I am a laborer of dreams and I'm building up a pyramid.
The ghosts might try to kill me but I learned to always live with it.
The fragile thoughts that draw you to the edge of your ill mind;
Believe when I say that giving up would be a true crime.
The only thing that you should do is plow ahead forward,
No stepping back because I got your back and that's a foreword
An introductory paragraph to what it means to me,
when I have always told you that we are going to be:
You insist that I don't understand--but it's rather clear to me
Your practice lies with tainted hands--your mouth spills sophistry
and I wonder where this practice ends--the director's calling me
A puppet for an angry stand--they call my penalty
And I'm naked in this foreign land--don't have a sanctuary
Protect this all with broken hands--I'll watch you label me!
And I'll live while I am half a man--but you won't cry for me
The machine has got you polished then--it's just a cog you'll be!
Enlarge the scales of life tonight--you'll see I'm without;
Approaching every end in sight--don't ask me about,
The slab that cites this lonely life--it's all a blowout
Machine won't even feel the knife--it's like a blackout!
And here I am in captured strife--it follows me throughout,
It squashes all that comes to life--emotions washout!
The Craftsman tries to take a bite--he cannot holdout
It's premature but he's done tonight--so watch him sell-out
I wade through the stream where the world had murdered me,
Strolling through the streets it's the phantom that I be.
Overcharged, supercharged, a ghost you'll never see.
Refer to all the scriptures if you choose to die for me.
Because I quit all the things that'll make my life blind
I quit all the penalties that put my life behind
I quit all the remedies current in my veins;
Hypothesize the meaning of this life filled with pain.
Planes flying like a fleet...
Hilarious enough to make me fucking weep!
Decorative promises that I keep,
Conductor for a symphony that cuts me deep.
Devote yourself to pain just to keep the pearl,
Depression hits me hard, shutting out the world.
Happy is a myth that I might now create,
Hide my occupation with this inner hate.
I've learned to start living with half a heart,
It's not quite so bad when you've been torn apart.
You learn what's vital and what's deep inside,
You learn to let go of little things like pride.
And you learn to see how little you matter...
And how much others might always matter to you.
So in end I'll learn to live with half a heart--
because my world both starts and ends with you.
My words were like a razor,
cutting the ice from your inner soul.
You might think that you know the saviour,
but your eyes are still dead and cold.
And every time I tried to save ya,
It's not my hand that you wanted hold.
Because your personal pattern of behavior,
Is the one where your soul is sold.
If I had to be honest with you,
this hole inside my heart hurts every single day.
Of course, I can easily pretend that I feel nothing.
I can easily fabricate a 'normal' existence.
But the truth is that the hole is there,
and I doubt it will ever be filled...
(Now read the title)
My meal today was a tad salty,
but I've been doing my best to watch my weight.
I've tried to stock up on the healthy things in life,
but it's difficult to do the things you hate.
Like swallowing the pain and anger inside.
Like putting on a smile because everything's 'alright'.
Like telling somoene else that you're perfectly fine.
While watching another man call that person 'mine'...
My meal today was a tad salty I think...
What was important to me was never her age.
It wasn't the clothes she wore or the shoes she had.
It was simply the way she smiled for me,
the way she giggled and laughed, joked and played.
That was all that she needed to 'mean' to me.
And as for the future, I guess we'll see...
Have you ever seen the end of a rainbow?
I have and sadly it's not very pretty!
I mean, if you think about it,
you've gone past seven colours just to get here,
so all that's left for you is the black and grey...
Well I personally chased the rainbow that I saw that day,
but when I reached the end--all of my sunshine had faded away...
I see the smile on their faces,
they're happy for real.
Yet I can't be a part of that,
because I simply can't deal.
With the fact that you left us,
You took glory over gain,
And the fact that you betrayed me,
will always be your shame.
So now I sit here coldly,
writing kisses to kings.
All the while tolerating,
the wound in my heart strings.
To write my thoughts is to write my mind,
because I have enough to feed my psychosis for a lifetime!
And even when you're here with me holding my hand,
It takes all that I have not to scatter like sand.
And I'll blow in the wind like a thousand pieces of me,
Each one an insane fragment of the man that couldn't be.
Who was lost in the wind as his shell lived it's life,
A ghost in the machine, buried in ice.
There are times when I might be happy,
but those are few and far between.
I leave myself caught in the embrace of debauchery,
because to face reality is to admit that I am unclean.
And I chase my problems with sex and wine,
Hoping that the haze might never lift.
Because if I were to open my eyes this day.
I would finally see all the life that I've missed.
And that would probably break me...
I wished to put my flower,
into a shell of glass.
I wished to keep her forever,
but I knew she would not last.
So instead I would leave her,
in the garden where she was green.
for even if someone picked her,
my heart would remain serene.
"For at least she is free..."
I would gladly write you bloody words,
if only they'd cause you pain.
But you would never understand my cause,
because you're so deranged.
While you argue over the meaning of words,
the world itself will slit its veins.
And thus we will build our suicide,
from the expressions we constrain.
I would write you a thousand different poems,
but only a few words really matter,
and perhaps they've been said enough,
that they are no longer special.
But still I would write them for you,
simple though they may be,
because it is these three simple words,
that display everything you mean to me...
It is when we laugh together,
that I remember what I like,
all these perfect moments of silliness,
captured by the camera light.
And I look at all these photographs,
remembering how we smiled.
Now I'll pick up the phone and call you,
because I've missed you all this while...
I find your words to be as ugly as the weight of your soul,
You're self righteous when you spit, but your heart is just cold!
and I'm afraid I'll never measure from a pole to pole,
but at least my mind is open; not an empty black hole.
You are the everything that's wrong in the world of today,
You spit the right but then you turn your cheek when others would say.
That our acceptance in a virtue, but your values are gray,
they either play along with you or there's hell to pay!
Ice cold are my fingers,
writing sad words like an old singer.
I could write my life as if it were a ringer,
but we all know that's not the truth.
I go through the pain like rain through my roof;
watch water flash flood my existence as proof.
And I drown in the current, much like the abuse;
forced on by a society whose ideals are obtuse.
And I live in the machine out of life and desperation;
dreams are just my cloth, I wipe away my perspiration.
But I hold to hope that I might still someday see,
that man in the mirror, I once thought I would be...
It is incredible is it not?
To know that even after I have lost my kingdom,
my army still survives.
And despite the years that may pass us by,
despite the time that rots our ways;
We will be the ones to grab the future,
hoping we might have our day.
These days past by in a blur of colour.
I wake, I work, I write, I writhe.
The pressure of existence grinds me down to the core.
But somehow, I find, I love it.
I love the stress of barely breathing,
I love the pressure as I am made to perform.
I love the intensity with which time passes.
Because it is progress that makes me feel alive.
So what have you accomplished today?
My poetry is not beautiful,
but you will always find yourself coming back.
Because the ugly concepts that I portray,
tend to leave you with more than just a momentary gob-smack...
After all my work is designed to make you think;
it is designed in a way that will make you understand.
That ultimately this world is doomed without change
and it is a change that will be brought about by our hand.
For what I do through my work is a subtle enlightenment,
even when it comes to a purely sexual piece.
Because my words are designed to awaken the fire;
One that will forge you into a living masterpiece.