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When the Mind Plays Tricks
The wind was music enough while stars that would someday die, stood still in dark skies as an audience sitting in the black and blue. A few lights stood out...a kitchen light left on with the blinds open, a doorbell, the car alarm lights that flickered red just under the windshields, and the automatic street lamps that would open and close their eyes as if they had always been awake and were at last drifting off like recovering insomniacs.
A man sat upon an uncomfortable porch during a gusty summers night, just after the birth of morning by nearly two hours. The trees would sing their parts in unison with the lazy gusts from south to north and north to south. Another light was near to him, just inside of his hands, while he typed. A phone, with a warped screen...its face beheld a bubble that was to it like a transparent blemish.
Off in the distance drummed the rubber of spinning tires over late night roads beneath more yellow street lights. Whether they were drunks, cheaters, teens avo
Actors in the Flesh
I'm rather good at playing the role of a man in pain. God gave me some noticeable baggage beneath my eyes, and bleak look that would have had victims of some great disaster asking me of the burdens on my shoulders. Funny thing was, that I had always been a little angry about that...never really got me anywhere but in a world of unwanted pity.
"Time was a mean old bastard to this face," I thought, "or was it choice?"
It didn't matter so much half the time. A walking, talking corpse seems like a good line up for a good punchline to some twisted joke. And that's the thing, is it not? No one likes a frown in that world of pity, they just want smiles, even if only for themselves. If they're just shy of the right size or temperature of heart, they take a swing at that joke, just for kicks...even if those kicks were really sucker punches below the belt. Took me years to realize that it couldn't be helped, but when it came to me, it came. I don't really remember when or where, and I don't thin
Things to Take on an Acid Trip
Several matches for each plot of land in a phase of suicidal tendency, and perhaps gasoline for the sake of a better show.Glasses can be for the brightest lights on the older towers before implode and fade into dust, leaving themselves in clocks to in & around time, disintegrate. A topless thinking cap, for the open mind required by a chore of listening to raving schizophrenics that may have a point or two, depending on the voice whose behalf they speak on.
A vacation round the world in matters of time and variety, in store for our future, so I encourage all to pack accordingly. It is only a vacation in that you will deviant from what you think you know.
An old paper fan for the heated debates of distractions and attractions. Different eyes for every sight to behold so as to spice the convolution. Grenades to open letters from loved ones and old friends. Magnets to toss deep into clouds for purposes of entertainment. Gargoyles for the nightmares outside every wall you've built up. Sand
Please Wake Up
Trapped in a fantasy whom harbors the
echoes of the voices that love, the false smiles
spread wide to blockade the hell forming within heart.
Yours are the eyes that will see what the senses
adapted will force them to see.
The rain buries every drop of liquid salt
from the swollen wells of brunette,
who blink bloodshot from the nightmares still
continued beyond the place of bliss, that woefully
small world of ignorance that only sorrow can create.
Small quakes come and go from the outer reaches
where mountains dwell, and they creep over your
shoulders as you run across reality,
trying your damnest to maintain that smile.
And the plants, how they wither and die as hope
becomes a fleeting miracle, and the flowers
discolor and become ash as faith becomes
tested day by day by year.
The world is collapsing, and I pray that you
just take my hand to bring up the words
we should say in heart and aloud so that this
dying world lives as some reality within reality.
For the love of our own love a
The hands press, filthy and shaking as the knees
have lately greeted the cold earth for a beggars perspective.
Silence has become the loudest reply from the
Heavens and the visions have left the ears ringing for the call to arms.
A war is traveling to a place in the times to come,
where man will hold the greatest sum of casualties and
beyond physical endings. Subliminal messages within
visions see to it to remind those see of prophecies foretold.
Seven serpents of false colors move with scales
made of all seeing eyes, weighed unevenly in ever
corrupt judgement, keeping warm beneath tarnished flags
dropped over the corpses of the contemporary river Styx.
How the river is grown from its many clots in
its veins spread out from the depths of Hell,
where the devil blushes in admiration of his work in progress.
Here there are no numbers flr the sins committed and to be committed.
I cannot run, even if my desire were in the places of cowardice.
I beseech the Host to tear down the gates of Hel
Setting Fire to The Sword.
A mystery for dinner, to be spoon fed and ensure a scalded mouth to curl up the tongue. That scent that comes forth to greet the black sunset in the middle of a predicted eclipse.
Death to come and to leave, leaving behind the bread crumbs towards a better day, like a Message from God in the times when Gabriel was given other tasks for that process of fate.
A blade left in a stone beneath the open hole of the ashen skies through which a little light remains piercing through and throughout space and time shining bright off the metal.
God help them, they only see a sword and its perfect edge. They know not how to wield this glorious tool to even the odds and clear the air, as never was it intended for bloodshed.
I have seen the fields beyond that stone that burn and build the smoke of those skies. I hear the call to put them out for all of time to come and go, just as you intend for this war of ages.
Would not it a tale to tell to eager ears? The flaming blade that consumed those fires,
Signs of the End
Smoke on the rise, where the moth flies low,
Collecting ash where should be dust.
An old structure fades with growing flames,
Until the moth is choked from its bowels.
A tree melts into the wax earth,
Sinking into the heart cracked open ajar
In many an area, round the broken tendons.
Those tendons were of the lush grass of green that somber,
never did get to see the real sun.
Let flow from the basis unto though purging flames,
that smoke on the rise, as the crazed moth
counts the specs of ash and dust amidst its collection.
