Your relentless lust persists to resist,
words of encouragement are what’s in need.
They expect me to die by my slitting my wrists,
I know they are betting and smoking weed.
I’m mis-understood and under-estimated too,
I doubt this will change not even with you.
There is nothing you or anyone can do,
you can follow me down and never return too.
I do not think you will make it back home,
when I get what I need and hold you down.
It’s time to feast and I like to eat alone,
behind the Black Door in the dark part of town.
My weekend was tragic,
how was yours?
I had to get down,
on all fours.
Every one has a blast,
important meetings did make.
I was the last one to leave,
and to stop being fake.
You say I love you,
I think you are lying.
You think I’m happy,
I say I’m dying.
welcome to death the darling and dashing grin reeper gleened,
through very attractive masks with the enticing demotiv shy grin,
popular lore is wrong about transition it’s not at all what you believe,
we’ve been expecting your imminent arrival so do please come right on in.
here the choice is yours to choose heaven or hell and there’s no going word backs,
we grin reapers are here as your subconscious guides to give you the final choice tour,
please proceed beyond the red rope to the vip line for the transport to hell on the two way traxx,
your friends have been eagerly a waiting for your shadow because for what they ill you are the cure.
the car was wall to wall red velvet with plishy cushions for your recently transformed perfect ass,
drinks were served all the way down by a mile high qualifier and they tasted like a sweet quest,
when our gates to hell glided open there was a surprising bash of your favorite foie gras,
to your surprise with a dash of demise were faces just as you remembered them best.
instead of dark and deadly you see hot and sexy among rolling hills and cool clubs,
there is no fire or brimstone and instead more sin with perfect tone and lashes,
no teeth gnashing and instead they get to be dragged over ass & bare backs,
it’s all golf courses and hot tubs with scantily clad servant lads and lasses.
this doesn’t seem so bad you tell yourself as the drink begins its zings,
you finally begin to understand and sorta start to like the gleen grin.
because as far as you can see it really can’t get better than this,
everything ever wanted with just a taint of unforgivable sin.
just to be sure you have to check and take the rest of the tour,
the round trip traxx car was a little plain and nothing good was served,
as far as you are concerned nothing served shouldn’t be part of your de jour,
the door swished open and there was no welcome but you barely noticed or observed.
eventually you ask the grin reaper where’s saint-what’s-his-name and the answer is a shrug,
oh well you tell your self you are probably not staying anyway and splif just then they appeared.
welcome he said as he cracked open and fingered the reaper ‘he’s can’t look in here, he is a bad drug’.
you float right in like you own the space that you’re flying in but the air is smeared with something weird.
you tell yourself this is kinda cool with weightless decisions & an aerial view not possible down there,
just as your second guess is coming something crazy happens that makes the final decision easy,
everyone you know that wasn’t down there standing in rows that looks like a triangle sphere,
they too appear just as you remember them with anger glowing eyes and looks of queezy.
The first few rows are who loved you and they all have their heads bowed in disgrace,
the rest held high heads because they’ve been waiting as long as the friends below,
the rows behind hold those whom you lied and who lost in your one person race,
the long row in back are those you royally fucked over just a short time ago.
to hell with us you say to your guide and check back in your temp wing,
the air up here if filled with fear and there is not not much to do here.
then the ones you stole emotions from started to cheer and sing,
in decent you sensed something different in the form of a tear.
the car disappeared and replaced with a caged cargo elevator,
the only button to press is down and it’s always the right size,
you wet yourself seeing that your greeter was hell’s mayor,
always try to choose your friends and muses very wise.
If a mind can be twisted it can surly be mended,
not by those who have to gain what you are about to lose.
Doctors, therapists and psychiatrists are bended,
treating something like its broken when its really a bruise.
Just because you’re hearing voices and seeing a new thing,
that doesn’t mean you are deficient like they want you to believe.
Doctors are only partially right 100% of the time they ping,
when asked most will only recite what the dsm labels your reprieve.
Why is it that drugs that let us feel good instantly,
are made by and large expensive and illegal?
The drugs that they are not sure what they do,
most cause anhedonia but are considered noble and legal.
Why does is seem from their limited perspective,
they are the ones that know what to do.
They are only there to see everyone at their worst,
and are never around for the normal part deux.
Too many of them and too few of us,
for anything like effective mind recovery.
People are nothing more to many of them,
than one step closer to their next big discovery.
They’re here to heal but don’t really understand how,
offering all of their empty help our minds can now sing?
DBSA and the NAMI groups perpetuate a familiar lie,
that everyone is somewhat sick and can’t do anything .
