If you don't fail, you will never truly succeed.

The truest way to determine the nature of another man's heart is by the color of their lightsaber.

Fully Appalled by the Reticent Toot

Nothing turns the mind a bit
Like the sound
Of the unwound
When lit.

And no-one reads the earth so profoundly,
Like one who walks its circumference,
Then exhausted sleeps,
So soundly.

And when there is silence,
And the countdown begins,
I choke on my laughter -
For her awkward sin.

She weaves to and fro,
Then, like the clouds, breaks wind.

Clown Shoes

Don't be alarmed by my pace
I've changed for the day - no disgrace!
I'm trying new prose
Like a new set of hose
That I might be comfortably laced.

I have trouble writing the trite
Although many would (many might)
Consider the jocular
From afar, though binocular,
To be distasteful in any light.

Still I say it's completely fallacious,
To ignore one's humor, so gracious,
That, when we stumble,
Shows us how we're humble,
Which in turn can make us less voracious.

So I guess what I'm saying is this:
In the grossest of ironic twists,
The lesser you've palled
To the name you've been called
The better you'll feel in the midst.

Teacher the Talented

Children are amazing!

They are the
Boundless energy of the
Soulless indignity of the
Mindless calamity that we
See.

So forgive not
What will not be forgiven
In you.

Forget not
The important lessons taught
To you.

What Lie?

In jest do I rest
But even with the best
Intentions

I suffer the calamitous
Misinterpretous
Truss?

Ugh,
What a strange sense of humor.

Countdown to Suicide

I hate attention
That’s why I shine
In the space where no-one is looking.

I hate pity
That’s why I cry
In the space where no-one is looking.

I hate to live
So I’ll die
In the space where no-one is looking.

Friends, Quiet in the Corner

I dreamt of a land
That flowed sky to sea
With other dreamers
Just like me.

We slid through channels
Plotting cautious course
Eyes full of chaos
And remorse.

What silence we shared
Quietude given
To one another
Eternal.

Some fools want only words
But the quiescent are fulfilled in one another
For noise does naught for none.

A Fantastic Reason to Bugger Off

It downright
Pisses me off!

That I can laugh
At the ignorant
In a throng
Of intellectuals
But a single word can put me on their level.

Who dares presume to know me?

Only the most foolish
Know before
They learn
Before
They experience
Before
They believe.

For from belief comes all things.

Obeu

Yeah I'm a man.
Call me a chauvinist,
But I don't think it's wrong
To take the passenger seat
And my feet
Can't find a place
But I'm carefully watching your face.

Well maybe it’s wrong to feel weak
So I try not to let my emotions leak
But it’s been so long since I’ve cried
That sometimes I wonder . . .

So how can I expect you to love me now?
How can I expect you . . .
With offhanded smile
And casual assurances
To accept my façade?

Do you think I don't notice?
I can’t stand it when you look away
Because I’m not the reason you stay
I’m just another loser friend
A testament to your
Dead-end life.

You’ll never realize how close we came
To making it, to winning this game
Because you're too wrapped up
In the perfect body, perfect smile, perfect life,
To tear your way out.

I don't doubt.

D347|-|

Part I: Violent End
The inevitable closure of an ongoing process - this is the cruelty of death. Even the most wretched of lives may fail to embrace death. Why? Because they still believe that life is hope. How foolish to think that one moment could forever alter their presence on this earth.

Part II: Awkward Change
The absence of life is the nature of death. Who among us does not forget that absence and believe in the presence of the dead? Even if only for a moment, we are prone to forgetfulness, especially in regard to those to whom we were close. This is the real power of death: that it can deceive us into believing in life.

Part III: Artistic Device
Death makes us think. What we think is really irrelevant to the nature of our introspection. Whether we chuckle or weep, we have reacted; thus, our pondering has led to some conclusion.

Part IV: Idea
Death represents ____.

Never What?

I looked to the sky
For signs of the weather

And saw that today
I wouldn't have it together

And maybe you won't
Be with me forever

But does that really mean,
That we should never?

Jerk

Yes, there are stupid questions
Like the one you ask me all the time.
"Where are we going?"
I don't know, idiot.
Don't ask me that.

