Through Faith All Things Are Possible
I believe I will find another good woman.
I believe I will get another job, a good one
I believe when people say that it's gonna be okay
I believe it's fine on rainy days
I'd never turn away a person in need
I'd take a bullet for my friends
I believe that's where courage and other good things
Start, and where they end.
I'd take the place of a condemned man
If I thought his sentence was wrong
I'd stand on the gallows and smile and sing
I'd do it because I can
Even if it wasn't for long
I'm thankful every day
when I wake up and I'm alive
I guess I don't know what else to say
Thank you for stopping by
Notes: Stanzas removed and most of this "notes" because nobody saw it. I checked sitemeter.
Let It Not Be Said
Before the dawn rests
A time of empty thoughts.
The sunlight brings activity
But now there is only the praise of God
Reserved for such still moments.
When did all this begin?
The origin holds the answer
To all questions about the end.
The great beginning,
Missed by every generation since
Spectacular like the rising sun,
The hope of every traveler.
It is a far voyage
from day's end to the next.
Before sight vanishes
one takes the longest steps.
Intents focus on reaching safety,
Quickly, before darkness comes.
Some people love darkness,
A close friend to the astral plane.
Early morning clouds often streak the sky
With daintier colors than man could ever hope to copy.
The clouds are blown in by the wind,
Herald of the fiery chariot,
An old god too beautiful for Yahweh to destroy,
The sun is just too nice to do away with.
Though God is jealous
He also recognizes true value.
The only reward of the night voyage
Must be the light at the end of the long wait,
The breeze across a lake in the sunshine
After many hours spent awake,
The sensation of being among the minority
Who worship just as well after midnight
With eyes open and mouths shut, alone.
The guidance of the pastors
sometimes curdles the beauty
Inherent in reading the untouched Christian philosophy.
The interpretation of the material to justify selfish ends
Is a sick trend meant to indoctrinate weak minds.
The prejudices, the biases,
Evil misconceptions, cancerous faults,
Escape from the preacher’s mind through his mouth
And slither around the room into the open
Ears and minds of his audience.
In them he instills his own poor judgment.
One mammoth goes over the cliff
And the rest follow.
He speaks of trust and faith
Until his head bursts on the rocks below.
He preached to his easily led flock:
Abortion is murder.
Niggers are animals.
Jews are evil and unclean.
Drugs cause all crime.
Sex before marriage is sinful and vile.
Obedience to your husband is the path to holiness.
All other religions are damned.
Muslims and Buddhists are terrorists and murderers.
Foreigners are stealing all our jobs.
The list of detestable preconceived trash never ends.
When the holy words come these words will be treated
As blasphemy deserving of the harshest punishment
And this author will become a fugitive.
I will be described as a scum dog God wants killed.
They know because God told the preacher directly
so he says
To hunt down and kill everyone like me
Because we let the babies die,
We have befriended the black peoples and the brown peoples
The yellow peoples and the red peoples
We have corrupted women into thinking willfully.
He preaches:
Kill the abortionists!
Kill the drug addicts!
Kill the minorities and burn their churches,
They’re only animal churches!
Take the rod to your wife and make her obey!
Kill the Satanic Jew cultists!
Kill for God!
Purify his perfect creation for the true race!
Good people fight this war!
Good white people!
The future:
His flock gives their amens,
“We have faith!
We believe!
We understand!
We will hate for God!
We will strike for God without hesitation!
We will kill as God has ordained!”
Do you really think we don't know?
A time of empty thoughts.
The sunlight brings activity
But now there is only the praise of God
Reserved for such still moments.
When did all this begin?
The origin holds the answer
To all questions about the end.
The great beginning,
Missed by every generation since
Spectacular like the rising sun,
The hope of every traveler.
It is a far voyage
from day's end to the next.
Before sight vanishes
one takes the longest steps.
Intents focus on reaching safety,
Quickly, before darkness comes.
Some people love darkness,
A close friend to the astral plane.
Early morning clouds often streak the sky
With daintier colors than man could ever hope to copy.
The clouds are blown in by the wind,
Herald of the fiery chariot,
An old god too beautiful for Yahweh to destroy,
The sun is just too nice to do away with.
Though God is jealous
He also recognizes true value.
The only reward of the night voyage
Must be the light at the end of the long wait,
The breeze across a lake in the sunshine
After many hours spent awake,
The sensation of being among the minority
Who worship just as well after midnight
With eyes open and mouths shut, alone.
The guidance of the pastors
sometimes curdles the beauty
Inherent in reading the untouched Christian philosophy.
The interpretation of the material to justify selfish ends
Is a sick trend meant to indoctrinate weak minds.
The prejudices, the biases,
Evil misconceptions, cancerous faults,
Escape from the preacher’s mind through his mouth
And slither around the room into the open
Ears and minds of his audience.
