All In Vain

It is only in tainted soil that dark seeds may grow
On that steady diet of hatred, malice, and pain….
Seedling fights through dirt, stifled, harmed
Growth always stunted, always twisted….
Through perseverance evil takes its toll
Then life breaks the surface, into blinding sun
Only to discover….
Its work is never done

The threat looms on, the survival
Striving, hating, pushing
Forcing when all chance is gone…
Fighting forever more,
Dying pleasantly in vain
Accepting for once,
That living is but pain.

I realize that my poetry sucks, hence the label “horrible poetry”. I’m not much of a poet, but it’s nice to get this crap out of my head for awhile. I don’t know where this came from, maybe just from the fact that life is so pointless and such a struggle, yet people still go through with it for reasons that to me seem so completely useless. Love nothing, believe in no one. You are all alone. That is truth.

Never What it Seems.

Don’t ask me about this; I don’t know. I can’t say where it came for or why. I also can’t say if it makes sense or not, as what would I know? I’m half asleep and feeling rather…philosophical. And I’m frustrated that my brain can’t seem to keep up with the whirlpool of ideas flowing around in there…. I hate it when that happens. And I guess I can mention, I’m caught between depression and simply not giving a flying fuck, and apparently this is the creation born of such evil. Parts of it definitely suck, and probably mean absolutely nothing to the reader, but what the hell, I’m going to post it anyway then go fall asleep and NOT dream about black widow spiders. And if I do, I’m getting out a fucking blowtorch. Motherfucking spiders—sure the hell showed them in that dream though. Quite the crispy critters. Anyway, on with it….

Shining, reflective,
Sheets of metallic lies
Even the camera cannot hide it all
Not that inevitable dead in my eyes

There is an edge to that darkness,
Of this no one will speak
An emotion beyond comprehension,
That only the insane would seek

Beyond that edge, that cliffside,
Many things will be shown
All those burning questions…
The seeds of understanding finally sewn

In vain the world tears at threads,
The masterpiece of creation seen in sullied fragments
All too foolish to understand,
A life spent in painted lies rather than laments

A universe beyond lies, beyond feeling beyond sense,
Nature nurtures this eternal unrest
The way of things, the only true bias
In all of this suffering is balance, not test

It is in this thing that there is truth,
The one piece cast aside
The gold amongst the rotten trash,
It is not in “good” as they all lied

There is an end to darkness,
A place beyond this insanity
The rogue, the heretic,
The final Fall of the calamity

Crashing down to earth,
For once things become clear
I was never what I seemed;
I am not this person in the mirror

In case anyone actually reads this post, it’s basically about “darkness”, be it depression, evil, whatever, and how it causes one to come to certain…understandings about the world around them. People don’t like it, shun it even, because they are afraid of truth—it shatters ideals and reveals the world to be ugly rather than beautiful. I guess this is my sad attempt at trying to say that I’m doing my best to accept that ugliness and even learn and grow because of it. Ugly has always been beautiful to me after all; it is only in this brokenness that I can even exist at all. Bitterness keeps me alive, I know that now. It was never hope.

In time all things will pass away.

Pain builds up so wretched and slow,
A happy heart I’ll never know
Only that clenching, that justified ache
Is there to remind me of the mistakes I continue to make
Forever is too long a time
Even a few years is over the line
To stop and to breathe
All this thinking makes me seethe
It’s too bad I can’t go back,
Somehow give myself all of those emotions I lack

I haven’t been able to write anything poetic in months. It’s nice to get those words out without feeling like I scraped and chiseled them off of the top of my brain. Painless, for once. I don’t really have any words today beyond what was already said, so I’ll use someone else’s.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Su8Zh4rhUY

I’ve been playing that song over and over on my headphones; I guess because I like how it waves death in the listener’s face. With this video version, I love the part where Mark Collie finally puts down the cigarrette to finish the last bit of the song (and I love the spur of the moment atmosphere otherwise). It just gets to the point where you get so used to something that it is as simple as tying your shoes or brushing your teeth. I wish that my writing could become that way, maybe with enough practice.

