s relevant, then I’ve wasted six
years of my life on the simple notion that this was an
open forum. Then I’ve wasted six years. Burn them, if
your edge is so sharp it severs ties. Burn them, if
you’ve never been proud. Burn them all. Burn them, if
you’ve never been ashamed. Burn them. Burn them. Burn
them and be done with it. Burn them, if the music only
plays second stage. Burn them, if you’ve never been
scared. Burn them, if your edge is so sharp, it severs
ties. Burn them, if you’ve never been proud. Burn
them. Burn them. Burn them and be done with it. Burn
them. Burn them. Burn them and be done with it. And
none of us have all the answers, that’s the whole
point. Just the opinions that serve and piss off the
masses whether left, right, or right at home. .


While The Jackass Operation Spins Its Wheels (1999)


My very existance offends you and I love while you are
spinning your wheels I move straight ahead ten fold
with nothing more than a gut feeling to move. While
you’re spinning your wheels for a lousy name. I never
met anyone who tries as hard as you, you’re up all
night,learning the big words to come off strong. The
only ones you’re fooling are your so-called allies.
You live off them and call it a revolution. Well,
you’re a joke. and a lousy friend. You’re just another
p.c. jackass operation. Self-imposed poverty in a
squalor for bitching rights is embarrasing. But, you
kept it real cozy at home. So, send all mail bombs to
mom and make the whole family proud of just what he
teaches. You talk a square into a circle, but nothing
really changes. You have an out. Real people don’t,
real people don’t give a shit how you thikn they
should live.


Sometimes Selling Out Is Waking Up (1999)


We take ourselves too seriously. We sneak as may
politics as we can. But, who will be the last to
realize that sometimes selling out is waking up? So,
here we are, two different walks of life crossed once
before. And, it still takes a thousand miles to
co-exist. We are the same, just trying to exist. If
rewritten pamphlets is the best clarity can provide,
then you need one (a drink) worse than me. Being
delusional, well, that’s a whole new bag and it’s
fine. It’s fine with everyone until you touch them.
(nothing is said no matter how angry or impassioned it
may seem) and when they finally had enough, they
leave. They leave in fear. Your legacy will forever be
self-righteous and violence against your own. Against
your own. They can candy-coat their hardline roots all
they want, but, I’ve seen the tapes. Don’t ever let
those clowns define you. We take ourselves too
seriously. We never leave our politics at home and
just live. There will always be some struggle. Well,
sometimes selling out is waking up.


Where The Hell Is Rick Thorne These Days? (1999)


Where the hell is Rick Thorne anyway? It must be five
or so years sicne I’ve heard a good story. Very few
are those that can back up the big talk. But you see,
Rick, he never talked, he just left us in the dust.
There are always those to bitch about the status quo,
but he just blended in and tore it down from the
inside. And made all of you whiny bitches look like
fools. They’re made of brass, son. Growing up young
with the idea to never give up, I always challenged
that and he burned me. He burned me, don’t you ever
give up. I bet the photo of that fat kid is still in
you. With the story of wanting to be told to another
brat just like me. I never stopped thinking about how
much you overcame with a simple “fuck you.” A focus on
just exactly what you wanted to be. I hope my kids
know someone just like you.


Jesus In The Year 2000 / Next On The Shit List (1999)


Out of the way, John’s coming through and you’re next
on the shit list. In memory of the man, who taught me
how to live. When the chips were down, and the barrel
was loaded. Oh, John. Master (peace brick) theif. How
can we ever forget you? Everything we did you did
bigger. And you could bring the kid out of anyone of
us. And I will never understand what you thought you
were doing. You didn’t have to go out like that, John.
You didn’t have to do that. We love you.


Counting Murders, Drinking Beers (The $46,000 Escape)(1999)


I’m getting out while I can still count these murders
on only one hand. I’m throught looking after you,
second guessing your next move. Lock the doors, turn
out the lights. The Wolves are out tonight. Playing
that shitty bass. So, you get your kicks using my
daughter and my wife as target practice? Well, how do
you like that shaft straight up your ass? And I’ll
damn you right in your tongue. You have used that
grinning “no english” crap for the last time on me.
And, since when a shot of paint elevate the classes?
You run around real cute with your rainbows, like we
dont know. Like we care. So, look away when you see
me, just look away. It never ends for me. Like it the
fourth neverending. Yeah, you’re real brave roughing
this. Until you have children of your own. There is no
pride in these chances.


They Always Come In Fall (1999)




Blue Collar Lullaby (2002)

As long as there is still breath
Left in your body, friend
Just move
You’ll sleep some other day
Some other time
Some other place
Just pray that your hands don’t break
We walk with hard hearts and sharper tongues
The price we paid
Paid in strength.
(Have some faith in me)


Son of Son of Man (2007)


Old Ghosts, those regrets find new homes in ones and zeroes
and they haunt me to this day.
Counteracting any revelation that my travels have revealed
nothing more than a joke.
With nothing more than more cheap jokes.
There was a whole lot of life to live before all those lives became
more than just a string of lies.
To feed our appetite.
Son of Son of Man and the ironic sarcastic refute.
Son of Son of Man and the testament of all thoughts little.
It dulls the spark begging all who dare dream back into denial
where so called “legends” drive mini vans and forgot
they could break and bleed
on the god damned floor and never feel so damn alive.
This, this life, this string of attempts to undermine your love.
To make it no more than a commodity, laughable at best.
Son of Son of Man, do your worst, do worse than me.
We’ll talk down the road.
Life as commerce is an unforgiving master
and lust is a bitch of a mistress.
Drifting in and out back and forth only by the strength of addiction.
And even now sucking the salt out of every word.
damnit, come on.
Prove me a fool, prove to me this is more than milk toast
attempts at easing our minds.
Numbing our drive for something that’s more.
More than ourselves.
More easily digested bites
More than something I could deliver.

I Am This (2007)

“That is then, this is now”, that old anthem
I find that my heart demands.
So where are we to go, what is the purpose if we are above all of this.
Oh if we are dead to this, to the world at arms, if we are not liars.
I would just keep lying.
Move with the means you have possible
or find yourself lost in all your words.
I’m dead to the love of the pitch, and to the word that which has given me life.
Oh if we are dead to this, to the world at arms, if we are not liars.
I was
Lacking compassion
Quick to Violence
Slow to forgiveness
Failing my Children
Lying through my teeth
Dead in my own skin
I will just keep moving.
I am
Fallen short of grace
Ready for this fight
Done with a numb heart
Done with a dull tongue
Done with all my fears
Done will all yours the same.
Nothing more
I am this.
Here is the salt and the light
that I long to taste without my flesh in tow.
I am this.



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