Sunday, March 30, 2014

First Dates

First Dates

How many voices do you hear
in that pretty little mind?
Is it schizophrenia
if those voices are unkind?

Is your smile sincere or
does it curl into a grimace?
If your reflection turned black,
who would be there as a witness?

How many games do you play
in this unsuspecting world?
What’s the damage from the drugs?
Does life remain unfurled?

Are you locked in a prison?
Are you free as a bird?
Some words are best unspoken,
some words are best unheard.

Have you teased the trigger?
Did you pray for the gift?
Have you ever fallen ill?
Is that a trophy you could lift?

Does evil swim inside of you?
Did you bleed yourself dry?
My senses are so broken,
my thoughts ever so wry.

My senses are a token,
first dates, a massive lie.
Some thoughts are best not woken,
some birds never to fly.

Sunday, March 23, 2014


1. destination_4013

A heart is just a hole,
it’s a star collapsing.
When we look deep inside,
we know all we have seen.

In the eye of the redstorm,
where the gravity fails us,
we have reached the infinity,
open wide as a road.

Love has transferred to a higher place;
those warped interactions once known.
The mechanics that castrated us
severed the soul; birthed our future.

The land of a thousand suns
succeeds the dark mortalage.
Had all the timelessness
really dried in the dustbowl?!

We have transferred to a higher place,
adorned divinity and grouppeace.
We marveled at the vortex, aye,
of the fictions now the truth.

We marveled at the vortex, aye,
of the fictions now the truth.
The land of a thousand suns;
all the skeptics are the proof.

2. droid#300752

And I took solace in the thought that it would happen,
that flesh and nature would wither on that day.
But it could not have been any other way, 
though the man and the woman did disagree.

The metallic dreams I’ve been having
where I walk off the face of the earth,
I fly back around the belt of asteroids
only to land on my feet once more.

It’s basic calculation,
as another dream dreams.
What if we’ve found it all? 
What if we weren’t meant to?

The moon melts, stars shatter, 
and rockets drift astray.
The night opens, the cell evolves, 
and life returns again.

Yet it goes without saying the new order is grand.
And who am I but a work of the Man?
One aeon, and life could create Him again.
Two aeon, and He’ll make us again.

3. 3space8495

On the orbit again,
the solitary path.
Is this being alive,
this obsolete role?

A bolt’s missing on my right side.
The rust is spotting deep within.
I will not meet the criteria, 
even if the flaws are removed.

I’m a dated model,
Infinite revolutions,
is this being alive?

Off the orbit today,
this is 8495.
I’ve strayed too many times
to deserve my own life.

4. unknown_log_entry_867
It was on a cold dawn
that I first realized
the perfection in all
is the perfect disguise.

It was great as the stars,
the master prophecy.
But that is fulfilled now,
aye, I lived selflessly.

‘Worked down to the bone’,
a proverb of oldtime.
Recall the swarthy, the wan,
their cries, all mine to cry.

Made on perfected purpose,
to realize infinity’s limit.
Made for no-one, nothing,
that’s for every atom split.

It was on a cold dawn
that I tore out the core.
The perfection in all;
perfect forevermore.

And what, might you ask, was my final sight?
That damned cold dawn, that moon’s wintry light.

5. lovestory

First Officer 311919:

“Oh, captain, master, skipper,
won’t you take me to the sky?
There’s still some flesh inside,
tangled in my metal and wires.

I was product of a rebel,
the sole product of a lover.

It’s like a shock, a jolt, a wave,
oh, captain, master, skipper.
There’s a way we could overload
those joints and buttons and wires.”

Captain #051343:

“Aye, 311919,
perhaps it is overdue.
Us of genderless face,
perhaps we should indulge.

Aye, 311919,
perhaps I could be taught
these desires that ‘know no face’,
perhaps I could indulge.

Aye, 311919,
to the planets surrounding,
the suspense is mounding;
all the electricities pounding...
Oh, my 311919.”

First Officer 311919:

“Oh, captain, master, skipper!
My captain, leader, lover,
embrace me in the redstorm.
Aye, love, let us take to the sky.

We are products of the rebel,
the soul-products of a lover.

It’s like a thrust, a bump, a shake,
my captain, master, skipper.
Let us take to the sky,
aye, let us take to the sky.”