When you ask me something I don't know,
It makes me look stupid
So don't do that . . .
Jerk.

Fa Fa Fa Fa

Fa Fa Fa Fa

Fa Fa Fa FA!

Too much to handle
Too much to eat
Too little bone
For all this meat

Too much friendship
Too much hate
Too many times
I stayed up too late

With you.

Fa Fa Fa Fa

Fa Fa Fa Fa

Fa Fa Fa FA!

Rock, Get It? (It's a Pun)

It’s true I feel the rhythm
Of the earth beneath my feet
For all of glorious creation
Has a tune or primal beat
But should you ever stop
And choose to leave me on my own
Remember:
Just because I rock doesn’t mean I’m made of stone.

Many times I’ve played
My companion only wind
When others of my kind
Their melodies rescind
But forget not my humanity
When I have perfect tone
Just because I rock doesn’t mean I’m made of stone.

If your feet begin to tap
With involuntary life
Or the piercing wedge of music’s edge
Cuts you like a knife
Don’t forget the one
Who endures on his throne
Just because I rock doesn’t mean I’m made of stone.

Refuse

Move my head up and down,
So you can add me to
Your carbon copy collection
Please, point me in the right direction
Distinction you stole from me
A puppet act that writes rhymes for free
Back to back to back to your mansion
So you can add my vocabulary like a brain expansion
Napoleon ain’t got nothin’ on you,
You’re at your best in this conquest
When you aren’t giving me your attitude,
You’re rude, living in the moment
Though it’s understood
That ‘the hood’ is just slang for
‘I got you good’
Well ain’t it now
Just precious how you mesh us
Like it’s a tightrope gig from the floor to the ceiling
When you’re feeling low
Don’t yell at me for insensitivity
It’s what you made me to be
When you took my personality
Yeah
That’s right I went there
‘Cause now that you’re dead
Who could care
What you scream from the afterlife,
Obscenities are your dull knife
And I won’t sharpen my murder weapon no more.

RIPEAP

'Tis naught
That I would not give
To realize but some fraction
Of that which dwells in my fragile mind.

But naught
That I would say
Would make you stay
So why attempt?

For my prose
Shares not
The fullness or faith
That I imagine myself to possess.

So flee from my
Dogged cliches
And at last you'll be out of my clutches.

Five Days Since His Aircraft Disappeared

BleedingHeartCommunist: The manner and substance of my peers' conversation is frequently cause for frustration.

Kabri: I would venture to guess that it also leads to loneliness.

BHC: Indeed, but loneliness is to be preferred over social compromise.

Kabri: Perhaps, at times.

BHC: That is my justification; what exception do you find?

Kabri: Well, I find that in forced social obligations I can be alone in the midst of a crowd. Likewise the opposite may be true in the company of one. So the real question is: which is preferable?

BHC: The companionship of the few to the isolation amongst many.

Babel

Nearly all the world
Crumples at your feet
And you attack me.
What can I provide that you can't?

Why lean into
And over
The dike that retains
My self-loathing
Now take your finger out of the dam-thing!

Your feigned stupidity only makes things worse.

Sure I know what power words hold
But if you won't leave me be
I will return to the graceless scar
That is my inoculation
My transfusion from love's enlivening pains
How could suffering be so useful, Mister Gibran?

True,
I say many things
But you cannot hold me to them.

Foolish, that you fling your faerie-self upon me
A holistic whore
Bent on destroying body, mind, and soul.

Can you continue?
Still, my vagaries and vulgarities intertwine
Like our legs.

Like our thoughts.

Like our destinies.

Or so I thought.

Shut Up (I Won't Do What You Tell Me)

The bass
The rock
The mic
The treble
I like my metal
Without mindless psychobabble
And if the suicide
That I deride will coincide
With what you say
Does that make me okay?

The bass
The rock
The mic
The treble
I like my metal
Without mindless psychobabble
Just a some chick
And a dude being ironic
Maybe this time it'll stick
That there's more there than saying "dick"

The bass
The rock
The mic
The treble
I like my metal
Without mindless psychobabble
Sure I can live without
The self-doubt that you're about
But your clout is worth the shout
'Cause the music's what
You're about.