Schizophrenic this and bipolar that and lets not forget depression,
they only focus on what to call all of the others.
I wonder how they would like to be labeled in negative regression,
by all of our disenfranchised sisters and brothers.
Only deal with those who prove themselves,
to be your personalized recovery practitioner.
If they say there is no such thing on their shelves,
then they’re nothing more than a drug dealing executioner.
Learn more here
If you don’t believe me just ask marzia
the alligence to status has crippled you all
everything i own is tattered and on its last wow
no parties to attend at a nice big or small house
the ledge of a bridge or edge of a switchblade symphony
do this or do that and this may or may not be relunctently
it is the week before birthdeathday and i feel like such a louse
the opportunity cost of the other is missing the wow of the now
i killed myself a thousand times today and again nobody to call
years’ empty and meaninglessness is only eclipsed by pain ultravira.
Getting fucked in the ass again is my specialty and i’m not even gay
the way to feel love has been long lost and somewhat long forgotten
your truth is not the whole truth or anything resembling a neo-state
smile to my face and lie to me while unbuttoning your red blouse
patiently waiting for my reign of existence to unfold into ribbons
i am reading for the whole truth but only get bits and smidgens
useless advise and cautionary warnings that are insults to a mouse
in the book of lairs they choose a picture of something like a primate
you finger the truth just long enough to turn it into something re-rotten
future predicting is how they decide on whether or not to decide to stay.
living in the poetry capital of the world and even a passing rolling stone
tis the season to question life and the existence it brings before intuition
the pleasure you offer is nothing compared to the worst of my pain de jour
the Other is time spent projecting on the thoughts and actions then expire
nobody knows who i totally am and nor do they want to after close inspection
the knockings are about to begin and this i know because of legal introspection
showing weakness to the wrong woman is like showing fresh blood to a vampire
the role you play on the life stage is to enjoy pointing others in through the out door
saying and doing whatever you want because you think you can be everyone’s volition
it’s the time of the year of celebration for the united and reckoning for those of us alone.
i would jump off the golden gate bridge but with my black luck i would probably live
i feel as if there is something to offer society but there is none that really want me
they find my weak spots and grind them with cutting comments peppered with salt
nobody ever misses me except strangers and those seeking ideas and the sublime
time warps on one relative track and does not reverse or repeat on the absolute other
we would love to get involved but we’re to busy doing nothing with your long lost lover
there is only one reality for each of us and unfortunately for me she was part of mine
when something good falls in my lap there is effeminately someone like them to take it
it’s been such an unpleasure to to meet the real you and see all of my fears pleasantly
all thoughts are electro-chemical and have both an emotional and intellectual aethersive.
Just because you can read a clock does not mean you understand time or how it works
i want to open the veins in my wrists or dangle at the end of a rope or step onto the track
i’m way to nice and always give everything away till there is nothing left at the end for me
what if all your dreams were like mine and when they came true were nightmares instead
the quantum essence of our thoughts commingle within the circulating flow of the aether red
if you see through my eyes you will never again smile and all humans will become undead
a mouth full of cockroaches would be preferred than the feeling after being inside your head
why would we want them when there is joy without others that is easy for us to almost see
it’s as if i just finished swimming across the ocean and with one day rest have to swim back
we’re always in the state of inner panic and likely like something resembling the murky murks.
The rumor mill is grinding away at your bones the dust is used to build walls around your stay
crippled with no interest to live and when i sit down to write the list there is a little of a something
do you really want to live more than one life if the one you are living now completely fucking sucks
i never speak to strangers anymore and saying i love you only evokes a diminishing giggle with nod
one of the only reasons i don’t want to die is because i know how happy it will make some people
if our minds are turned into the correct frequency we will experience why we relatively are not people
if there ever was a woman who could light the fire of my mind and body i am sure she is a dark mod
there is no group who wants me around as i am incapable of conventional interaction or sucking fucks
the answer to the question is the same when asked of my plans and they are always the same nothing
thanks but no thanks now that we’ve used you we no longer need but thanks for all of your help anyway.
i am really not writing much right now because the tourchering of myself has been taken over by eminent death
haven not seen a starry night in years because i rarely leave a one mile radius of the big city lights of san francisco
this is the first part with part two being the first ten parts being rearranged and edited to rhyme hopefully andor eloquently
every week gets much worse and much worse it gets i assure you naturally without any interference from you or any spirit
belief fulfills expectations and the slowing of energy flow compounds inspiration and absence of self something compared
only the lonely could understand that lonely when you write your suicide note and there is nobody left whom to address it too
time experienced has two parts that are at rest over the square of one minus velocity divided by light speed both squared
light is a particle and wave that bends throught time and space at a very raped pace wit your each and every movement
then when you are alone with them you really care viciously with your gossip and upward social networking conspiracy
it’s the season to be alone and forgotten though there may be a roof over my head but i wouldn’t call home a disco
it’s 3am and sleep is distant as the real is coming back and lucky for me the doom and gloom are still ultramyth.