This is uninspired.

Human speech taints clear air
Sounds that should never have been heard
Nothing but pollution of everything sacred
Desecration of everything I hold dear
Corrupted things are given devious tools
They use and abuse, simply by being alive
Those voices so shrill, so imperfect
Lies that spill from foolish minds
A gift that wasn’t deserved
The solution is to seal them shut
Sew closed those grotesque mouths
Never to speak again

People talk and talk. It drives me up the wall sometimes. They don’t seem to understand just how much stupid words can ruin a moment that would have otherwise been flawless. I suppose that is the way of people though: to see nothing of their own shortcomings, nothing of their own gracelessness. Nothing compares to silence…nothing.

Hatred stinks of evil they say
It drips the blood of the ages
An ancient tool, worn, well used
The weapon that absorbs all souls
It controls, it twists
Even the wielder can not escape its grasp
Hatred will outlive all things

I don’t know where any of this poetry is going; I’ve had horrible writer’s block lately. Nothing I write is up to any sort of standard. I’m hating every line of poetry I manage to extract from the chaos…. I feel as though my writing is at its absolute worst. The words don’t flow, and I struggle with every little line. I hate this state of being. It makes me feel worse than ever, but I had to write something “creative” anyway, because otherwise I may just…explode. So to hell with good writing! If I want to write shit, I shall! And I won’t be stopped either….

Ugly on the inside.

More poetry from me. Laziness and a lack of concern prevent me from genuinely giving a shit whether or not any of it makes sense or even flows well together. Sorry. I just want to write, and I don’t care about what. I’m impatient as hell when it comes to poetry; I just like it because I can leave esoteric thoughts without explanation.

Losing definition
A place where there seems to be no such thing
Blurs, fuzzy edges
I need a new prescription for my mind
Holes through everything
That’s the only piece of clarity
My mistakes, my flaws…
They are all I can see.

””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””

Useless, forgotten
Granted dreams I never wanted
Losing sense of sanity, I crumble
Yet it is in insanity that the world’s words dull to a mumble
Only now do my own dreams become clear
Now I can see my true reflection in the mirror
The loss of distortions
Hate has made “just kill yourself” a personal mission
Each lie makes inclination stronger
Internally I struggle to live a little longer
Now I live to fight the monster
Silence in my mind will tell me when there is a martyr
I must select a side
Damn the voices that try to drown me in black tide…
Even in death I am the bloody battleground.

I’m very tired. I spent the night having nightmares. One in particular, my only friend, my cat, got hit by a truck…along with some made up friend in the dream. Fuck the friend, I went straight for my cat and picked him up. He was barely breathing, and I could feel some of his ribs pushed downward inside, crushing him beneath his black fur. He was really hurting…and I had the thought of putting him out of his misery (which ALWAYS happens in those types of dreams for me; I kill something to prevent further suffering, a lot like I want to do to myself). Then I woke up, went back to sleep and had another nightmare about being raped. Oh thank you for the break, wonderful mind of mine! I thoroughly enjoyed your sick fucking joke. Go to hell. Even in dreams it won’t break me.

Gods are people that are cleverly selfish; gods are things of deceit

Each moral is a vanity,
Every law a lie
There is no such thing as happiness
Settle for violent discontent
Everyone vies for first touch; the corruption of innocence
All is to my distaste

The desires are truly a pursuit of life
Abstinence is a wish for death
Every pretty little lie makes me stronger;
It is the world I wish to contaminate

Those people so contemptible
Stand by and swallow my lies
Serve the one that blasphemes the best
Let me sever all of your useless ties
Now build me up to be your martyr, your new dutiful God
Betray my trust, tear down my loyalty
Watch as your God dies

Lick the red from the dirt
Gaze upon my dead eyes
Let me decompose in my world so perfectly constucted
Let my soul drift away
Ask me why I leave you to die alone,
Ask me why I leave you to suffer and toil
I’ll simply say,
“For those horrible things you did to me”

Nobody gives a damn about you, or anybody else.