The Sock-Monkey As Alone

so memory... grounding the demon. my childhood whispers to me, the suffering never seems to stop.

Spun-Sugar Or, the mad captains laugh and the uncultured executioner. Prelude Throughout the soft pink sky (known as the Spun Sugar) a rebellion is starting. Sheep will die when the shepherd is betrayed by his arrogance. The wolf has its own valor. Its honor is cunning. Its faith is in hospitality. Yet, what is discovered is that death is only the beginning. For, your reputation is all that will survive. This is the story of Bartholomew Rainwater. The messiah of the insurrection of cursed houses falling and the damnation of liberty. I am the scholar of the flood of the destroyed age. Spreading the good news that each life has value (even though some must be taken). Proverbs of piracy for those with their wits about them. Proverbs for those the world has no use for. Some things that will be said many would wish had died. Some that have died are lost to time. Though What I have found should be every man's bread. Part one: A man of the cloth alone with his doubts. Chapter 1 "For ...

"you fear the chasm because             you forget the bridge." - Joe Death The work is being pleasure is its own reward the responsibility of life is living Spiritual is simply what is sacred Sacred is what matters to god What matters to humanity is...           a bonus round?

God is with us The little knuckle rap    In a empty room Coincidences stop happening But the most evidence I have You were not an accident In the day of our lord Is your existence The excitement of a reality     that has you in it        Is proof to me    That hope is worth the pain.  

"I could be that chick you could be tarintino?" Black hair    almost exclusively       in a ponytail Eyes which color I can't remember And a smile I cant forget Not caring    what the world       thinks of me is my best    And      Worst quality I hope that you are to God As beloved as you are to me I pray that you belong to him Bound by his word as a chain "A new command     I give you:          love one another."  

The things we ponder. Are not always obvious The mind wonders    reflects     and comprehends       at it's own pace. one word:     reactive The soul like an algorithm     though it is "the minds eye"        that does           the comprehending   The part of us identifying     rather than what we observe. like a punchline the realization we exist beyond our own comprehension.  

I can give up the ghost. They're hands move us around     Like pieces on a chess board I have doubts but I am told its inequity. looking back     I knew I wasn't       worthy of Eurydice Hades... wasn't some casual affair All souls in there judgment Knowing they belong to a destiny Other than there desires The condition is always submission. In a world where souls... we are responsible for a fragile thing  

You are a vessel for the spirit of God, a cathedral to be entered with reverence. Trying to find some kind of hope... in... The beauty... Confusion And awe of your love of bad jokes Spectral, if neon visions, surround me. I hope they will forgive me. For dreaming of you. A vision gentle and lustrous. All chrome, like a memory of you With your thumb out... Poets need a since of humor  

  Love is being biased Love is selfless but is also selfish Love is a illness if it isn't a mutual diagnosis Love is obtaining a firmer grasp of the obvious. It hurts to feel love but more its absence Love is empathy without boundaries Love is making complex something simple Love is confusing clarity But more then anything, love is the task at hand. And is best when it is unironic and platonic, the secret of life.

"I don't know what you're thinking Only what you tell me..." "You've never been a jerk to me... Don't ever say that" Dreams are simple it's the idealized Version of what could be sniveling while hoping for a upgrade ...in another life... maybe... I can see it in your eyes I cant keep you safe Can't even promise I'll be coherent in the morning On the other side of eternity is.... How I will measure this dream... "Hold me."

"I could have been someone ...well so could anyone" - fairytale of new york A smile with rotten teeth Resented on the scene Mostly for calling it a scene they're doing the best art punk Singing lessons can buy "Yes" they agree no one likes "A Sellout who failed" Yet this circle jerk is as much about Exclusion as it is inclusion There is no US if there is no THEM Resenting abstractions, they forget It can be mutual

rain on sky lake A puddle overflows in the parking lot Traffic is slow I have sores on top of my head.... Depression has been getting to me Need to shower it's been a week The neighbors fight in passionate spats I hear them through the walls Your not coming over Eventually I'll forget how much this hurt Someone else can break my heart ...this is no season for poets  

I am fifteen walking in the early AM The duck pond is miles from home One day it will dry up and grass will grow Headlights slow and hunting draw near Window rolls down "Do you need a lift?" No "I'm not trying to scare you." I'm not scared "I just want to help you Get where you going" I'm exactly where I need to be Alone again... with the midnight traffic All those miles and years For poems no one cares for.  

“Mortal fate is hard. You'd best get used to it.”  ―  Euripides, Medea I am sitting in a worn leather chair as the candles dance around me. The chair is too large for one of my stature.  As I barely stand over three feet tall. My legs are swinging back and forth, idly, as I think of how to start the story. My eyes are empty sockets with fireflies hovering inside of them. I am wearing a large scarf and combat boots. Both legs are black as are both arms, the rest of me white. I have a jack-o' lantern Grin. Though I have no nose (Take that how you will). On Halloween, I can walk around freely (mistaken for a child trick or treating). My jester's cap is my favorite thing about me. I was born with it you see. For good or ill. My name is Cosmos and I am a banished heart. About a city, I have only seen in my dreams and even then it is too late already it is in ruins. Unsalvageable but still its ruin would linger. Desolation in our city, from bright and early morning to the dark ...

  they are little pups Life is the same color as blood Feeling more joy then I have any right to claim. His cry is soft... The little guy... His mother holding him While the nieces run around in circles My baby brother is a father I still can't rap my head around that all in the time When I'm scared of having a pet Life will carry on... from joy... to joy... Stray cats never come home

"Let's live today, let's live tomorrow and let's live the day after that. Even if it mean living in eternal pain." - vash the stampede The friendly reserved style is how I think I normally want to deal with serious issues. Emotions build up to the point of boiling over. I Tend to the mess... Laughing at myself, being overwhelmed by a fury of anxiety, Yesterday was chaotic... today was chaotic... and tomorrow could be anything. Pray quietly...  

Money is a exponential modifier of the worst in humanity. We are normally self interested and we want the results that we want. Money allows and encourages that, while increasing probability of getting away with it when anything crosses a line. Money = influence, they might as well be synonyms. People sell there bodies for an hourly wage or through only fans and one feels empowered because they are taught they are a commodity and if your the product you might as well own it... this may be a thread. It would appear that we are at a juncture with what money can do. A rolling back to fat cats (and not the cute kind). Of labor camps, work without compensation all with the madness that it is founded on self determinism. But the self isn't you and me. We are statistics in the hands of people who would not mind charging intellectual rent for there TM and copyrights. If they could take everything away from us with no exchange, they would And not only is it possible but likely that it coul...