it must all be about....

You.
I haven't been allowed
'Cept in small patches
The usual things life brings
To not express
My own fears
My own things
In this world
For so fucking long
I care not to dream
And its still my fault
All this happened to you
Ill get down on that bench
And testify
To all the wrongs
They did for you
In love
For god
For family too
And none of it matters
When I cannot exist
Not even for moments
Its all about you.
I'm sorry I existed
To help you on through
But I promise from now on
I'll just let you
Do your own things
Your own way
While I pardon
My inadequateness
My inept feelings
And the smattering
Of things you think true
Its only as lonely
As the absence
Of all of the loving
I was not left with
And thieves have taken
And the cops will sort it
And I've got a feeling
Its only my problem
Just like backs broken
And accusing the truth
Of being a liar
And its all you can do
For I have done nothing
To be so construed
Except not be a follower
Of some never lived jew.

Awoke to
The things I've hidden
Far deeper than thoughts should go
And if it weren't for the shit I've written
And kept underneath the status quo

Figured out the meaning this time
Of all the loss and doses of
A riddled historic divide
Where only questions
Ascertain the tide

This isn't what I believe in
If you hear the way I bore
Through mountains of mischeif and dys
And the utopia I might ignore
Could I hold my breath to listen
Hard enough to feel adored
And emaciate and be forgiven
For the qualms I have
With going for'rd.

This cannot be true
I check the absence list
And all were spoken for.
Like there wasn't dilemma
Or inocence in fighting on
Quit right now and please forget it
This is left to seize the reward.

For Chè

If only there was no Hoover
To start the decline
Of interest and harboring
All of the crime.
The total
I tarion
Planes through the night
To disappear our fathers
And brothers
Who'll die
Or come back as haunted
As the looks in their eyes
While standing
Like martyrs
For a cause
They didn't sign
I'd give you revolution
If you weren't so fucking blind

On hands
And on habits
And on commerce
Rely
For momentos
Of seconds
When freedom
Wasn't a lie.

disorganised diatribe

The war in Iraq!
The war in Iraq!
The things that we give and cannot take back!
The Terror!
The Terror!
The trust of the error!
Killing the white girls with long, blonde hair!
The Care!
The Care!
(And) What once was
is no longer there!

Stacking belief
And corpses of sheep
While convincing the flock
There is no reason to bleet.
If only we could
Repeal what stood
In the way of the heroes
if only we would!

I Believe!
I Believe!
Everything that I see!
Every glimpse that is giving
And is meant to deceive!
My People!
My Sheeple!
There's only fear to feel!
Only revenge and anger are left to be real!

(A lie)
(A lie)
(A disproportionate time)
(Thrown from the cliff)
(And expected to climb)

backflips. sunders. tumbling. unders.

could you harm me
with all your sweetness?
could there be reasons
that you wake up
before you goto bed
that your only hands are tied back

is that a whisper
or did it scream right off your tongue?
i'll connect
and dissent here
to come and make demands
is that a sense
of the master
who only hears his friends?
is it the will
of the beggar
who only lost his stipend?

i kill this thing because it only brings death
i kill this pain and find it already dead

regret the only options left to have.

if glass all had round corners.

if only explanations had
a chance
(murder, she wrote)
and typing on things
which groan in tongues
with air that lies can hardly believe
doesn't the tide only sit ashore
and make the blemishes only come forth
make a listen and shed your smile
your length and breadth of knowledge stumble
you have naught but bread and crumbs, sir
offer up something worthwhile or perish
offer yourself to the world for forgiveness
haughty yer fears of the sitting aside
and watching the world with a back half alive
crumble
OH MISER
you sick to the hilt
and all of the things that you remember still.
if only for seconds
the time that you have
a blip on the radar
a soon picked scab.
it cannot be honor,
to leave lone the lady.
while eyebrows stay furrowed
and laughter is lazy
if you had a choice
to bring back the fever
the twitch in the hands
that make you a believer.
the head of the neck
of the life you had built.
the something for giving
the blood you have spilt.
and all is not spoiled
if hope would be
if hope would be happiness
all home with me.

(don't forget the love that's left)
(and not behind or on your breath)
(if i could wish the future back)
(i'd give you all the things i lack.)