Friday, May 29, 2009

I know you
You think in headlines
In stark, bold print on the front of newspapers
A few sensational characters summing up an eternity of opinions and truths
None (despite your press)
W(holy)(sic) wrong or right

I know your enemy
Both wronged and wrong
Another in a long line of brainwashed prayer junkies
Hooked on blessed afterlife uppers
Buzzed enough to excuse any atrocity in the name of the
One great fix

The sustained ennui and hopeless struggle of a de-valued life excused and accounted
for
In the name of you know whom.
So go on then

Fire a gun
Launch a rocket
Drop a bomb
Cure nothing by creating an absence of everything

Might is right after all
BUT REMEMBER

The victor must be able to live with himself in the righteous glare of his success……

And I will be success.

Mania

A face as white as yours,
With lips as red as a bloody stab wound,
An injury caused by providence
Only hurting male onlookers
Through the pain of want
But never you..

Your eyes are blue as a desert sky,
They exist only to torment me.
With more precision than the most skilled and
Enthusiastic misanthrope
You inflict unendurable longing and deep, ebbing pain
To my already wounded and naive hubris

You don't recogise me.

But what I cannot have,
I will not recognize
For there is no point
If my will cannot triumph.

A thousand times I say
the last time my being will be devoured and digested
that was.

For sure. For certain. This time my indepence is for keeps.

But as you well know I always come back for more
And try as I might
There will never be a complete release from the prison of my infatuation

I am caged.
You are my keeper.

You are a foxymoron
And I am a lame bloodhound.
Baying at the injustice of it all

Do you see it too?
Just for you I have developed this mania.

The pure hatred of love.

Something wicked this way...

A thought like this
well it gets me
y'know?

I was already...
when i woke up
y'know?

Now theres a hardness
that i need to...
y'know?

explode explode explode!

The title of this poem is much longer than the actual poem itself

See.

I told you.