In them he instills his own poor judgment.
One mammoth goes over the cliff
And the rest follow.
He speaks of trust and faith
Until his head bursts on the rocks below.
He preached to his easily led flock:
Abortion is murder.
Niggers are animals.
Jews are evil and unclean.
Drugs cause all crime.
Sex before marriage is sinful and vile.
Obedience to your husband is the path to holiness.
All other religions are damned.
Muslims and Buddhists are terrorists and murderers.
Foreigners are stealing all our jobs.
The list of detestable preconceived trash never ends.
When the holy words come these words will be treated
As blasphemy deserving of the harshest punishment
And this author will become a fugitive.
I will be described as a scum dog God wants killed.
They know because God told the preacher directly
so he says
To hunt down and kill everyone like me
Because we let the babies die,
We have befriended the black peoples and the brown peoples
The yellow peoples and the red peoples
We have corrupted women into thinking willfully.
He preaches:
Kill the abortionists!
Kill the drug addicts!
Kill the minorities and burn their churches,
They’re only animal churches!
Take the rod to your wife and make her obey!
Kill the Satanic Jew cultists!
Kill for God!
Purify his perfect creation for the true race!
Good people fight this war!
Good white people!
The future:
His flock gives their amens,
“We have faith!
We believe!
We understand!
We will hate for God!
We will strike for God without hesitation!
We will kill as God has ordained!”
Do you really think we don't know?
spazim 4
My bible is a crystal clear stream
A breeze in tall pine trees
The cold air as it ushers in the night
The owls as the watch
and the things you hear
while you sleep and dream
under the stars
In this land of beauty
A breeze in tall pine trees
The cold air as it ushers in the night
The owls as the watch
and the things you hear
while you sleep and dream
under the stars
In this land of beauty
spazim 3
It's called faith
No matter what anyone else says
No matter what they believe
Even if it's not the same names
Even if it's not the same books
No matter what anyone else says
No matter what they believe
Even if it's not the same names
Even if it's not the same books
The Pain
Somebody said a mouthful
It wasn't enough to be tortured
and then truthful
They had to get some shit on television
To try to prove some loser was crazy
But instead there was a man upstairs with a plan
And the only words that came out were about
Losing face and losing the race
They said something about too many pain pills
And blistering funny good times
About how a guy might be a faggot
That's some great lines
Is it Fallon or should I say maggot?
Do you have any idea what could have happened?
What may have become of the boy you decided was guilty
and sentenced to hell and then execution
or vice versa, but it gets worse, a
trial without a jury, a noose for my neck because
I'm the guy who wouldn't hit the deck
While you shot your bullets over everybody else's heads
I said
No. Stop. What. Why. I didn't die?
So maybe I can make my mind fly
but there's still these people all around me
who care about me
and who I can't let be killed by your hatred
your violence, you're racism, your silence
as you assassinate me
just a normal guy
who was born into
never ever feeling victory
What the hell was this supposed to be?
Am I clear enough?
I'm just getting started.
I think I'll grab a cup of coffee
And talk to you about how you accused me of violence
While you snarled and snapped
And I couldn't even fight back
Because I'm supposed to be down on the ground begging for mercy
But I'm not
you can't hurt me
But you can hurt my family
Don't do that.
Please.
They are the only thing left for me.
It wasn't enough to be tortured
and then truthful
They had to get some shit on television
To try to prove some loser was crazy
But instead there was a man upstairs with a plan
And the only words that came out were about
Losing face and losing the race
They said something about too many pain pills
And blistering funny good times
About how a guy might be a faggot
That's some great lines
Is it Fallon or should I say maggot?
Do you have any idea what could have happened?
What may have become of the boy you decided was guilty
and sentenced to hell and then execution
or vice versa, but it gets worse, a
trial without a jury, a noose for my neck because
I'm the guy who wouldn't hit the deck
While you shot your bullets over everybody else's heads
I said
No. Stop. What. Why. I didn't die?
So maybe I can make my mind fly
but there's still these people all around me
who care about me
and who I can't let be killed by your hatred
your violence, you're racism, your silence
as you assassinate me
just a normal guy
who was born into
never ever feeling victory
What the hell was this supposed to be?
Am I clear enough?
I'm just getting started.
I think I'll grab a cup of coffee
And talk to you about how you accused me of violence
While you snarled and snapped
And I couldn't even fight back
Because I'm supposed to be down on the ground begging for mercy
But I'm not
you can't hurt me
But you can hurt my family
Don't do that.
Please.
They are the only thing left for me.
Pace
It's hard to keep up
There's been so much destruction
So many distractions
People sprawling on the floor
To keep from getting shot.
What do they have,
Those who have the guns,
That we do not?
They have a badge
Somebody gave them
While in our neighborhoods
We begged for enough money to eat
Because there were no jobs.
Now there is no city
We are down to the nitty gritty
Want to get out?
