Amor Tristi

His love and hate are nearly the same.
Her love and lust are always mixed up.
Something that they love to see.
A generational tragedy.

Hear them now they gnash their teeth;
Waiting for the first misspeak.
Preying on the mass confusion,
Addicted to their choice illusions.

Saving face with frame of mind.
Memorizing cryptic lines.
Hypnotized but far from blind.
Separated from the sheep,
Though not looking over thee.
Gazing up at codes above
Acting as a duplex node.

Sometimes No one, sometimes All.
Sure as empires will fall,
With the rise of changing tides
Stay awake and keep alive.
May you rest and may you wake.
Consider all your spirits saved.


Victorium Solum

Of everlasting

ook-ha’d laughing.

Sweep the four, go.

Floor the Doormat.

New HighScore!

He walked and coughed and clocked and corfed.

Nined the oranges,

Got sevens to green.

Stuck in the race.

Between time and the dream.

Travels in switches.

We did not go fishing.

But Pissed on the dishes.

Swished so efficiently the swish switched to slishing.

Pleasing it is, when glitches bare gifts.

[please insert 25 cents to continue]

Just kidding next post coming soon.


Ars Gratia Artis Ad Victorium

Ars Pura for creation be the truest of the paths.
and crafts ad usum propium the self sufficient last.
Ad Untrumque Paratus we victors in both lives.
Addendum ad Valorem for the wealth of art and thy.

Semper anticus ad meloria toward the knowledge we may find.
May our goals remain eadem.
Not subject for to change.
And may our hearts remain Arden

Towards all beliefs thou claim.
Liber we remain and sursum we will aim
Sermo Tuus Veritas Est
and with thy word I serviam

and Si Vales Valeo to what love that I may find again.
Sic Infit! Sic Parvas Magna!
Sine metu, Sit nomine digna of that which I was given.
Tonight I rest with ease
For I know now I’ve been forgiven.




Temere Cognitiones

Thou who lauds be truest,

While that who measures soul in wealth

Be most ignorantly foolish.

Thy who tends thine spirit be the wealthiest of all.

He who grows his power has the mightiest of falls.

The game of life is not a game that we may play for keeps.

For when the time for death comes round we forfeit what we’ve earned.

All that we may bring is who we knew and what we learned.

Or So I’ve come to see, thus I’ll be ready when it’s time.

I’ve nothing to hold onto, No I’m not afraid to die.

Not that I am rushing my return unto The All

But life’s a lonely bore and I won’t miss much when death calls.

ergo It seems of late the best of times

Are when I’m not awake.

So never waking up

Sounds rather pleasant certain days.

I don’t want to come off as selfish for the live I’s given.

But I can’t shake the feeling that this world is carceram, prison!

I guess it didn’t always, but I’m not one to complain.

A bene placito life has done me well I’d say.

A contrario an emptiness does sit and swell inside

Since you’ve taken leave a mari duque as mare I sigh.

I have become a wretchful mess ab imo pectore

I know it’s all my fault I’m not sure whats left to say.

I am sorry ab intra still Absit invidia

I hope that you fair better than I have as of late.

Ad absurdum I march to see the madness in my fate

Even though I’ve pained I know it’s I that has done wrong.

This Actus Reus burdened long

and hence There were no words within his song

But the truth is that I’ve grown so shy Ive lost my voice.

Ad interim I guess I’ll pass the days with text in hand.

Often times it feels like I no longer have a choice.

I may have lost my track of where this poem had been going.

And I’m a bit uneasy of the feelings I’d been showing.

But my scattered brain it needs release from time to time,

It won’t always make sense but at least it always rhymes.

We find our Pedem Litterae where I may say goodbye,

To all that I have written as I send it toward the sky.

Occidere et Redire

First we see a proletariat
Poor and void of hope
Than you see a rich man
Who goes out in poor mans clothes.

Gambling dope and prostitutes
Are where his money goes.
How such tricksters sleep at night
The world may never know.

Next you see a holy man who’s getting by on bribes
After work you see him at the brothel getting high.
What a joyous world you see,
Deceptive is it not.

If only the world was have as nice
As the naive consumers thought.
Just like the US scientists
Who test their bombs abroad.

While islanders who used to call these wasteland islands home,
Were left to sit in starvation gaining cancers in their bones.
Tell me now was it worth the peoples eyes to know,
Just how many lives a bomb could ruin in one blow.

Mother earth has given us all what we think we own,
And that’s how we repay her and the planet we call home.
Our nuclear weapons could destroy the human race,
And ruin the whole planet,

Over trivial trade pacts,
Just so the aristocrats
Can play their stupid games.
Yet they say that were insane.
While they fiend like junkies
Over power and capital gain.

It seems the more destructive habits
Earn most respect,
Ruin all the lives you want
so long as you sign checks.

As long as money flows from you
Than do just as you please,
As long as you are richer
than the lives that you impede.

In a sick society
I’m glad to not be healthy,
I wish to take no part
In all that’s glamorous and wealthy.



Sub Terra Vivere

Twenty feet below the earth

The setting stretches through the dirt.

The view: a lively mountain town,

That rests above all those around.

Towering Mountains that scrape the skies,

Can be viewed from right outside

You see trees that line the backs

trailing towers of earthful wrath

Several towns scattered about

Linked by winding trailing paths.

Petere Medicinam

We are here and now is time,

We left our selves with broken mind.

Twelve bells sound upon the tower.

Thy was nowhere found.

Still they sing of aural power

Gained through countless toiled hours.

Gracefully they sang a blues

So lonesome it brought all to tears.

A screaming soul o wanting out

Was all that I had held to hear.

Freedom rings upon our death

And till that day we give our breath

This is all we’d hope to give.

Through the modest lives we live.

Labored words for labored eyes.

Savored truths, recycled lies.