Thursday, January 7, 2010

The Diary

The Diary

Loneliness is tyranny
that feeds off your fears.
When no one hears you screaming
although everyone's here.
You've been alone for a while.
On the phone with denial.
On your own
in a zone
where your heart is defiled.
In a room full of people
and you feel like a ghost.
Unseen & unknown
with a disease in your throat
I Killed your dreams & your hopes
So will you scream? Will you choke?
Will you bleed what i wrote?
Will you clean what i broke?
Will you be what i won't?
Will you see what I don't?
On the high end of low,
its you and me on this rope.

Boom Slang

Boom Slang

I'm not the biggest

nor the baddest;

I'm sure as hell not the meanest.

I keep to myself.

This is my home but

you can pass through

anytime you like.

All i ask is that you don't bother me.

For my bark is silent.

My movements, precise.

Just one bite. One day.

Your tears will blush.

Your veins will melt.

Every time your heart beats

it will feel like a bullet passing through

your chest.

Your blood will bleed,

drowning your organs.

Just one bite.

One day.

Thanks for staying.

I Have The Right To Destroy Myself

I Have The Right To Destroy Myself

I have the right

to wage war on myself,

liberate me, & go AWOL on myself.

I have the right

to change all of myself,

love me now & tomorrow hate all of myself.

I have the right

to face off with myself,

lose, rematch & paint the wall with myself.

I have the right

to waste all of myself

snort, toke, pop, & drink all of my health.

I have the right

to take off with myself,

steal my own soul & cut and paste yours on myself.

I have the right

to save all of myself

or die eternally; my fate belongs to myself.

Sal Gal

Sal Gal

Todays the day.
Todays the day to suffocate.
I did some bad things in my past
give me a fuckin break.
Listen up.
Listen up i'm not asking
for any help
coz i don't believe in second chances.
What really happened?
What really happened didn't happen.
Say what you want.
Believe what you please,
but please let me breathe
and release my plea.
It was a lie.
It was a pretty girl's pretty acting.
She threw me under the bus
to keep her boyfriend.
Wild Turkey. Bulldog.
A little pot.
A petting zoo party,
we didn't have a lot.
Her brother knew the truth
but he just sat and watched.
And let the cops
interview me while my hands were locked.
In old times,
I'd be up for crusifixion.
But then i proved her story
had a few afflictions.
Then it was realized
that her truth was fiction.
I'm innocent. Yeah.
Dodged a bullshit sentence.
But the damage was done
I walked through the fire.
After about a month
I was Labeled a liar
Mistrial? No trial.
It didn't make it higher.
But For years
people treated me like Michael Myers
I couldn't blame them and
I never blamed you.
Or even myself coz that
was something they'd do.
But I've moved on now
and i forgave you.
We were both at fault.
I didn't rape you.

Emiliano Mercado Del Toro

Emiliano Mercado Del Toro

This is the way we die slow.
We try to outlast the earth. Seriously.
Some of us are just scared to move on.
I personally just admire the world. After a century
of her beauty you'll see more of her ugly.
This is the way you die slow.
You do with your years
as you please. But that responsibility
is a plague.
Fear is quick.
Death is quicker.
Been here far too long
in my opinion but i guess thats my purpose.
I worked to 81. I saw
the turn of a century,
Evolution before my own eyes.
I never loved. Never had a baby.
115 years breathing, and i never felt alive.
This is the way I died slow.



I've met the madd hatter,
followed the bad rabbit
through every galaxy;
the stars just laughed him.

Played poker with the devil
and got my ass handed
back to me
inside of a black plaid jacket.

I guess thats what I get
fuckin' with black magic;
listening to people who
say I just am average.

You may be right
but what I write & what I say
has my heart & soul in it
while others half ass it.

I feel like I'm here
because i crash landed
like superman
but I'm an outcast bandit.

Self destruct mode.
I'll do some damn damage
cause now I'm out of breath
like I'm an asthmatic.

A Glad bag's wrapped
around me like an afghan its
to suffocate and separate me
from my bad habits.

I'm on a one road island
smaller than Rhode Island,
I cannot escape,
here I am stranded

The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me

The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me

The demons and angels of hell and heaven
The pain and prize with no addiction
Inside me I'm all sixes and sevens

A stallion stripper smiles and whimpers
A kind to the soul blind to the goals
The demons and angels of hell and heaven

Deceit and trust. The need and want
The fee of lust to me is none
Inside me I'm all sixes and sevens

Hair lips and thighs. I stare hypnotized
Her eyes disguise me as I fight the rising
The demons and angels of hell and heaven

With horns he's horny. A halo I'm faithful
His sadistic whoring comprise to save you
Inside me I'm all sixes and sevens

Trapped in a cyclone of bodies of sex kittens
Trapped in this psychos body Of flesh, hidden
The demons and angels of hell and heaven
Inside me I'm all sixes and sevens

Sicks Days in Fallujah

Sicks Days in Fallujah

The city of Mosques.
Fuck this place.
No one wants us here, they hate us.
I don't' care much for them either.
We're to eliminate any opposition
to our occupancy as we see fit,
not on the record of course.
I say anyone who hasn't already left opposes.
That guy in the ally? Bang.
This woman in the window? Bang.
Those kids throwing shit at us?! BANG!
Scrutiny my ass.
We're not supposed to use certain incendiaries.
I don't care how we kill
the assholes, as long as i make it home.
White Phosphorus can cause birth deformities?
good thing I'm out of town right, ha.
I mean hell, the air force is using Mark 77s
and they're in no immediate danger.
M77s, WP. Call it what you want
Its still fucking napalm.