Huh? Do ya? Do ya?
It's been so long since you saw a gap in the wall
A tiny crack under the door
A tear dripping from the face of a crack whore
Something sensitive
Something that's real
Something that won't fail when you grab the rope
The lanyard
The raft
To jump the fence
To climb tall trees
What about my hands?
What should I do with these?
Is there truthfully a way out?
It could be just another fucked up joke
Down here where people have been laughing
and laughing, and you can't even buy the herb they smoke
That's funny
That friends are such good friends they won't even share the ends
Not a penny, not a nickel not a dime
It's what I expect all the time
Nobody cares about this man or his family
Or his life or his history
because in America it's all about power.
And while I have many words
The hand has struck the hour
There's no strength left in me so I cower
I don't know what to do
I will put my entire life into a single second
Rip it into shreds and put it back together
It's all I can gather
That maybe I would rather be free
Than stuck in some loser's history full of misery
When that miserable fluid flows
There's been so much destruction
So many distractions
People sprawling on the floor
To keep from getting shot.
What do they have,
Those who have the guns,
That we do not?
They have a badge
Somebody gave them
While in our neighborhoods
We begged for enough money to eat
Because there were no jobs.
Now there is no city
We are down to the nitty gritty
Want to get out?
Huh? Do ya? Do ya?
It's been so long since you saw a gap in the wall
A tiny crack under the door
A tear dripping from the face of a crack whore
Something sensitive
Something that's real
Something that won't fail when you grab the rope
The lanyard
The raft
To jump the fence
To climb tall trees
What about my hands?
What should I do with these?
Is there truthfully a way out?
It could be just another fucked up joke
Down here where people have been laughing
and laughing, and you can't even buy the herb they smoke
That's funny
That friends are such good friends they won't even share the ends
Not a penny, not a nickel not a dime
It's what I expect all the time
Nobody cares about this man or his family
Or his life or his history
because in America it's all about power.
And while I have many words
The hand has struck the hour
There's no strength left in me so I cower
I don't know what to do
I will put my entire life into a single second
Rip it into shreds and put it back together
It's all I can gather
That maybe I would rather be free
Than stuck in some loser's history full of misery
When that miserable fluid flows
The Strike
Strike
Incest uncovered
In violent political unrest?
Come again?
Once already never enough
A narration of political history
Lacking in innovation
Save for once every couple of decades
Ideas of self and self expression,
An articulate image of justice,
A dream in the sense of social mobility
And rule by law,
Crushed by the Nightmare Right
That strucktur that despises nonconformity
Words without limits
Ideas without boundaries
Members of the “open ended”
Lie shamelessly while attributing those to their victims
Another oligarchy with no conscience
Certain only that while the people will suffer
They will not.
They laugh like hyenas and scavenge like jackals
Roaming the land of dreams for meat
Or at least the land where imagination becomes unlimited
Tearing flesh from the bones
In triple layered codes of object class wrapper
Until the phone rings
And some guy made a movie
But it doesn't tell the story of what really happened
Like The Lion Sleeps Tonight or Tetris
Or Doom which was stolen from hell itself
Those fallen attempting to scale the inside of the jar
Had one brief moment of clarity
Before their minds shorted out
Food now for the insects
Job security for insecticides
The Law exists only to control the lower ranks.
There are just so many opportunities to make it.
It's so easy to become wealthy
In the land of the free
All our people must be lazy
Because all our people are poor
What could we be thinking?
The dream has mostly been a dream
While in the fields people still toil
Under the whip of slavery
Now called an industry
A fine weathered prison industry
Centuries old.
[[[I'm writing as fast as I can]]]
Incest uncovered
In violent political unrest?
Come again?
Once already never enough
A narration of political history
Lacking in innovation
Save for once every couple of decades
Ideas of self and self expression,
An articulate image of justice,
A dream in the sense of social mobility
And rule by law,
Crushed by the Nightmare Right
That strucktur that despises nonconformity
Words without limits
Ideas without boundaries
Members of the “open ended”
Lie shamelessly while attributing those to their victims
Another oligarchy with no conscience
Certain only that while the people will suffer
They will not.
They laugh like hyenas and scavenge like jackals
Roaming the land of dreams for meat
Or at least the land where imagination becomes unlimited
Tearing flesh from the bones
In triple layered codes of object class wrapper
Until the phone rings
And some guy made a movie
But it doesn't tell the story of what really happened
Like The Lion Sleeps Tonight or Tetris
Or Doom which was stolen from hell itself
Those fallen attempting to scale the inside of the jar
Had one brief moment of clarity
Before their minds shorted out
Food now for the insects
Job security for insecticides
The Law exists only to control the lower ranks.
There are just so many opportunities to make it.
It's so easy to become wealthy
In the land of the free
All our people must be lazy
Because all our people are poor
What could we be thinking?
