Ready To Die

I've spread myself thin, rested for far too long

Now I'm bleeding on this street, and I see I'm wrong

This whole time I was needing only you

And I forgot that and was so untrue

You've never left my side but I forgot you were here

Now I'm hanging from a noose made out of my own fear

This deep pressing darkness won't swallow me this time

I was made to battle it, my strength I will find

Within you, within myself, within the light

Bring it to me, I'm ready now, for the fight

Can you hear me?  Can you hear my cry

I'm ready, I'm finally ready to die

To die for a cause much greater than me

To die for you, and finally be free

Holy water won't do the trick

All this phony talk is making me sick

Stop pretending to be holier than everyone else

You're a fake,  and your soul you'd sell

An instant a moment you'd turn and flee

I understand I've been there but listen to me

We're hanging by nooses made of our own fear

If we don't man up we'll end up dying here

Is that what you want, I know I don't

Not for my enemies, not for my brothers, no I won't

I won't let that happen if it's the last thing I do

I'll drag them to safety, I will do my best for you

Can you hear me?  Can you hear my cry

I'm ready, I'm finally ready to die

To die for a cause much greater than me

To die for you, and finally be free

Boring

Three little words.  Four rather large words.  Up to date.  Down to the flames.  Doesn't really matter I suppose.  I'm thinking about the way words work.  They can work any way you want them really.  What makes sense to one may not make sense to another.  Or may it?  It may or may not.  But what is fantastic is that you can mold and shape your words to form a piece of art, a work of art, a masterpiece...of art.  Of beauty.  They say grammar is important.  It is no doubt, but there comes a time, there comes a place, when those grammatical rules are supposed to be broken I do believe.  Incomplete.  Sentences.  Are the greatest aren't they?  Dramatic effect they cause, so lovely.  You can really use them to make a point, urgent or not so urgent.  But there it is, the point, staring you in the face.  You think to yourself, that's not right, but it's stuck in my mind now.  Interesting how flaws seem to ingrain themselves into our minds more than flawless things in life.  Horror sticks with us more than peace and beauty...or maybe I'm just screwed up.  Could be.  Couldn't be.  Probably.  Probably not.  Yes.  But anyway, I digress.  I go off an rabbit trails you see, because they are interesting.  Rabbits are fascinating creatures and I hear make great stew.  Dogs like to chase them.  I guess I'm like a dog then, going off on a rabbit trail.  How odd to think of myself as such.  An animal.  but I am right?  Probably.  Yes.  I'd like to be human again sometime.  Sit on my porch watching the sun go down after a long day, drinking some ice cold water.  Ice cold water is good.  have you ever just had a drink of water and it was just the best thing you ever drank?  I have.  it's perfect and cool and clear and tasty, as tasty as any drink could be.  Here I go, off on another rabbit trail, or should I say water trail...I think I'm going to wrap this up now, I'm just typing nonsense.  But perhaps it's made you think about things.  I myself am thinking about a million things right now, which is why I'm writing to get my mind off anything and everything.  Weird what comes out when you just write...nonsense, boring, utter nonsense.  Boring, utter nonsense.

Hidden

Look at the candle flame blown out, blown away

The night over takes you with no words to say

The hatred is flowing and you feel yourself bleed

The darkness laughs as it sucks you dry with glee

How distraught one is to witness an event

The like of which have never been met

By anyone who doesn't really seem to understand

But they sit and stare and wave their hands

Shame on you, shame on me, shame on everyone

But shame on them who turn and run

The slightest error, the slightest tension

The slightest terror that no one ever mentions

Be gone with you, most would say

But the other half simple look the other way

"There's a light at the end of the tunnel" they'll cry

But it is never coming closer so you say your goodbye

I'll tie your noose, if you tie mine

Standing on a stool and counting to nine

Such a sad way to go, and I cried when I knew

That untold story of me and you

Hidden, hidden, hidden...

