Tag Archives: society

Hey World, Why Don’t You Spin A Little Faster For Me?

‘Cause he gets up in the morning
And he goes to work at nine
And he comes back home at five-thirty
Gets the same train every time
‘Cause his world is built around punctuality
It never fails…

~*~

I feel so fucking useless.

The world is running at a breakneck speed and everyone around me is already growing up and moving at a steady pace, getting jobs, meeting new people, going to college, telling wild (well, for me at least, but I’m sure it’s as normal an experience as any person gets) stories that still invariably shock the living breathing manchild in me, and basically acting like an adult, very well on their way to becoming a mature and a fine-class clockwork citizen of this society, and I’m still sitting here, practically catatonic and stuck at home, jadedly counting the crimson hairs on my head before I rip them all off out of sheer frustration, and then repeating the cycle for hours at a time, for days at a time, for weeks at…well, you get the idea.

Hell, all of my friends are doing something decent with their lives, some of whom I haven’t talked to in a rather lengthier amount of time due to their busier affairs, and all I’ve ever done is waste oxygen and continue bitching about my inane sadness like it’s such a fucking choice. Of course, people do tend to worry sometimes and ask way too many questions that I don’t have any answers to (in one situation, I found myself wracked with the conundrum of whether I should blatantly lie to my pressure-ridden grandmother or not), but really, it’s not their job to worry about me. It’s their job to worry about themselves and do good and be productive and get somewhere ahead in this stupid planet, and I’ll be there behind them every step of the way, cheering them on and assuring them and feeling proud for them and all that TED Talk crap, because it’s all I could do for now, and what they can’t ever do for me.

But sometimes, it also feels really lonely, and even lonelier when you know you couldn’t tell anyone about it, because it’s solely yours and no one else’s problem. Yes, I know, I know, I brought this solely upon myself, and I took the riskier choice when everyone pleaded for me to reconsider my decision and take the otherwise solution, and I didn’t even stop to set up any alternate plan-b’s or cheap setbacks to fall on, in the event that my original plan fails. Why? Simply because I wanted a fresh start for myself. Simply because I felt suffocated by this shrinking cul-de-sac of a place and wanted to get away from the same tiring things that I’ve been seeing for 18 years of my life ad nauseam. And simply because I want to force myself to actually believe in my capabilities, and fucking hope that for once in my life, I’ll be enough, maybe just enough, to make at least one implausible triviality into a reality.

Do I not want anyone to be disappointed in me? No. It doesn’t matter if anyone is anyway, I’m pretty much used to that already. I just don’t want to disappoint myself anymore, that’s all. I’ve always been falling behind my entire life, and I don’t think I could ever catch up.

I just wish time would go by just a little bit faster so I can finally stop holding my breath for nothing.

~*~

And he’s oh, so good, and he’s oh, so fine
And he’s oh, so healthy in his body and his mind
He’s a well respected man about town
Doing the best things so conservatively…

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Filed under Prose

Just a Pale Shade of Rosy Vision

And I want you to stop insisting that
I’m not a lost cause ’cause I’ve been through a lot
Really all I’ve got is just to stay pissed off, if it’s alright by you
But hearts are breaking, and wars are raging on
And I have taken my glasses off, you got me nervous
When you’re turning it into a joke…

~*~

I don’t know if I’m going to college. I know what I want to do, but I don’t know if I’ll make it.

Obviously, she says I’m being irrational with my decisions because I’m still hopeful, optimistic, just another manic boy seeing the damned dark world through rose-coloured glasses and floral idealisms, too naive and gullible for my own good, covertly trusting in demons masked with shiny halos.

She should’ve seen me nearly bleeding out in the middle of the night because I was too tired for anything else, because I felt like I wouldn’t be able do do anything more useful with my existence. She should’ve seen me doing it again a week after. And again and again and again. She should’ve seen me giving up.

At this point, these foolish little dreams of mine are all I have. They’re insane, yes, and most likely impossible, but who am I to turn it away? When I’m left with nothing but screaming nightmares, it’s the only thing that’s keeping me at bay, keeping me going on, keeping me alive, because everything and everyone else has given up on me. Including her.

Yes, maybe I can be such a selfish idealist sometimes, that much I acknowledge. But is it so wrong for me to want for more than just a stable job? A cash-grab career? A walking ATM fountain? Is it so wrong for me to want to be happy, or at the very least, be content with what I do, to see, experience, and feel more, to be more than just to be another greased cog in this broken machine they call a society?

