Communication 171

 grid

 

have we not had enough yet?

a system crippled by its own inadequacies

the ego, megalomania, a distinct hypnosis

that keeps you chomping at the bit,

if you keep on whoring yourself you might get rich,

if you’re wild and dangerous you might get famous, 

I can’t look you in the eye,

your hollow body appears dead to me,

just keep taking the poison,

something to dumb you down,

the world to me is beyond reason,

I can’t take the indecision

haven’t you noticed?

your legs and arms are stitched

tied down tight to each corner of the grid

your bones will break, your muscle will tear

with each counter-clockwise turn of the dial

you can live within denial, pretend the pain isn’t real

with all these gods shooting from the hip

it’s hard not to get hit by their bullet 

Communication 170

 summers town

 

the tips of the trees above me

swaying summers breeze 

a hay fever post sneeze

alcoholic tendencies 

the holidays are over

one year older 

we’d skate through the streets

under streetlamp lights

within the seamless moment

everything felt right,

drinking under the slide

in the last gasp of daylight,

we were brothers,

undefined in our purpose

guitar music connected us,

that first sweet smell 

of cheap cigarettes 

you choke as the smoke

hits the back of your throat

but you get use it,

we’d abuse it,

youth as far as the eye

could see, an acid trip

a fake I.D, climbing the wall

of our secondary school,

there was something sinister

about the empty halls

each classroom held a memory 

when the world meant 

the most to me,

we’d carve our names

into the school benches 

our first love flutter

distracting our senses 

the torment and confusion 

of a newfound emotion

rebounding me from

wall to ceiling 

I can’t contain the feeling,

it seems like yesterday

we’d rush out to play

the dinner bell would ring

and we’d start conspiring 

to leave this place forever

and with the school days behind us

I hitched a ride

and never looked back

I don’t want to back track,

and talk about “the good old days”

it was such a strange malaise 

of crass and raw confusion

when our outlook on life

was all but an illusion

 

Communication 169

 Amnesia State

 

structures will fall if all of us pull

the wool from in front of our eyes,

every second a lab rat dies

when it tries to take a piece of the pie

and I’m left half-conscious wondering 

what the hell I’m even here for 

I’ve seen this shit all before 

somewhere in a history book

a partisan with a warped world view

whose words carefully corrupted you

stands tall,

does anyone remember the Jews?

don’t let me confuse you

it’s as if you can’t grasp

that such ‘wordplay’ can happen again,

I can hardly wait for the Amnesia State

to start begging for forgiveness

when the cowardly bastard’s witness

that all they’ve ever preached is poison,

whipping up the porous crowds 

soaking them in their hollow shells

mindless rhetoric, 

borderline neurotic,

psychobabble to calm the rabble,

I’m effortlessly bored of all of this

the overreaching voice of the people

needs to be dismissed  

Communication 168

the disappeared 

 

bury it for later 

bury it completely

the neurosis kicks in gradually

as you try to compute the tragedy

 

oh, how I want you to disappear 

never to be seen again,

I’ll dig you up when

I reflect on all my past regrets

those I can’t forget,

 

I’m giving myself a reason 

to be addicted to something,

my dreams where never harvested

they remained unpicked for a season,

festering for no reason.

 

trodden into the dirt, under foot, 

my time’s over,

my life has come and gone,

all I can do is hang on,

and through the fog 

of 1000 prescription pills

I can pretend I’m not ill