Last Night

Last night I had a dream
It made me think about who I am
I sold myself a long time ago
To a greater power and I'm glad I did
How I live my life isn't always what I want
But change is so hard , so hard, so hard

Everything is in a slow motion these days it seems
A change nevertheless and can't be stopped
But not how I planned it, never how I plan
And so it goes on, anxiety rising every day
Then it goes down and everything is alright
In your arms I keep finding solace
And then everything works out the way it is meant
Because of you because of you, you keep it that way

Last night I couldn't sleep because a voice was talking
In my head I'm not crazy though I promise
Believe me when I say I'm not crazy, I'm quite sane
I just have this buzzing in my mind
Call in forceful will or just a gut feeling
But it's there and and keeps me up all night long

I'm so stressed out I want to explode
Maybe literally, that's sort of how it feels
Everything is in slow motion these days it seems
But I know what i'm doing and what I have to do
I know my duty and my purpose and that's fine with me
It's a lot of stress but that's okay, that's okay, that's okay

You can't find love in the darkness
You can't find hate in the light
So love like you were meant to
Everyone around you
The haters and the strangers
Love everyone the same

Because last night I had a dream
Where everyone loved like someone I know
And the world was at peace, even among the chaos
Everyone found a way, some time, to love one another
In a perfect world, but it's not
We're in an imperfect world, that's what I dreamed last night

Poem for a Sunday

The leaves on the trees

Gently flutter

Sun light on my face

A glorious display of creation

Creativity, what a word

To describe the world I see

The Creator has created

Such a beautiful array or

Color and majesty

Such cannot be found anywhere else

Not a mind of imagination can

Replicate what has been

Already created

Glory to God

Our Lord and Creator

Such beauty on a Sunday

Valentine

 “Valentine, oh my Valentine! Answer me my sweet Valentine!”

“CUT! You call that acting Ricky? Why don't you try doing it with some real passion. Why don't...why don't you actually try this time yeah? We're gonna go again, for a millionth time. Do it RIGHT THIS TIME!”

“Mr. Fance, not to be rude but this is just a highschool play, it's not anything fancy,” said Anny.

“Oh right, so we can just half-ass the whole thing, that makes sense. Do it again, and do it right. None of you are going home until we get this right people!”

It was cold out now, night had fallen. Fance was leaving the building last. All the students had gone home after her and flown into a rage about Ricky not being passionate enough for the part. Clarence was in love with Valentine...they were mad lovers, yet Ricky acted like Valentine was just a friend, like one of his bros almost. Like Valentine didn't matter that much. Like she was just a side chick or something. No. No she wasn't that. She was SO much more. Fance knew it. He had created her. He had created Clarence too. He had chosen Ricky to play Clarence, much to his regret now.

But oh well right? You live and learn. Fance, you live and learn. What? I know. It's ok we'll get this. They have to get this.

You alright buddy?

Oh look a deer. Why is there a deer in the middle of a city street.

I can't drive right now I'm too tired. I'm going to crash and kill my self, or kill someone else. Is anyone else even alive right now? You mean awake? Yeah awake that's what I meant. It's late at night. The students are home. I'm going home. Fance you're going home. GO HOME FANCE.

 Valentine's waiting for you. She's not real? Is she? She isn't? She is. She must be. I made her. Please. Tell me she's real? I have NO ONE ELSE! You can't take her.

Where am I? Oh I'm home.

Fance shot himself in the head that night, a lipstick kiss of his cheek…

Who was Valentine to take his life? She was created by him? Why would she do that? HOW could she do that? She was directing the play now. She was in charge. Her next victim would be Clarence. Oh she loves Clarence. Right? I do love him she says. I love him? Do I? Do I really love him? He lacks the passion I seek. But I love him. No. Yes. No. I love him. Oh I love him so!

Ricky got to the theater the next day early to try and practice his lines. Truth be told he was a common friend with stage fright. Very familiar. Very common. Very much full of stage fright. He didn't much like Fance and wasn't even sure why the crazy man had chosen him for the part. Maybe because he was a good looking jock. Something like that maybe. Maybe. Yeah maybe.

Here he is. My Ricky Clarence. For me Valentine. He is mine now. Here I am Valentine. I am here for you my love. Yes and I am here for you too my love! Take me in your arms now and kiss me.

“Valentine!”

“Clarence?”

“What? Who said that?”

“'Tis me my love, your Valentine!”

“But...you're not real!”

Not real but real enough for death to overtake both. Why Ricky hung himself from the theater rafters no one knew. But Valentine knew. She drove all her men mad...drove them all...to death.

The Soda Of Death

No one knew what it was
But the name was intriguing
No one understand what it meant
They didn't know that if you drank it
You would die
So one person drank it and died
But no one knew it was the soda
So more people drank it
They all died too
Finally some guy was like
"Dude it must be the soda"
So they dumped it into the ocean
And then killed all the sea life
Realizing their mistake
The people dumped it down the drains instead
But since all drains lead to the ocean
The ocean was still polluted
The End