Apparently, it is. Stupid child, listen to the adults, because they know more than you ever will, and you’re just setting yourself up for disappointment and failure. Since it’s so dumb of me to be hopeful, then what’s the fucking point of trying? Is being a sad, jaded, and washed-up individual all I have to look forward to in the future? Is it the only standard I should ever set for myself because everyone else ended up doing it? Because she ended up doing it? Because it’s the only sure and rational thing left in this ever-changing and cutthroat world?

If so, then nothing else should matter. Because I don’t want to have to live for it anymore.

~*~

Just let me cry a little bit longer
I ain’t gon’ smile if I don’t want to
Hey, man, we all can’t be like you
I wish we were all rose-coloured too…

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Filed under Prose

Come, Morning Light

The fire that left your blanket in ashes

Won’t trouble your cold heart anymore

And the angels that carried your parents

Will not return to take your heart to soar

.

As your little grey ragdoll sits by the ruins

Of the playground you once called “home”

And the shadows that used to play with you

Have disappeared, and now you feel so alone

.

Your tears have mixed with the relentless rain

That put out the wild flames alighting the city

Blossoms wilt and thorns flourish in the grass

The bloodred sunset is more scary than pretty

.

Your brother and sister went off with toy guns

And never returned even after they all promised

So now you sit by the orphanage’s cellar stairs

With others who lost their mummies and daddies

.

Are you alone in this world of detritus and rust?

Every light is killed with a dropping bomb again

Death is your lullaby, quiet music behind the dust

Faithless, will there be someone to save you then?

.

But no, don’t you cry now behind that gas mask

I’ll keep you safe from all the questions unasked

I’ll sing you a song, as this sky falls in fragments

Shield you with my wounded arms from the glass

.

Please don’t fear, you will never have to be hungry

You might dream of hell but heaven is yours to see

Asphalt grey and storms of gloom, as wind billows

Muffle every disaster, sleep soundly in your pillow

.

The war was never meant to be fought by innocence

Just machines to tear apart and men with losing sense

To your damaged soul, fettered with doubts and fears

No one will hurt you now…you’ll be alright, I promise

.

Someday the battle will end, and hope shall soon arrive

We can’t take back what’s lost, but we can change our lives

Open your eyes when the sun returns to shade the dawn

To see the rising daybreak where all your nightmares are gone.

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Filed under Poetry

Blood Will Have Blood

The reverent situation embellished in derelict plinths

A monolithic monument for the glorious and the bold

Calm deceit that shackled itself by the crumbling base

Of the cavalier and honourables, now but history aged

Voices of the casualties pilfered from pernicious graves

What must be forgotten is an imprint of those who saved

The damned beaten down into the ground from which they lay

Sacrificing blood so clockwork eyes may live to see another war-bent day.

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Filed under Poetry

bang bang

a yesterday

or two ago

i watched

my child

grow up and

get married

.

but today

and in the now

i watched

my child

fall down and

get buried.

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Filed under Poetry

What’s Wrong?

It’s all overgrown but you’ll never know
Take the mirror from the wall so I can’t see myself at all
Don’t wanna see another damn inch of my skull
Forget the poems of saints and ghosts, I’m the one I fear the most
Little did I know that I was only crying wolf…

~*~

Lied faceless identities and lost nameless bones

Broken mirrors romancing with concrete stones

Low voices muttering in the middle of the night

Back against the wall, turned under black lights

Standing in the midst of destruction that rebirths

Sacrificing sanctity for the sake of scars to revert

.

I will be what’s wrong with the world.

.

A hundred metaphors deleted in boldface type

Swearing for the shadows, cursing lack of spite

For no one envisions a future with personal ties

Because tongues can only soar out when they lie

An arsenal of armory, walls built to keep them out

Convinced by the paranoia and mitigated by doubt

.

I will be what’s wrong with the world.

.

So call out the name that’s censored in every news station

Immortalised only in faded graffiti and youthful separation

So seek on and find now what can only be seen by the blind

To a place where wrong is right, and the heart beats the mind

I won’t be the marching guide, the black parade you’ll follow

But in a reality of common opposites and moral contradictions, I know

.

I am what’s wrong with the world.

