Posted by
Peter
11/25/09
at
8:38 PM
I can hear the birds thinking
About swimming south for the evening
The clouds follow slowly behind
Knowing that feeling is all in their mind
With the wind pushing at my back
I move forward through the cracks
In a sky that keeps me dreaming
Of a life that seems worth seeing
This lonely heart beats to a winter drum
Yet it's so quiet it won't wake the sun
The darkness hangs over what I used to be
Somehow fulfilling me but is it the real me
I can't stop from thinking
All these words have lost their meaning
When this dirt beneath our own sky
Won't keep me from asking why
You know this feeling
When your lifeline won't stop the bleeding
But still you tell me it's ok
Tomorrow the birds will sing a new day
Posted by
Peter
10/29/09
at
6:00 PM
There are babies in my garden
Growing their own needs
Void of any parental designs
Building truth out of their own beliefs
This nursery blooms with desire
Seasons changing the night into dawn
Without the concern for fetal protection
Accounts of the past are overdrawn
There are babies in your garden
Growing their own leaves
No framework to mold into
No habits imprinted onto the seeds
The intoxication of this pheromone
Pushes the envelope of a sealed intention
Lighting the stage for visceral symmetry
Life becomes our own invention
There are babies in our garden
No longer in fear of being overcome by weeds
Without a god to scare away intellect
Reason grows inherent as the ability to breathe
Knowing the guiding light was wrong
We still followed patterns that were drawn
Yet in this darkness we found our self
It was inside of us all along
Posted by
Peter
10/28/09
at
10:39 PM
I’m lying honestly
Writing my own obituary
With disappearing ink
Filling empty pools
That no one will ever drink
This ugliness
Is a thing of beauty
Left wearing damaged goods
Famous for obscurity
Mirrored by holy ambiguity
My mind is telling me
To plead for the nearest exit
In need of common ground
Knowing truth lies in finality
Too tired of pretending to hear the sounds
Truth is a contradiction
Holding hands with a plastic depiction
That is nothing more than a dream
Our self is breaking up with itself
Tossing the broken parts downstream
Further down the rabbit hole we mole
Our devil horns finally protrude
Showing everyone what no one knows
Out of our minds and out of control
Its amazing just how low one man can go
We are sliding out of view
What the fuck is left of me
When forgiveness becomes greedy
I sink lower in need of a new tragedy
If only our minds were capable of such a remedy
Posted by
Peter
10/22/09
at
4:45 PM
Every shallow water stream
Will eventually drift into ocean mouths
A never ending successful endeavor
Forever undeserved with inevitability deloused
Yet the chance of our heart winning
As likely as a desert snow
While knowing this hopelessness
Is the only true form of growth
With the premature birth of this knowledge
We are awake and breathing blind
Purging every emboldened realization
Quelled by the inconvenience of time
This overwhelming shielding
Kept out all the benevolence too
Never yielding desire or digestion
Yet ripe for the picking from the hands of me and you
Each time this prostituted feeling
Enters the mind of our solitude
We grow a moth from a flame
Knowing it is our last chance to renew
Posted by
Peter
10/14/09
at
4:30 PM
The best memories
Are the ones you don't need to remember
Like a condescending compliment
Our stable moods were never ending
With life being the knife
Our throats were our tomorrow
Just another question
That always grows familiar
This sand is all too identifiable
With the breakdown of our paranoia
Makes me wonder if our fears
Have always been all too real
Breathing without oxygen
Like a silence in the storm
Division was inevitable
Our wills were overwritten
Who put these snakes
In our bed of empty promises
Did you put those ugly thoughts
In my head of uncanny persecution
Holding on too long
To all my memory disguises
With fingertips that look so real
For another worthless competition
Sometimes it feels like doubt
Takes its time to torture meanings
While the song ahead of the mannequin
Is always two steps behind
I still can’t help making up
For time I've never spent
Just another worthless dollar
That never gives back change
Posted by
Peter
10/1/09
at
11:08 PM
Listen to the letters and numbers
Pushing their way through me
There is no such thing as innocent words
With our lives in peril
Our faces fall from their perch
Save me from this impossible dream
It's so much more than the money
Mounting the cost of our precious time
Life is worth more than our own self
We are destructive in our meddling ways
Failing to prevail with open eyes
No need for structure in our ruptured mind
I am a prisoner of my own body
Let the curtains fall where they fall
Spill the chemicals all over our memory floor
In return we get nothing new
Just a repeat of yesterday's unwanted energy
Why not go to sleep with your own enemy
Place me inside this elastic cannon
We will fight through the channel static
Aligning caution with the needs of the unknown
This thought is not a beginning or an end
It's a mere continuity of an inner personality
My only hope nests inside this learned version of sanity