Tag Archives: generation

Doubt Is Failure By Design

We’re born to fuck everything up, I guess.

No one asked for this. I’m like a festering scar on the dysfunctional mind of a starving shark who mercilessly shoved me overboard, and my flailing limbs are weighed down with rocks and paralysed with guilt, with shameful culpability, with the handed-down heirloom of a cursed name—a mere letter and punctuation away from completely unpronounceable—come now, black sheep, where’s your fucking wool?

Absolutely deplorable. Every success-story sycophant resolutely cringes away as if touched by the devil’s acid itself, their gold-plated stomachs turning at the mere mention of us, rolling diamond eyes watering viciously at the sight of our squalid hands reaching out to extinct stars and begging for a shred of respite, if any at all, overfed jesters laughing like relentless hyenas at the classic repertoire of victimised beggars choosing to be losers. No change. No mercy. Miserable. We asked for it, didn’t we?

I take a single step into the path I meticulously measured before finally deeming to be correct, and end up breaking somebody’s weak spine instead; clumsy foot easily slicing through vertebrae like a sharpened sword through snowfall. Another mistake. Another cautionary tale. I hear my dead ancestors wail a steady plangent caterwaul, as they eternally scream and admonish me from beyond the depths of inferno and then perhaps some—from where I shall soon be sharing their fate as I join in with their ever-familiar sickly cries. Another generation. Another bad blood. It’s almost comforting, now.

Oh, well. We fucking saw it coming and let it happen anyway, didn’t we?

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Filed under Prose

Crash and Burn

We always seem to find
A way to fuck things up
At the worst time, you know
We’ve never been the smartest
You know you could have anyone
But standing on the edge I said
I don’t want no one else…

~*~

Hey there, let’s crash and burn

This damn night is too old for the both of us

To take into consideration alive

But these stupid games are about to begin

So why don’t you pick a losing side?

Too young to die, too insane to change

Ain’t that what this city needs?

They say we’re wrong, but we’ll show them

We are the vagabonds that will lead

We’re too reckless, putting it all on the line

If there’s anything we can’t get, hell it’s all mine

We’re the wreckage of the generation to come

Kids dancing on boulevards and playing with guns

These empty mouths are way too crass

But we ain’t nothing to be defeated by victorious

So let’s pick it up straight off the sidewalk

Get out of the way, these minds are about to talk

We’re idiots maybe, as smart as bricks

But we don’t stop to think about your bullshit

Let’s go three times and then we can do it again

I can’t spell fun but I can say when

Crazy honest laughter was always the remedy

For a life of missed targets and bad candy

In lady luck and boy bucks, inciting headache riots

Working heroes and nine to five we are not

Should we feel sorry? Should we care?

Let’s burn hotel buildings down if we dare

Should we simply change? Where does it all end?

Kill off the clock with wasted hours we spend

But our skins and bones were already corrupted

At an early age, our mindsets are polluted

With nothing but garbage dreams and ambitions of junk

So I say screw all this shit, let’s aim to flunk

Sorry mom and dad, I can’t stand on your shoulders

If all it does is make me fall and break as I’m feeling taller

Sorry to the ones who say we’re better off this way

What a shame for the good opportunities you can never take

So yeah, we’ve got a million things to gain if we get it right

But we’ll miss the addicting adrenaline and the thrill of the fight

We have nothing to lose, nothing to prove, but everything to have

And fucking things up has always been what we are good at.

~*~

They say it’s time to grow up
And stop with these foolish games
But I say they’re wrong
She says go, go, go!
I don’t want to take it slow
There’s plenty of time for us to finally get it right
Why don’t we crash and burn tonight?

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Filed under Poetry

Industrial Children

Cigarettes and ramen and a little bag of dope
I am the son of a bitch and Edgar Allan Poe
Raised in the city in a halo of lights
Product of war and fear that we’ve been victimised…

~*~

Industrial child born on milk and silk and honey

Adding further to the growing population tally

Upended on West Street, tales you’ve been told

Dad’s headlines are bold, but your oatmeal is cold

.

High on lucky charms, bye mummy and daddy

The grass is green and atmosphere baked sunny

Ice cream skies topped with sweet cherry bombs

Love felt on bulletdrops falling on your thumbs

.

After your late night shows and silver film reels

After your curious questions and political spiels

They tuck you in the bed with an open nightlight

Pray caution to monsters on your telly to fight

.

Lullaby and goodnight, to the grey stars of smog

Sing along to my song and repeat the bass drop

Doodle stars and stripes, draw your glory wings

Write a poem of death and all the bad bad things

.

