Humble Mumblings

And if even “The Greats” were just mere regular,

idiosyncratic – day to day observers of society;

Loud muses that mused nonsense – out of boredom,

stress relief, simple idiotic entertainment –

What of me then? My so called art – ponderings

of a directionless point becoming less with each …

*Sigh* … It’s insane enough I talk out loud to myself,

God help me when I actually take time to write down

the humble mumblings of my inner muse.

I’m easily amused, taking advantage of space and time,

making rhymes – poetry is as poetry does, line for line.

Poetry is like life – random and chaotic,

occasionally coming together beautifully in wondrous ways.

Poetry is life.

The best lines obtained through years of disillusionment and pain.

The never ending struggle to fight; Finnish the race!

The journey, discovery and utilization of what it  means to not just live – but to actually feel connected to your being;

That is living.

… That is poetry…

Die-sect

At the center of the equation,

the ultimate variable that changes;

The “in between” that will always be “in between”?

 

If I used numbers for letters to solve problems,

would I still be a genius in my own mind?

Or would I still be a mad man, lost in his own ‘verse,

staged before the common junkie, to be ridiculed?

 

I’m no mathematician: An artist of the language,

maybe once or twice – then the parasites started talking

by squirming violently; They will never tell you personally,

but they are not happy.

 

I really don’t know  how they got in my head,

They must of entered in my ear,

cause with out uttering a word, I hear… everything I dread,

 

Oh the time is coming,

Everything is building up,

the gears are winding and winding!

Something is going to… snap…

 

I’m still at an impasse; X trying to balance wh-Y-at.

If you need an angels dead hand,

reach for my finger tips – they’re in the jar next to my jaw.

 

 

Xiphos

I will hold a hand up, to den -y the apple of my eye.

Pins and needles, in my heart and arms,

trying to impress the lifeless & loveless, only she can disarm,

these bomb exploding in my brain,

drain the poison from my veins.

Give me mouth to mouth, taste my purity.

I can’t save you, but you could save me.

Just keep clutching my sides, exceedingly,

arms wrapped tightly – and tightening,

as our tongues do the talking –

I hear the world burning – and couldn’t care,

caress your face and hair,

Past the layers – lips moist, quivering and bare,

dripping the cure over curled fingers…

An Angels whispered voice lingers…

Suck my neck, my minute to minute, midnight lover,

Eye, Dan -i, eye, … bye bye.

 

 

Space Potatoes

Couch potatoes, awaiting the mother-ship.

Though surrounded by them, all they needed was a friend.

One chance to not be forgotten, to be remembered beyond the ends of the earth,

one chance to finally prove their worth.

But reality stares them down with an evil grin,

They ceased  to be and brought the very scary truth.

As fire falls from the roof, truth goblins dance to and fro in the blaze,

taunting, “we dare you to pass the days.”

That there in, is only if you could be fortunate enough to gaze upon,

the truth through the smoke filtered haze.

The empty haze that swirls with flirtations of death and love;

A moment to catch your gaze, and make you wonder what tomorrow brings.

But with every glance, you may see a  thought, so despising your brain shall sing,

“Today we are but couch potatoes awaiting the mother-ship.”

 

Written by Danny and Ron, July 18th, 2017. 

Con-vill

The world is a con,
Silently they come down,
You’re long gone,
A part of my frown.

The whisper in the breeze,
The doubt in the eyes,
The saucer light above the trees,
Watch me die.

Nothing matters anymore…
Nothing matters anymore…
Open Hades, open the door…

Push me over the edge,
Bring my hate to a boil,
Remember what I said…
Wrap my eyes in foil.

Insidious

Rising from the depths of my soul,

The madness of a thousand memories,

The repressed violent outbusrts,

Manfesting their own voice and personality,

And now theyre all screaming inside of me!
We’ve sold the lie,

For the small price

Of my sanity.

I guess my doctor was right

Ill never fit into society.
Infact I might as well play the part,

Keep in mind as you verbally judge me, 

I could easily stop holding back and let my dark side rip you apart.

Im too smart, to fall apart,

For the satisfaction of the faction of ignorant invalids

Spewing mindless shit, without batting an eyelid.
I feel my inner demons twitch and I feel the itch,

To carve you up and make the onlookers sick.

Youre too old and slow, and my minds to quick,

Ill let this slight slip, but next time you best get a grip quick,

Or else,
Or else!

Ill realease my demons and give you the reality check

A small minded, white picket fence – normal life dunce

Should get! Ill sever your ties to what you call reality,
Youll be one to regret,

One to never ever forget,

What it means to lean 

Face to face with a man,

Whos mastered mean.


Bones

I brought the shovel,

Hope you brought your stomach,

Cause were digging up skeletons,

Till the sun comes up…

And its a long way till dawn,

And we got a long way to dig,

And the deeper we go,

The bigger the demons were forced to face!

We may not make it till morning,

But for what its worth I gave you warning,

Just keep that lantern burning,

And for what its worth, dont stop digging!

We’re digging til dawn,

Digging until every secerte is revealed,

As bare as a dead mans bones.