Its fixed eyes would have not seen the spreading fires,
nor would they ever until the eleventh minute of
so short a life span for the creature that
could have easily been mistaken for the creature
that brings life to flowers...
the room of the model and artificial kingdom go
ablaze from a moment out of nowhere, as the brewing
flames became more from their source and blackened
the model and room and home to just some charred carcass,
as was that first old structure t
What Feels like Damnation
January was a first within which I quickly lost track of time, when the year began in a ninth circle developed out of treacherous fear. A convoluted scheme that wrapped away my freedom for a man of ill wealth that took fancy to my unfortunate name.
I was a gift, and show such love that I did indeed question in that following February. To and from like a breathing Valentine, walking with bare feet, cross country to be presented as god given property to the fiend that I called master against the laws of choice.
Free will was suffocated in the wearing of shackles whose rust gave new color to the skin that they met. Marching in March, the road carried on as I lived as cattle for the monsters whose humanity had been consumed by the circles of the Hell in which I was misplaced.
A fool did I think myself to ever pity a man who had allowed his humanity to be robbed from in front of his own eyes, whilst my humanity was given the treatment of beast worth a fraction to the rest of my fellow man.
AntaresLook what puerile parts you play
In ripping down the sky.
Look at what can be unmade
When we steal the right to live and die.
I hope you hear the screaming
Carried on the psychic wind
Heralding your purpose as null and void,
And no one ever wants
To spit your name again.
But the spirit world can see into your dreams
And thinly sever your fortunes there.
Shamans are about your door
Shaking dry bone rattles that call the shades
Of those hearts you couldn't win.
Antares has deserted you, friend, I hold it in my hand,
A bright marble to see through all your guilt and shame.
Come forward Eastern/Western comrade,
You know I'll meet you here,
And we shall see whose will is strong,
We shall find the heart of fear.
The weak think terror is powerful
The wise see your own weak soul is mirrored there,
And so know how to find you,
From the inside of your nightmares.
--J. Shidler 2012-07-22
warWhat a hard world for the dreamer.
What a joke that makes might think it's right.
There is no war with honour
While our cannon fire pulls down the walls,
Where babies slept and mothers smiled,
And everybody dies.
There is no peace with honour
While our carrion flies crawl over walls,
Buzzing on bodies behind the lines,
Hiding from the truth of light,
Waiting to push buttons
That end so many lives.
If you can't look me in my eyes
Before I'm made to die,
And address me with your own dignity,
And be sure there's no surprise,
Then you have no respite here on Earth,
And nowhere in the sky.
No god tells us we must kill;
That's all a twisted lie
The faint of will use, with petulance,
When they've simply lost their minds.
And who respects a "leader"
Who uses violence instead of taking time
To entreat a matter fully,
Surrounding those who thwart,
Compressing them into hateful diamonds
To give to murder's bride?
We cannot assuage our consciences,
By shifting the burden across the board
Of an enm
Corporations.They say I need help…
I laugh and reply
It is them who need it.
At least I’m not the one
Sucking people’s salaries dry.
Government Press ConferenceI am sure
That somewhere in that lineup
Behind the Prime Minister's head
Someone, for a second, went blind
Seeing in that space behind their eyes
(It will never get out)
Green leaves in shadow, in sun,
Or a minnow's silver flash in some slate-peppered lake
The blue sky thickening into evening at the horizon
Water to their ankles
And they promised themselves
(And everyone else)
That they would send that peace to all corners...
Worth Nothingyou're so lovely
you're the best
you're so lonely
and they fail to realize that
like all of these qualities
that you have
are worth nothing
1492 SUGAR DADDYColumbus is famous because
he thought the earth was smaller
than Venus, and he didn’t know
that America existed,
and after he found it, he still thought
it was Cippangu, off the coast of Cathay.
Father of Our Times!
History’s Great Dumbass!
When you can't (a poem)If poetry makes me happy
and you can't
If poetry mesmerizes me
and you can't
If poetry makes me feel loved
and you can't
If poetry entertains me
and you can't
If poetry makes me smile
and you can't
If poetry enchants me
and you can't
If poetry lifts me up to my dreams
and you can't
If poetry warms up my heart
and you can't...
...then, poetry can be the true lover
when you can't!
No ContextOnly when I'm about to die do I feel most alive
Suicide is for the weak, leave that thought be
And I shall die on my own terms
With the rush of life flowing deep within me
Schools PenitentiarySchool the jail for the children of absolute
This penitentiary locking us in forcing false images
Of success into our young minds
This THING they call school
Is only used to destroy the young’s creativity
The generations of old are scared
Scared of the change that might and will come
Our generation will rise and fight back
Our future will not be determined
By a letter for our grade saying
Whether we pass or fail in society
This change will bring a revolution
A generation in which we don’t discriminate
People for color or sex preference
This world will be reawakened
Creativity will rule this world once again
School won’t be a place of hell
But a haven for knowledge
But for now this world will burn away
Slowly we watch our mother die
Education is taught under false pretense
Of those who say school is education
But for those fools who think
They can stop change and creativity
I say to you
Burn, Burn away
Have you looked into the shattered mirror,
to find the subject of your exasperation?
Accursed hypocrites of the heathen reign,
"Make them suffer for the sins of their ancestors!"
What know you of history's bloody course?
Not a thing, not a damn thing.
Look in the mirror of this worlds memory,
let the record show that which is yours,
the folly, the choking arguments.
Evidence is all you have,
just and yet, the other term, of faith...
Yet again and again,
abased, abashed, by my shear hatred for you all,
Of what do you know in regards to faith?
Not a thing, not a damn thing.
You walk hand in hand with
the blind, deaf & dumb
whose names are covered over with genius.
Ignorance is fear, the blood that flows,
will bleed out to write your part of history...
yet what of history do you truly know,
repeated by basic word of mouth...?
Not a thing...
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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