are we mutually exclusive illusions?

more and more i hear the fake rage, which makes me wonder, why the pretense? is it fashionable to lose your cool? to become savages and satisfy the inner fool? but all these young ones do they really understand? maybe war should come, for us to progress from our decadence.... foolish and weak while the self-righteous are oh so pompous. stupid bitches

hey lady

hey lady, when you see little ones dreaming, do you -
sigh and think of the might-bes? or scorn their light dreams?
for youth has no weight, an eternal mouth gaping
while old hunches, torn by so very many...
we are the soul, heart and ego
excited, exploring every turn and crying
for every still-born baby till
the significance was lost, hey lady,
do you still look to the skies and gasp in surprise?
rush for the first bus that comes to take you away
always away, greener pastures see
as time passes, we see, that things ain't what they seem
take a glass, another, till we're all just tipsy
when we can all just forget, ...hey lady?

the emperor's right

this is mine, divined and impetuous
a law that is as much belief and thirst
sooner speak out than to swallow my words
righteous, right?
in awe of this light turned sight
but i speak of poetic justice, eternal
the flowless; no-god; rejected from the cosmos
i and only i, there is no try
is what it is, there is no why
the mark of royalty sticks on like tattoos
but the spear came, from within, i muttered
'et tu?'

the red fever

you let yourself be cloaked in..
full red, obvious and boastful
a cannibal couldn't care less who he eats though
shed the cocoon, you vain half-form
to maintain your beauty, traits of the spiteful last born
but when danger comes, who you gonna call?
you're dead sister, the red fever's got you lost

inglourious basterds

we fight for pride, but discard so carelessly
the gift of life, you ask... its heresy!
so a french dies, with scalps on
while Nazi swastikas laugh on...
the ashes and the smoky flames,
paint a picture, et tu? italians blast first
so live on! instead of death, invoke courage
you inglourious basterds

on despair

i feel irritated with angry voices,
who scream, rant and rave, righteous and boisterous
but for those who listen.. you'll hear
a false war-cry upon what they fear

sticks and stones, worse still unbreakable bones
they fake an image, imagine, scream!
world upon their shoulders,
modern atlases upon rat hearses..
with virtues as fronts for black purposes

their cries grow hoarse, irk - disgusting but apt
so do peoples find emotions to fill this gap
on the attack, easier to destroy than to build
they can't grasp, can't rest.. pawns in this internal feud

a clue for you, the ego speaks of deep instincts
which goes against which beliefs then?

freudian philosophers may frown upon this bridge
but what i feel is that the internal is this lever
while the eternal breaks, but can't express..
what i want to hear - distress, not hate
a cry, that bares, what i want is... real despair

on genius

unnoticed, he scribes quietly
the art captivates, his whole soul put
without fear of baring, unbridled glee
rather die fast than go silently

and the second smiles, laughing at this poor fool
what does he know? fake prophets and false truths?
god is not metaphysical,
a paradox, which doesn't exist
so if you subscribe to god's will, you shall not kiss
that virgin which you scribe of,
truth
eternally untouched, the forbidden fruit
but don't forget, metaphors run true

he touches his pen, o' deep philosophical words
gibberish with no meanin', and apostrophes that jerk
your random references have no depth
but some men dive still, into its traps

yet another watches on, with no comment
empty vessels and broken noises speak more than he can
you lie! a bold exclamation
hypocrisy bears its teeth at every resurrection
for that is the essence of rebirth.. isn't it?

the first just writes on, unperturbed
driven by Athena's light, he runs berserk
through the familiar words, solace at long last
but rest not weary traveler, for your zenith has gone past

in the mind


the cold breeze passes
faster, ever faster
eternally the passer
-by,

is it really so sad?
for what was, never comes back
and relief is a torment
that has to forget

and the leaves follow
empty and hollow
to reflect upon
self-inflicted sorrow

hot summer heat waves
hated, but spring craves
for fire, like a winter gaze
upon fireworks of autumn days

so as it was, a lasting quarrel
imagined, frantic,
do we still have the courage
to look to the morrow?