Theo Told You About Rachel

You're an Artist,
the way you draw attention
to yourself.

You're an Artiste,
the way you paint and brush
your nuit visage.

You're an Artista,
the way you write and script
your pobre vida.

You carved lust
into the hearts of men and
misspelled it "l-o-v-e".

But I've seen through
all of your shades and shapes
or lack thereof.

I am the Artist,
that stole your heart to refill
on black ink.

Fly High, Free Bird

Fly High, Free Bird

So I've left you here alone
a dirty little orphan.
My family won't want you.
They'll take you but,
God knows they'll hate you.
Not to call you a burden.
Oh, by the way,
I drank away your future.
i had no idea it'd kill me! Oh well.
Just know I've always loved you,
and soon but never soon enough
you will be with me,
and your mother.
I'm not really leaving at all.
Just surrendering my personal tangibility.
I promise you'll know I'm there,
by the voice of Ronnie Van Zant.



You found me,
I lost you,
I've lost all motion.

No compass,
afloat on
a shipless ocean.

Made full
by your tears
and bitter emotions.

And you,
and my fears
and my lack of devotion.

But I know, what you did.
I need none, I use less.
I've become, so useless.
Don't do it.

Every year this day you'll hear me.
Every fear makes your eyes teary.
Every tear is made full fearing,
Every year this day
cause you'll hear me.



Just say when.
Just say how long.
Just say end.
Just say I'm off,

Of your leash, of your hands.
I'm one piece, of your sand.
Just one grain, I remain
stuck inside your hourglass.

Tears, Tissues & Rosaries

Tears, Tissues & Rosaries

I was higher than clouds, felt lighter too.
Just a night out with some friends an nothing
out of the ordinary in sight,
Me, being young, 13 or so.
When our ride came I was
ready to go home, clean up
and relax my way back down. She unlocked
the doors and asked me almost
"Where do your parents live, Johnnie?"
I told her sensing Opus Dei and a singular
transition. Still i hoped for better.
I arrived still floating. Ten cars filled
the street and 30 bloodlines the house.
I entered greeted only by tears, tissues & rosaries.
Everyone was crying; My father was absent.
Everyone was crying.
Everyone but me.

Guys Like Me Make You Look Bad - Part III

Guys Like Me Make You Look Bad - Part III

Wide eyes,
blue sky,
sun bright.
All seen through naked sight
Lies upon lies,
buried and unearthed,
a broken seal.
A truly dismal view from my point.
She never cared.
Just a wolf
in sheep’s clothing
gnawing me to the bone.
We became Me,
Me became I,
I became nothing.
Dead inside.

Guys Like Me Make You Look Bad - Part II

Guys Like Me Make You Look Bad - Part II

Walking towards her
with a backpack on
That seemed to hold
the worlds weight inside.
We all have a fear of falling,
but when you're used to jumping,
falling to fear is fucking hard.
Before me stood
a cocaine eyed, pale faced
femme fatale
in a sterling mini skirt;
my worst mistake.
Death hung above waiting
for two hearts to shatter.
Once the words spilled
from my mouth,
I realized, he was only there
for me.

Guys Like Me Make You Look Bad - Part I

Guys Like Me Make You Look Bad - Part I

Grinning deeply with
a scythe beside me.
Slept not a wink to prepare
the cutting loose.
A man who fears nothing
yet is deathly afraid
of her first tear.
Solemnly sworn
but commits to tear.
It shall be done,
the valley now mine.
Shadow fades,
silhouette gone,
time is now.

Dear Lucy, Love Floyd

Dear Lucy, Love Floyd

Chasing clouds
in a field of meringue
Blues fade behind
as if restrained

Cocoons bloom
to tunes that swoon
Guided through
by fumes of the moon

My veins now torrents
of vibrant greens
Flowing down forests
of violet trees

A Hoffman trip
through Dali’s sight
My spirit strips
my body’s life

I weighed the choices,
the stairway was tedious
They're right, these voices,
the drop was easiest

And comfortable here,
I could stay forever
Take this solace,
my last letter.

Speak Words Until Your Lips Are Numb

Speak Words Until Your Lips Are Numb
(LAK Poetry Month Contest Winner 2008)

I spoke with my soul today,
a speech of meditation and despair
sprang from within.
It screamed and bled
onto the pages before
me of how it was perturbed
with this chasm of ignorance
and pride that floods around me.

None admit their wrongs;
everyone beckons their self proclaimed
eruditions to be esoteric
as they fight to prove right
something which is false.

They leave the good hearted
in a world of black
with hellish recollections
while the dark
beating berry bastards
manipulate their way
in and out of the tired souls
of those who commit
constant acts of selflessness
to prove just how benign they are.

"Who for" is of no importance
for the act remains the same,
but even transplanting the
dirty heart with an
unscathed love deep from within
the palace of blood
in another being, will not change them.

The dark will soon
and spread like riot control shots
until the love is broken
and the sweet refrain, once played
by the raindrops, now crashes
through the mind like spades
upon metal coffins
buried 6 feet deep into the brain.

And just before you reach the stem..... Numb