~*~

No I never sold my soul, no I never sold mine
I know it’s so wrong but I’m so far gone
Don’t need you to tell me I’m so cynical
Quit being so over-skeptical
Don’t need a metaphor for you to know I’m miserable…

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Filed under Poetry

Blah Blah Blah

You can try but I will not obey, I will not obey
You’re not a God, I’m not your slave
And you can try but there’s no controlling me
I’ve had enough, the shit you preach
You talk too much, swallow your teeth…

~*~

Bite your tongue and clench your teeth

Hold your breath and chew your cheek

Shut your mouth and bleed out your lips

Taste the blood foaming, ain’t it sweet?

.

When the lies aren’t enough to hold you back

And the conversations form into a spiteful god

They’re all talk talk talk, but never say a word

The gossip so lurid, crashing down your worlds

.

And would they believe you if it was the truth?

They’ll just call you a preacher and a hypocrite

And would they believe you if you told no evil?

Litanies affixed to your names like it’s bullshit

.

‘Cause there’s no place for an honest man in hell

And there’s no place for sinners wishing you well

All that’s clean is replaced by regurgitation and bile

And people whispering rumours, stuck here a while

.

So just burn your tongue and swallow your teeth

Choke down your breath and rip off your cheeks

Shut your fucking mouth and bleed out your lips

To taste the gory lies foaming, oh, ain’t it so sweet?

~*~

With so much hate, you drown in shame
The angels cry but you won’t change
You built your world on fear and pain
The snakes will surely sing your name…

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Filed under Poetry

The Game Played Right

Is there anyone who can make me see?
Help me breathe
Is there anyone who can make me feel alive inside?
Sink or swim is all I know tonight
Well take me to the bed, it feels so right
Wake me up…

~*~

I keep on lying. The silent pieces remain unapologetically in my lips, melting and melding together and apart, clashing like shades of blue and gold, until my smiles are mutated and my bated tongue is in shreds. Fear is an embrace I’ve learned to take upon myself, selling myself short to it, buying away the final remaining original thoughts I’ve slaved over in myriad sleepless nights until I’m a-la carte. Change is to blame for the causeless effect, and I’m asking for more from what can’t be taken away from me, cutting corners and targeting the contrition with a bolted gun, as if that would solve my problem. Would that open the deadlocked box of hope, containing those transient reminiscences of what used to be faith, keeping my wrists from giving itself up to bladed handcuffs and abrading ropes?

No, because it’s been open all this time. I’m merely pretending that it’s fully out of grasp, stuffing the sunshine in a pocket with a hole, then feigning remorseful surprise when I grasp the cloth and fail to feel its reassuring outline. I won’t get away, just as the moon can’t break away from its cruel mistress, no matter how hard it tries. Dependence requires sustenance, never mind if one’s getting hurt, never mind if one’s just wasting time and lightyears, never mind that there’s someone who sucks on the cigarette and there’s one who gets snuffed out in the ashes of its former companions, and both are slowly dying with each harmful, addicting, nicotine drag. Perhaps it’s better to move on, burn my house down with the lighter, and stab a flag on top of a desolate mountain, letting the frigid Arctic breeze pierce my lungs, reminding me that I’m dead inside, day by day, every single night.

Yes, the truth hurts worst when you’re lying on your back in a hollowly-carved bed, watching the tick of the sagging clock draw frowns on your dripping beige ceiling, the crude notches on the bedpost your only substitute for a calendar, not even the gathering dust on your windowsill keeping track of your blunt existence, but is that really such a bad plotline to read into? After all, I’m a mere instrument of conflict, and if I do not fulfill my function, I have no point, and dull instruments are of no use to anyone but the junkyard. So, what’s the point but pointlessness? What is there to release from arrogance, from selfishness, from egocentric human needs and desires, shallowness sucking away the will to speak in freedom, constantly starving for lust and lusting for starvation and dying from either loneliness or hunger in the end?

Give me that. Give me an answer that would morph my vulgar counterfeit laughter back into a purely genuine jubilance, give me a reply that would wash away the contracting fallacies in my conflicted mind and make my craving lecherous soul finally taste the decadent truth, give me a statement to swim in and sink under as I ponder deeply upon it and spend all my cashed-in stars to figure it out until I may finally repose in peace, give me an oratorical rhetoric that would drag me out of the hands of the angels in the ambulance and shock my heart into sinus rhythm, give me something, anything at all that would set this hellish perpetual carousel in a dead jolting halt and wouldn’t throw me off the cutthroat ride, give me—give me what I want. Yet, is what I want really what I need?

