Tag Archives: psyche

Cheap Cancer For Exclusive Humanity

Oh, give me a break you deluded, ill-informed, self-serving prick
If you really believe in the words that you preach
Get off your screens, and onto the streets
There will be no peaceful revolution! No war without blood!
You can say I’m just a fool, that stands for nothing!

~*~

It’s a mindless transaction

For the ones in creation

They think you’ll warm the cold

But everyone wants to change the world

It’s questionable

Everyone’s too cynical

And too miserable

And too in love with the concept

To change for respect

But don’t you love the drama?

The little girls filled with paranoia?

The boys injecting heroin

A systematic failure of clever machines

No one’s wide awake

We’re all sleepwalking on a tightrope

With bloodshot eyes shut

Pretending to believe in hope

But while we’ll all here

Where nothing’s transparent or clear

Let’s swallow reality’s bullshit

And make the most out of it

The sweet melodrama

The crippling asthenia

The jerks in your bed

All the cunts you wish dead

Let them sing

Let them sing

Let them sing…

You couldn’t do a goddamn thing!

.

We’re all too fucked to care

Busy with what to wear

If their makeup is on straight

Or if the bastards are staying up late

Corrupted bodies

Lying in wasteland sceneries

As drunk as blowflies

As sober as their endless lies

And the sun won’t stay

To witness their rapid decay

Hallelujah, baby

You won’t live to see another day!

It’s an arrogant escape

We’re selfishly murdering for our sake

But we succumb and give in

Just to drown in our sins

To the ways of the crooked

The drink of the dead

Surrender the blood on your hands

No one will understand

The happiness

That don’t exist

We’re all a mess

We’re fucking sick

We’re falling in sin

We’re falling in sin

We’re falling in sin…

You couldn’t do a goddamn thing!

.

So go the fuck to hell

I’ll be there soon in fifteen

Angels don’t live to tell the tale

Of the genocide scene

Humanity be damned to heaven

We all cheat and say it’s even

Nothing is fucking fair

Burn in the fires of disrepair

Shadows come to whisper

Your demise in a bruise and blister

I’m waiting for the finale

The asylum’s about to go crazy

It’s almost blandly pathetic

This modern-age love is synthetic

But this disease and chaotic

Sounds grotesquely symphonic

A perfectly flawed design

To steal what can never be mine

And if this is what eternity is

Then paradise must reek of shit and piss!

The cheap mentality

Of human rationality

We’re all so sedentary

You ain’t so special, honey

The walls are caving in

The walls are caving in

This world is caving in…

But fucking shut up and give in

Bitch, you couldn’t do a goddamn thing!

(Shit.)

~*~

United, we’ll fail, divided, we’ll fall, united, we’ll fail
We’re fucked, but you’re making it worse!
Middle fingers up, if you don’t give a fuck!
I’m sick to death of swallowing every single thing I’m fed
Middle fingers up, if you don’t give a fuck!
You think you’re changing anything?
Question everything!

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Filed under Poetry

Midnight Oil: A Pantoum

(A first attempt at creating a pantoum.)

~*~

The midnight oil burns even darker

The battered quill in quick rotation

He struggles for sense, the weary writer

Wishing to create a sweet affectation

.

The battered quill in quick rotation

Ink blotted and sombre words spilled

Wishing to create a sweet affectation

Seeds of imagination planted and tilled

.

Ink blotted and sombre words spilled

And his lost sanity slips even further

Seeds of imagination planted and tilled

But he overdosed on madness and fertiliser

.

And his lost sanity slips even further

He struggles for sense, the weary writer

But he overdosed on madness and fertiliser

The midnight oil burns even darker.

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Filed under Fixed Poetry, Poetry

Cafe Culaccino

Culacinno: noun; an Italian word describing the mark left on a surface by a cold glass.

~*~

In front of me, a brown-tinted awakening potion

Stirring; very slightly, occasionally.

Thick curls of steam, a warm devotion

And a single cube of sugar melting; slowly.

.

Time ticks by. People hastily rush off.

And yet somehow I’m frozen. So mesmerising,

The whirls of kaleidoscopic patterns are

Forming on the surface; so hypnotising.

.

A slight bump causes my trance to snap

Somebody accidentally spilled their cup

Midday scuffle, but simply breaks even

As the hand points its way on the number eleven

.

I return to my coffee, in the cush table I’m alone

By the window, society functioning, passersby on their phone

Nullified existences. Nearly industrial.

Lives of survival, technology and metal.

.

Time’s up. I sip the remaining scalding liquid down

Grab my hat and my case and head off to town

All that remains, a wispy ghost of my visit

A perfectly round mark on the wooden table, a cry of a soul in transit.

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Filed under Poetry