the piano player


his long fingers arch
beautiful form that marks
skill, for such
are days that gloss
is worth more than art

crescendo, fingers sculpting
a piece, but too many
do not understand what that means

scores are interpretations
but music these days
are bereft of imagination
all i hear are echoes
of long lost souls

is it so hard to dare?
conditioned we are, to enter no lair
though the self-invited are elect
but such men are selfish and rare

a man or tree?

the trees struggle eternally for life, but is it life worth living
if they have no conscious? or are we judging them by our beliefs
which are entirely wrong, and don't apply to other species?
is earth a reality? and are our sciences wrong? weight and height? is it measurable?
even if it is, are our measurements accurate?
and who's to judge accuracy? our lives are suffering? or should we give thanks...




vines growing, ever searching upwards
eternally; that's their fate for survival.. darkest
night shall never stop it, the dawn brings hope
but if it were a mirror, wish that the gone had spoke
tellin' tales of how its nice and warm up there, where eternal lives
but while we breathe, orange; like them autumn leaves
and that's the color of our story, the last beams of light
rebelliously shine through, and we strive to keep
but you fail! as we all do, ever so porous we let live seep
out of us, its a daily routine... and we weep
but do you hear? no! reluctantly we shed the skin
laid bare for the world to see, covered in shame
for we are not good enough, that's what we think
eternally; that's our opinion of everything
criticize the world just to feel a little bit better
but the cutting chill comes with the weather
and its our retribution, our mirror which is cracked
jagged and threatenin', the shape of man distorted
tormented in many ways, we shut our eyes, pretend
many ostriches with heads stuck deep in the sand
ha! our lust for ourselves to be elevated, life on a pedestal
really not what it seems; birds shit on our dreams
and we provide shelter for them, a respite from harsh reality
this recipe for treachery, oh! new tragedies...
and summer comes, with it, a new dawn sings
beautiful tunes, praises i guess it must mean
eternally; livin' in hope that we are important
that's how we can stand to bear the weight on our shoulders
self-imagined, the leaves grow and spurt out
like them burdens, who must not hurt now
standin' in the sun, posing like foolish kids
but that's not us, for we are only trees!

new song

was watching a youtube of neda being shot dead
this world is so fucked
and we are all the more fucked up for allowing it
being desentisized and prideful
which blinds and turns us into scumbags
and that is why i hate all humans


over in iran, a little girl is awoken,
by cries of protests, one which will never be broken
the peoples have had it, we are sick of facism!
disgusting how they creates rules but not practise them
and you turn your face away, its not of your concern you say
but if it happens to them, it can happen to you one day
a country in which you get shot for expressing your opinions
and other countries hate your sex, hated for being females
what is this world? and do we know where are we going to?
are we gonna stand here and hear the soundtrack of our doom?
are we going to be helpless, while other peoples fight?
are we going to stand by and watch other peoples cry?
i've heard neda was her name, and she was standing on a street
shot through the heart, bullet blasted to bits
inside of her body, and dead within two fucking minutes
a doctor rushed there, and his friend filmed down the deed


you see life and death, but i see only the death of dreams
we once prided ourselves on democracy, thats gone it seems
the world is more concerned over the workings of money
and the peoples, conditioned to leadership, its not funny
she stares at us, those eyes full of hatred but no life
as if warning us, let this death be the final price
and it makes us more determined, to bring down this country
they say the votes weren't faked, fuck them ya hear me!
the secret police come knocking, i knew and predicted it
but i still hope her cry for help will not be forsaken!
thats what this song was for, and the ones who feel me
the media outlets can be friend, but foe also you see
they would sooner protect their cause because its over yours
and if it sells, all the better, all morals are lost
and it suits them now, for a revolution to propogade
the needs for a superpower, the need for foreign aid