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THE WALKING DEAD the radio exploded like a thousand times before with the banal boring banter of the morning dj wars the sunlight seeped between the slats which never fully close he negotiated pathways through the piles of dirty clothes she didn't stir didn't see the look of disgust that the years had hewn into his face without memory of the prior moment he was out the door numbed by the motor and the music which could barely reach him now he knew he was a victim but could not identify the crimes which had put his dreams to rest resignation was so effortless and criterion by which he joined the walking dead there was no evening whistle which gave signal to go home but the slowly shuffling masses huddled in the shuttle's drone toting them to autos which they knew needed to be fixed but functioned as good metaphors broken down but still exist unconsciously he turned the key didn't ponder the nothingness which passively he had become without memory of the day's events he came in through the door and within hours he slept dreamless like a thousand times before REAL i'm choking on hypocrisy a squalid swollen seed you gorge on unimportant and starve on what you need i've had enough of christmas sales and tributes to the dead enough of scandalous details on which you all are fed so soaps and talk shows get you off the spectacle of pain and while your children kill their friends you tell me who's to blame give me something real to see children without guns give me something real to hear laughter drunk in fun give me something real to hold hands which shed no blood give me something real to know my children will grow up please shield me from the misery thrust at me from the tube the rusty sword of suffering packaged poison doom so knives and courtrooms get you off celebrity and fame and wide-eyed you sit hypnotized to feed on other's shame CHILDREN WITHOUT INNOCENCE depart from me you puppets of society I never knew you and you never knew me rapt in the trap of triviality never worry about the deeper things I envy you in much the way I envy the innocence of childhood children without innocence bodies without bounds bent to fill your bellies amuse amaze astound children without innocence you never did progress from bubble gum to bread and wine from dreams to consciousness depart from me you seekers of celebrity I never knew you and you never knew me fed and the dead on mediocrity never concerned about tomorrow's breath there's beauty in such carelessness the flight and innocence of childhood FACADE AND CHARADE are we the best of the worst or the worst of the best either way we're average goats like the rest telling myself that i'm something i'm not certainly the somebody i'd planned facing the world with someone else's face it's not mine but i guess it'll do facade and charade and hoping to god that it gets us by facade and charade a wink and a nod and ignoring the lie facade and charade and onward we plod without any thought that while we're deceiving we start believing and ourselves are we the last of the race or a race to the last either way we'll soon be oil or at least some thing lasts portraying myself as something i'm not certainly not the me i promised you walking this life in someone else's shoes they're too big but i guess they will do I BLINKED i blinked and things had changed the carefree child was now a man a house a job a life i really couldn't stand the only things meaningful were you the kids and the father but even these were colorless translucent images of what i'd known i blinked and things had changed the plans i'd made now distant dreams unfulfilled undone unglued at fraying fragile seams the only things meaningful were you the kids and the son and lashing out could not break down the opaque walls of life unrealized i blinked and things had changed the ones I never knew were dear to me i'd cursed i'd hurt i'd left i'd let them down all down the only things meaningful were you the kids and the comforter i'm sorry only goes so far transparent after all i'd done THE WINKING DEAD the radio was silent but he woke up just the same and his chest was heaving madly but no dreams were to be blamed no dreams PECULIAR PEOPLE? are we peculiar people never quite satisfied judging peculiar brothers blind to the crucified failing to grasp the wisdom on which our hopes rely are we peculiar people HABIT WITHOUT HEART I don't believe in much I used to believe in less and the mixing of lewis heinlein and poe leaves a pretty fine mess the few times we speak anymore habit without heart I still believe it's part of me but i'm bitter disillusioned angry and ready for venting in some vain display habit without heart pretense as an art absurdities of life have won habit without heart perhaps too late to start to change the little patterns that get deeper every day I don't believe in much I wish I believed in more but the ancient uttered phrase and my nihilistic ways like water and oil accord the few times I'm there anymore habit without heart I still love you you're part of me but i'm searching not finding losing and ready for venting in some vain display I TURN MY BACK ON YOU you give me life water above you pour it on when i'm thirsty for love you show me light lamps at my feet patterns and mysteries perfectly complete I turn my back on you you give me life wine manna doves you fill me up when i'm hungry for love you give me hope days beyond days mansions of brilliance a glorious gaze I turn my back on you CATATONIA it seems to be that the only peace for me is a place I used to go when I was but a boy and aslan is there and there's lazarus long and the raven's lone song it's a world in between things of shadows and dreams where I go it seems you cannot come it seems to be that the only peace for me is a place I used to go to hide from things unknown it's not in the world where they cut you and kill you and still make you pay and heaven it's not for the gun's on the table peculiar unable to sever the hope it seems to be that the only peace for me is a place to touch my dreams free from the passive screams but safety it's not and to go there I know is to forfeit control an immutable choice for i've been here before and each time a smaller door and age is no key THE JUDGMENT I dreamed of the judgment and saw the polar regions the cold smug lips of the evil one loomed hungry in dark caverns grey the mournful eyes of the father were vainly searching for someone a humble penitent perhaps a resident I dreamed of the judgment and glimpsed the faceless faces the wasted hulls of the desperate emblazoned in dark caverns grey and those of confident countenance more than conquerors ransomed peculiar golden hues conspicuously few I walked with numerous goats with weeping and wailing and empty apologies drops trying to stop in an ocean of motion herded along towards promised rewards a river of lightning divided the sky for whom I can't tell but I started to cry the heavens the tempest raged brighter than man I ask myself what is man I ask myself what is sin and who denies that history decides who is the killer and who is the king and is there a standard by which we can measure if taking a life is a terrible thing I dreamed of the judgment and felt the breath of wisdom and on a tree was a mystery with nails etched deeper than dreams and though the message was simple so many felt it was nonsense and I admit at first it seemed a useless verse I dreamed of the judgment to me a revelation and truths which years had forgotten were girded about me in gold and resignation took effort for pride is slow to surrender and what did the tree tell we're not here for ourselves PECULIAR PEOPLE it's evident we don't belong all we like sheep among the wolves prey for all our predators their savory stinging salt we are peculiar people in unfamiliar lands waiting on homes celestial counting on pre-laid plans learning to trust a wisdom we don't yet understand we never were too good at it to emulate the walking dead yet hope to all the terminal remission of disease AWAKE but really i'm never alone even in my deepest room there's a presence I cannot deny here within cerebral tombs why all the suffering why the pretense why the lapse in my defense the faithful are falling in pain I resign to a cathartic pause from life if I awake will you be here deep down I know you always are my tears can't wash away my pain but maybe they'll melt through the charade to reveal the man I am I guess they were there all along the elusive golden rings but we spend so much time thinking deeply on shallow things what really matters what matters most as a guest I ask the host meaning to it all meaning is there none or is it just thy will be done THE WAKING DEAD the radio exploded like it never had before and like morning to the hopeful rose a thousand open doors |