Buy your perfect array of round candy stripes

Red on white pattern lush, like rotting parasites

Build your playhouse set of meanest machines

As you quench your thirst on cans of gasoline

.

Playground games held on nuclear powerhouses

Nuclear family and suburban rats and mouses

Paper planes shot down by the airforce strike

On the mountain of rubble you can take a hike

.

Taxes pay the price of freedom and sovereignty

Your balloons inflate and pop like the economy

Selling lemonade on a very busy cardboard street

As your competitors oblige your hapless defeat

.

Play with your iPhones, take a funny old selfie

Candies you crush, and your bitcoins wealthy

Gratuitous sales, mix and match your parents

Hashtag social posts and comment your caren’ts

.

Vote for democracy, take in their bland charm

Pigs festering noisily on a government farm

Kiss and tell, the check marks are welting red

Headless executions are good and all well-fed

.

Pet show of snarling dogs and cheeseburger cats

Layers upon bulky layers of humanity’s putrid fat

Insanity is your most and only decent memory

The acceptable norms for this normal society

.

Insalubrious snarks can taste so damned good

Like happy meals and creepy clown’s fast food

Virtual playmates will forever aid you, even daily

As company, so that you’re always never lonely

.

Education, get your mind and body tossed about

Disappointment, and the teacher whacks you out

Counting numbers of casualties, learn vocabulary

Words get shorter with age, lexicon’s dictionary

.

Learn your ABC’s to write horrible death threats

There’s a red light at the end fight, ready get set

Field trips to open massacres, see severed heads

Interview the victims who wish they were dead

.

Arrested bumblings, itchy suits, young weddings

Obsolete sayings and fast-fading trendy clothings

Swim on saline, sip sodas that taste like chloride

The summer’s hot, El Niño strikes, grab your bike

.

You only live once and die once, so take your pick

Hopscotch on minefields, break bones like sticks

Blow up like bombs on the longer Walmart queue

Run on sulphur streets and flower syringes’ hues

.

Replace your baby dolls with actual baby blue

Your soldiers with guns also have all come true

Earth’s an oyster, you’re the pearl trapped inside

Knock against ivory walls yet it’s still shut tight

.

But the little child won’t stay for long, innocence is never in fashion

Snuff out that childhood like your cigarette and let maturity festoon

Legally dumb, legally aged, legal legends, and legal lawsuits

Children grow up so fast, in order to escape this world’s vultures

.

Industrial child, conceived in a verdant world so rich and healthy

In an abundance of vicious violence and graphic images so wealthy

Industrial child, this is your own place, a personal golden revolution

Millennia of the ages they say, yet reality is a helpless problem with no solution.

~*~
I’m the patron saint of the denial
With an angel face and a taste for suicidal
Are you talking to me?
I’ll give you something to cry about
St. Jimmy!

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Filed under Poetry

Little Psycho

I get my kicks and I want to start a rager
I want to dance like I’m on the video
I got a fever for the violent behaviour
I’m sweating bullets like a modern Romeo…

~*~

Mummy’s little psycho, fears

Brought up inside a crib cage

Sustained by blood and tears

Fostered by loathing and rage

.

Daddy’s brave good soldier

Pulling quickly the soft trigger

Bang bang! His brain shatters

What a mess! Rusty splatters!

.

Pouring bleach down my throat

Cut the ropes of my own veins

Ha, what is love? What is hope?

Sharp knife to voice my disdain

.

Your dead brother with an axe

Every limbs have been hacked

He tripped, you explain sweetly

And we believe you, my dearie

.

A black hole in my coldest body

Where warm life had once been

Put some band-aid in it, baby

Here’s some whiskey to clean

.

Now dig that old grave deeper

For your dearly departed sister

Pins stick out of her burnt dolls

Needles stick out of her skull

.

Please set me free and let me be

Off this picture suburban family

It’s all too perfect, waste my time

And I’ll generate the perfect crime

.

Ignored, stored, and bored, so

I decided to play my own game

I’ll be this generation’s antihero

I’ll be a martyr feeding on fame

.

I’m mummy’s little psycho, gone

And I’m daddy’s brave good soldier

Though I have murdered everyone

At least now they’ll love me forever.

~*~

Bang Bang! Give me fame
Shoot me up to entertain
I am a semi-automatic lonely boy
You’re dead! I’m well fed
Give me death or give me head
Daddy’s little psycho and Mommy’s little soldier…

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Filed under Poetry