Poetry

MADNESS

(The Last Refuge of Sanity)

Bake Yr Own Bread

Rot in the head
Jam in the toes
Bake your own bread
Write your own prose

If I grew wings surely I’d fly
Fly as if I could never lie
And see through the swim of bliss
And sea through the eye of this

Tho­razine and apple tree
The Carrot-top of roy­alty
Treads on mice and treads on me
Take the ride and pay the fee

The story’s an end to
Two days ago
When as luck would have it
I made some dough

I mugged an old lady, this much is true
I grabbed an axe and swung right through
And now her blood stains the street
A blood­ier end no one could meet

Be happy though, for she was the devil
Drank infant blood and on sadism she’d revel
The screams of her chil­dren cry­ing in fear
An orgasm from each ghastly tear would appear

But in the end, it turns out this was all a big joke
Haha, good one, see I had a real fat toke
And all of this came through my fin­gers
And this line does not rhyme

Play­ground Pirate

To swing and to slide, to dream and to glide
To cough and to sneeze, to cry and to please

These are the words by which we live our lives
These are the youth that will break free of the hives

Look at my this, look at my that
Look at me mother, ‘for I old and fat
Look at me scream, lest I not speak
Look at this world – it will be gone in a week

Play while you can, ‘for ye’r worked to death
Smile to the end, laugh your last breath

Truly we all die for the ques­tion of why

Sophia hath learn that all lives will burn

Insetco-Pornography Poetry

I want to fuck a bee­tle
I want to fuck it hard
Reduce it to the fetal
And then smoke some shard

I want to cum on a mos­quito
Then eat some mescal­ito
I want to shove flies in my ass
Ugly despi­ca­ble and crass

I love them all, the squig­gly things
Inside the earth they are the Kings
In my heart they reign supreme
Think­ing about them makes me cream

The Laugh­ter of a Thou­sand Dying Souls

A laugh­ing man once fell dying to his knees
He screamed and he cried, he begged and asked, “please?”
“Please, let me live!” – then no more, no cough or wheeze
I stood and I laughed, “More whine with your cheese?”

Through cruel eyes the world is a hell
To live or love, it’s always just as well
Bro­ken by the years, noth­ing more than a shell
On such dark things the beast will dwell

A thou­sand dying souls con­sumed by hunger, thirst, and win­ter
One pour soul stands and yells, “Carpe diem!” only to dis­a­pear in a haze
To become one with all, then to break off and splin­ter
She asked the ques­tion and he answered back, “Learn to love these try­ing days”

Spec­u­la­tions

Unknown by nature, unseen by man,

Where has it rested and where has it ran?

This one is in pieces, a miss­ing cog-machine

One moon plays gen­tle, a lion gri­mace mean.

Catch it with fishes or catch it with colds,

Grow it in seeds or grow it from molds,

Dis­miss­ing the law as well as the crime,

Dis­cussing Eter­nity at the brink of Time.

Root-Wall; For­est Fall

Increase and expand; reward, release, rewire

Defeat, deciet – lust burn­ing a soul peak­ing desire

Mind cold and as old as sto­ries of ice and fire

Arthur, why is INRI now the Lord & Sire?

One danc­ing sui­cide, the blood I drink

It tastes famil­iar – ’tis mine, I think.

Two knaves tied in sor­row to one love,

Stand­ing at the cliff – myself that I shove

“I have no need for good souls: an accom­plice is what I wanted.”

-Sarte

A pipe turns and the crys­tal burns – then – Twisp!

Inhal­ing – “don’t hold it” – Exhale a willow-the-wisp

A ten dol­lar cloud of chemical-sex-smoke;

Cool it, kick it, chill out with an herb toke

Speed­ing; now fly­ing at mach five

Down! Not down – to my grave I dive.

One Response to “Poetry”

  1. Hey man I dig the poetry. I’ve been half-assedly work­ing on a web­site and remem­bered you have your own, so I thought I’d come steal ide… I mean check it out. Turns out we have a lot of the same ideas in com­mon, so I may just bor­row some cre­ativ­ity from you (with your per­mis­sion of course) and see if you want to net­work at all. I’ve also got a forum in the works, for peo­ple to bull­shit on.

    Sin­cerely,

    Head­spin, The D34d w1zard

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