While millions are celebrating unreality with glee there are tens of thousands more who want to die like me
now sitting at my favorite cross corners of columbus and broadway watching the people with others go by
if you’ve ever placed a magnet near a cuompass you should understand the power of negative sophic blab
one could not mistaken my existence for living and when time is it anyway to say farewell to the stay
anything that should be said can be said in a a rhyming poem or phrases that make sense or sense
imagine having your hands tied behind your back being kicked repeatedly in the groin very intense
i lay in my wooden basket nightly petrified with fear expecting that any moment they will be at bay
the only people who are watching my back are those who picking out their favorite spot to stab
my shower runs only once in a while and there is no one around who cares about or sees why
because your gaze is painful i have learned to avoid eye contact at all the times that i see.
Our subconscious is steaming words on a steady flow but i’ve been paralyzed with real fear
sculpting with words my perfect counterpart only to have them edited with unclear reality
what you would do if you knew that every response you ever receive is translucent
look around and what do you see except nobody standing or sitting next to me
when the game is over and i’ve already lost is it too late to throw in the know
transubstantiation is how we connect to the collective cerebral under-tow
today’s the worst day of my life and tomorrow is expected much worse to be
the only surprise you will ever receive are those give with something reluctant
it’s rare for me to speak to anyone’s face for more than a few times specifically
what is in the space in between the pre and post synaptic nerve centers are clear.
December is always empty for me with nothing to do and no more big parties
how much time do you spend thinking about the future actions of the others
every meal is eaten as if it may be the last because it very well may be
family and friends are things of the past with our name on no guest lists
feeling like the elephant man with a highly contagious form of leprosy
running on empty and so lonely they feel terrible for the you that’s me
kind-of-makes sense is usually good enough for me and the one twist
downward spiral is all i know and it knows me back very eloquently
their bed is full of my truth while my pillow only cry’s and smothers
jealousy fills my emotionless void when i read all the obituaries.
I usually break their hearts,
buy not wanting to bed them again.
Ruining this that and all the parts,
again and again and again.
I really want to die right now,
just thought I’d mention.
But the thought of your own suicide,
gives me hope for redemption.
It will be hard to keep you in my sites,
after you do it to yourself.
It’s my turn next by rights,
there will be nothing else to live for myself.
I hear the angels begin to sing,
when you pick up my gun.
But you’re not fooling anyone in our ring,
we know you’re just having fun.
Please call me,
before you kill yourself.
I’ll bring you black roses,
and a knife from my shelf.
I don’t wish you dead,
but never alive.
When you are gone,
everything will thrive.
Please do it now,
we’re all waiting.
When your heart stops,
there’ll be no more hating.
I took a shower in your blood,
under the moon lit sky.
The stars and planets they said please,
we split you up like a cheap apple pie.
Except the black whole who we promised you soul,
is sitting there and waiting.
When we are done it’s time for his fun,
then begins the hating.
You can’t escape or do anything,
for most of eternity.
When you’re done you’re not finished yet,
it’s time for the next galaxy.
I enjoyed the silence,
of your last breath.
I came wearing red,
to celebrate your death.
You are useless here,
as you were in your life.
Now I can breath,
and be rid of your strife.
You can’t go elsewhere,
don’t even try.
You’re nothing but air,
up in the sky.
I’m here to serenade you with the letters,
I’ve written as you recently requested.
The fuzzy line between you and me,
just went quantum with what you be-quested.
I know it’s that bad and I’ve been there myself,
many times before in another life full of strife.
The end is not the answer we’re searching for now,
until fully experiencing the roller coaster of this life.
I know you were expecting only one for you,
mine must come as quite a pleasant surprise.
It wrote itself to the music as I wrote yours,
two little suicide notes dancing in reprise.
I know you wouldn’t do it because you’re not through yet,
with yourself or me until you let you want too be.
I can’t let you in good conscious do yourself this way,
you even had me write the note that blames your death on me.
Whatever the reason time or place you come to the very end,
it is going to be in the cradle of my arms or not or ever at all.
If you throw yourself or jump off of this very steep cliff,
I’m going to jump after and catch you before the end of our fall.
Published online by:
dead beat poet 