Never. Because in this reality, the parallel cruelty prevents any chance of a perfect alignment or even a destined intersection between any limits, and it’s all we can do to keep walking in the thin line and keep a painful positiveness, because backtracking to the negatives would devour us whole, render us irrational, and count us as impossible. Yet, despite knowing all of those and sharing such meaningless contrivances to the eyes that refuse to perceive and the ears that refuse to listen, I still want you to lie to me. Lie to me until your lips are mutated and your bated tongue is in shreds, lie, lie, lie, until the wrong turns right, until forward becomes backwards, until the truth is the ultimate lie, and I’ll gladly do the same to you. After all, we’re just doing what we need to do. We’re just doing all we can do.

~*~

These self inviting auras
Made me bring out the sun
Your body’s played its role
It’s ruined my game
And now I can’t believe I’ve done it
But somehow I still feel
But I still feel, so far gone…

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A Trainwreck of Thoughts

My heart is pounding fast, I’m out of gas, it never lasts

Serotonin, oxytocin, we’re built for sins and late for mass

Chemical, mechanical faces, daily races underwater

Looking for god in cabarets and never searching for answers

Am I your jester? Will I entertain her? Is the sense in making sense

For a semblance of humanity, insanity, neuropathy

Endowed in chronic migraines and under castigated lies?

Uncertainties play like a chess piece, checkmate, check please

Asking the waiter for the receipt, but he never comes

It’s sympathetic…pathetic, isn’t it?

The empathy that curls and coils and churns in my esophagus

Screaming until my lungs are bruised, traumatic pain, dramatic recluse

In the throes of a black rose, petals falling in a final calling

For the tears in tantrum storming, where are we now?

Somehow…it never changes, the change rattling ranges in our pockets

Never mean a thing, but there’s a hole in your pants

And your nickels are clattering in your mind; never mind

The respect, don’t expect, crestfallen and swollen eyes, do it thrice

Without fail, without avail, without much ado about the gale

They say love was just a tale written in thorns and photographs,

Polaroids and tongues so crass, washing away the blood on our hands

Burying the body but never saying sorry, you’ll never bury the past!

Here I stand. My heart is pounding fast, I’m out of spare tires and gas

Waiting for the moment to last, waiting for the end to finish the past

Will this sempiternity ever end? Will the medication finally bend?

Will this recluse find the chaos amid the calm, will I take on such a task?

My heart slows down, and I’m waiting silently yet patiently for you to ask,

But you never show your cards, and again…I relapse.

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Filed under Poetry

From Cathedral Confessionals To Vacant Motel Rooms

Give us this day our daily dose
Of faux affliction, forgive our sins
Forged at the pulpit with forked tongues
Selling faux sermons, cause I am a new wave
Gospel sharp, and you’ll be thy witness
So gentlemen, if you’re gonna preach
For God’s sake, preach with conviction!

~*~

Prayers at the pulpit, wasted sunlight stalked in grey

Cunning trick and guileful guilt trip theatrics at play

Cavalier coronary effusion, witnesses plead the fifth

The parish resident contradicts, as all the crosses lift

.

Glory conceived in savage strokes of bloodied wines

My conviction is an eviction, tell a jury lies this time

Plagued with gunslingers, spinsters, character shady

Debonair diner apparels, wrinkled trousers, humility

.

The constabulary and congregation condemned revolt

My empirical altruism’s the new cancer, neglect faults

Burlesque shame accentuating formaldehyde intimacy

Asbestos lips, flimsy camisole fumbled simultaneously

.

Tenant engaged medical malpractice, his landlord buys

Epileptic gloating and impertinence, furlough play nice

Sartorial sarcasm and wills held against the desperation

Divorcees eavesdrop on prudent prudes, commiseration

.

Perfumes and newspaper advertisements crying of weddings

Massacring a breathalyser, scotch in prefaced elevator scenes

A paperback syndication concealing secret wretched incident

The allegations made by schizophrenics held to be significant.

~*~

Strike up the band! Whoa-oh, the conductor is beckoning
Come congregation, let’s sing it like you mean it
No, don’t you get it, don’t you get it? Now don’t you move
Just stay where I can see you, douse the lights!

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Filed under Poetry