The dream has mostly been a dream
While in the fields people still toil
Under the whip of slavery
Now called an industry
A fine weathered prison industry
Centuries old.
[[[I'm writing as fast as I can]]]
Not Really Wasting Time
[[I had to clean the house, which was badly neglected.]]
Plagiarism creeps into my dreams.
The judges spot it
And they have knives at their disposal.
There is no space to move stately
Asleep and uncertain at a lover’s side.
In relationships of ill defined importance
Are feverish and pained recollections of monsters.
Without the tincture of stricken heat
Certainty awakes at the boundary of sobriety.
Disaster lurks in conquering your conscious refusal to touch.
The god Shiva brandishes his arms.
He sends a message to future conquerors.
There is no room to stretch your ambitions beyond conjecture,
Even with hoards of topical knowledge on ancient culture.
Embedded in the nerves of your palms:
Despair of the ruined prize,
Most relished and hidden thought of the god.
Indian high crowned deity,
Lost in a sea of global entropy,
Let nothing like my adjectival nightmares enter your mind.
Shiva lurks in the mirror.
He waits on the other side,
And he torpidly forgives intelligence.
The stench of my mind stretching out too far,
Out of my body and out of the frame,
Expands,
Curls about the air before his gaze,
While Sphinx-like and forever still souls
Of almost dead drug addicts rise up see the look on my face
When I catch my first glimpse of hell.
Before my titanic caste
They prostrate themselves and beg for mercy.
Disgust of repetition should sicken the observer.
Only a tightened stomach
In the throes of nausea
Could give testimony about the event.
The mirror heals in the corner,
Just within the realm of reality.
And magical tapestries give eloquent bows
Just out of sight in the study.
How could this soul refuse
The noble sanctuary of dreamy opium
As long as memory of the thunder clap of wired fear still lives?
Perfection is greater in innocence,
And the stuff of youth rapidly diminishes.
With no return to someone waiting happily,
With nothing in the final assault on the self,
Heaven warm and welcome just out of reach,
You feel the chill of the space one must leap to leave the body,
Colder still the fall through the chasm never bridged.
There is no road to the home of time,
There is only a precipice and your courage.
The crags of the wind's true freedom
Might as well be hidden in your pockets.
You settle slowly down
Into sleeps of slow tided ocean wrapped destiny.
Conjunctive truth occurs far away from the ideal
But it does pursue definition.
You are asleep next to someone you do not know.
There is no room to move around.
The room closes in.
You give out a suffocated sound, and you think
That you have woken up
But all things that glitter are not gold.
Plagiarism creeps into my dreams.
The judges spot it
And they have knives at their disposal.
There is no space to move stately
Asleep and uncertain at a lover’s side.
In relationships of ill defined importance
Are feverish and pained recollections of monsters.
Without the tincture of stricken heat
Certainty awakes at the boundary of sobriety.
Disaster lurks in conquering your conscious refusal to touch.
The god Shiva brandishes his arms.
He sends a message to future conquerors.
There is no room to stretch your ambitions beyond conjecture,
Even with hoards of topical knowledge on ancient culture.
Embedded in the nerves of your palms:
Despair of the ruined prize,
Most relished and hidden thought of the god.
Indian high crowned deity,
Lost in a sea of global entropy,
Let nothing like my adjectival nightmares enter your mind.
Shiva lurks in the mirror.
He waits on the other side,
And he torpidly forgives intelligence.
The stench of my mind stretching out too far,
Out of my body and out of the frame,
Expands,
Curls about the air before his gaze,
While Sphinx-like and forever still souls
Of almost dead drug addicts rise up see the look on my face
When I catch my first glimpse of hell.
Before my titanic caste
They prostrate themselves and beg for mercy.
Disgust of repetition should sicken the observer.
Only a tightened stomach
In the throes of nausea
Could give testimony about the event.
The mirror heals in the corner,
Just within the realm of reality.
And magical tapestries give eloquent bows
Just out of sight in the study.
How could this soul refuse
The noble sanctuary of dreamy opium
As long as memory of the thunder clap of wired fear still lives?
Perfection is greater in innocence,
And the stuff of youth rapidly diminishes.
With no return to someone waiting happily,
With nothing in the final assault on the self,
Heaven warm and welcome just out of reach,
You feel the chill of the space one must leap to leave the body,
Colder still the fall through the chasm never bridged.
There is no road to the home of time,
There is only a precipice and your courage.
The crags of the wind's true freedom
Might as well be hidden in your pockets.
You settle slowly down
Into sleeps of slow tided ocean wrapped destiny.
Conjunctive truth occurs far away from the ideal
But it does pursue definition.
You are asleep next to someone you do not know.
There is no room to move around.
The room closes in.
You give out a suffocated sound, and you think
That you have woken up
But all things that glitter are not gold.
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