The Most Hurtful Game

Yonder the night breaks the silence,
Over the sullen mountaintops,
Under the pale, dead sky,
Losing the light beyond our grasp,
Our sweet solitude knows no bounds,
Singing sweetly into sanctity,
The light shall surely die,
Together we have nothing,
However, alone is mostly everything,
Even nothing itself,
Great minds once concurred,
Amidst all that can be considered,
Moreover, thou shall read,
Every first letter of each line.

Signs

As I awake from my sleep from morning to night

Awaking to the disappearing light

Dress up, groom down, and left to right

The ways I look when you’re in sight

Like feigning death in hostile land

I act, but the time is never at hand

I know it must be so hard to stand

Looking this way, toward your friend

Exchange greetings with dark despair

The face you give seems not to care

Act hurtful, peddle sexual wares

If not, just receive blank stares

Become a part of simple things

Sports and drinking, one night flings

Love attached to weakened strings

Act just like the scorpion’s sting

Obituary on page three

The picture on column one is me

I read the signs and from what I see

Death is the only way to be free.

Mistake

A mistake was made and it can’t be undone,
They don’t understand how it makes me feel,
To fail in friendship and other things right,
This broke the ultimate trust made of steel,
But even though that this was done,
One thing lingers in my brain,
Apparently I’m unable to handle my problems,
And more mistakes need to be made,
So why can I not try to make things right,
Why must you all interfere?
This is my problem and mine all alone,
I don’t want your help at this moment here,
So as you call me several names and such,
Snitch, liar, and backstabber most of all,
Just remember that I have my own plans,
And when it comes, I’ll answer the call,
If you can’t understand that these mistakes,
Were made to try to keep you all safe,
You don’t deserve my forgiveness or friendship,
And I hope you continue all of your hate.
So I leave you with a lonely message,
Ignore it if you please, burn it if you will,
The next time you try to chastise me for mistakes,
Then I’ll see you in the bottom of the well.

Black Holes

Feel the weight crushing from the inside out,
The weight of your judgment and all your doubts,
Music has no sound and food has no taste,
As you try to understand with more than just haste,
Your light walks away and leaves for another,
She was the one you hoped would mother,
Your children, your hopes, even your dreams,
Now she leaves you in squalor, with only your screams,
Your light is sucked into a black hole,
As life takes its vicious toll

A Favorite Quote

From the song “To Live Is To Die” by Metallica

“When a man lies, he murders some part of the world. These are the pale deaths which men miscall their lives. All this I cannot bear to witness any longer. Cannot the Kingdom of Salvation take me home?”

Out In The Cold

I have been left to die, cast asunder,
By the will of fate, to chase a lootless plunder,
I have achieved nothing, and now I am old,
I shall receive death, whilst out in the cold.

Nothing to console me, nothing to guide me,
I am the blind one, in the world that can see,
A hopeless quest, a story that might not be told,
Shall be reduced to nothing, out in the cold.

A future so bleak, and dark as the night,
The life of chaos, with no prevailing light,
I’ve thrown it away, most of it sold,
A sale I intended, to be out in the cold.

Now that I sit in the twilight of my life,
Thinking of every moment, of happiness and strife,
I hope you tell my story, if you would be so bold,
How I was abandoned, and left out in the cold.

Diary…

Day 1, I have arrived at this strange place,
Scratched the surface if you will, sorry,
I’m not used to keeping my thoughts,
But I feel that it’s my duty in these times,
There are no people , it’s empty here,
Just a white room with a window,
A curtained window looking to the sea,
An endless, beautiful blue sea, I’m tired.
Day 2, I almost didn’t write today,
That would’ve been bad for my duty,
I spent most of the day looking out,
That sea is still beautiful, so is the curtain,
I could look at it all day, I think I will,
I wonder how I got here, but then I look out,
There will be times to worry, but now is not.
Day 7, the first week is over, I’m bored.
Every now and then I’ll see a wave, grand,
I’m starting to become more self aware,
Why am I here? What did I do? How?
These questions won’t be answered by me.
Ugh, I’m starving. A meal of bread and water,
That’s what’s given to me consistently.
I think this is some sort of prison, but,
It’s too nice to be something so horrible.
Day 10, I heard a scream from outside.
It sounded like someone drowning. Oh God!
I can’t believe people die while I sit here,
Unable to do anything or so I think. Oh well.
These things happen, I just need not think.
Day 14, Two weeks. More drowning deaths.
They constantly scream for help, for someone.
I scream back, but not for their assistance.
I scream to perserve what is left of my sanity.
Something is happening, I hear them scream,
All day, all night, in my dreams, wide awake.
Someone please wake me from this nightmare.
Day 19, Another drowning victim, but this time,
This time he found his way to the shore. Thank God!
I couldn’t bear to see another one die. What?
Oh no! It seems I spoke too quickly. Alas,
The poor man died as he made it to the beach.
Must have been some kind of heart attack.
I cannot take this anymore, all this death,
Constantly I’m presented with it, with no means,
No means at all to obtain it myself. Only sleep.
Sleep. Yes, sleep shall be my escape.
Day 21, sleep was my escape, but it escapes me
I can’t sleep, I can only scream and hear screams,
The bread is stale and the water has become stagnant,
I will not eat nor drink this garbage,
That may be it, starve myself and the fatigue will set,
Allowing me that oh so heavenly sleep I’ve desired.
Day 24, because of my refusal to eat, they come,
Men in white coats, similar to executioner’s  robes,
They have bread and water, the same nasty provisions,
Let’s force feed our puppet. “No!” I scream.
I want death. They tell me relax, that death will,
Be along when the time is right for me.
They’re keeping me alive for something. I’m a rat.
A rat for their sick little experiment on me.
After choking on fake foods, I am returned.
Release will not be easily accomplished.
Day 29, one of the guards foolishly left a fork.
Right there with my food tray. I’ll show them.
Death will come for me. It shall be mine!
They’ve realized their mistake, they see me.
I will not let them take away what I desire.
Hello sweet dea–
Day 1, I’ve restarted my count. I lost track.
The guards struck me and I have been unconcious.
Release will never come to me, I shall be tormented,
The screams of the drowning victims, and my own screams,
Forever. Forever. Forever! Forever! Wait! The curtain…
A hanging death, not the most pleasant, but it fulfills my need…
Unknown day, My neck hurts, and I don’t know,
Anything. Where I am or what happened.
The sick thing is that I’m alive. My attempt has failed.
There’s a sick smell in the air, like fresh fish.
I’m on a raft, that’s falling apart. I am going to die.
I’ve been released from the torment of that room,
And now I’m being given the sweet death I’ve longed for.
In the distance I can see the room to which I was confined.
There’s someone inside screaming!

Democratic Ideals

In a world where vices are valued,
And evil reigns supreme,
Betrayal and lies, the inhuman surprise,
We live in an anarchist’s dream,
The sex, the drugs, the squalor and pain,
The life the public deems amiss,
To a person of evil, a villain of such,
This is absolute bliss,
They fight and they drink to their hearts content,
And once the night has gone,
They sleep all day to rest and awake,
For the midnight outing of fun,
The innocents pray and stay very close,
They pray to the deity they choose,
For the hope that one day, salvation comes,
And prevents the life that they lose,
Anarchy, abolishing of such government,
One where no one can agree,
Stems from one thing and one thing alone,
What we call democracy.

He Sits There

He sits there alone, everyone looking at him.
“How can he stay so calm in all this turmoil?”
Bullets fly, explosions, people die all around,
Nothing phases this example of stoicism.
The dying scream for his help, begging,
They bleed for his assistance and cry,
He sits there, he says and hears nothing.
Men come up and shove guns into his head,
Screaming at him, threats, gunshots, yells,
He sits there, oblivious to all that happens.
They’ve had enough, he must answer for this,
This blatant disrespect that he has shown,
With a triumphant thrust, they throw a blow,
His first reaction is his scream, then his death.
Alas, what joy it must be to be deaf.

Sanitarium: The True Victim

You run from your home,
Lock yourself in a room,
Put yourself in a place,
That spells our your doom,
Your sanity in question,
Personality to blame,
You fight the thoughts and visions,
Fight them all in shame,
A most peculiar reason,
That you have been locked up tight,
Something in your head, a thought,
You think is just not right,
You think of yourself as a prisoner,
But the treatment is sublime,
What they do not understand,
Is the prison is your mind,
War wages on with wild abandon,
In a vast killing field,
They inject you with drugs and hope,
To act as your only shield,
The torment, anguish, and pain that is here,
Will never cease to be,
The sickness consumes and kills you inside,
Snuffing every chance to be free,
They try to save you but try in vain,
For as much as they try today,
You’ve accepted your fate, the voices say,
It’s okay, you’ve passed away.