Laugh at me now.
Question my sanity.
Look down upon me
In pity.
Tell me what you want to hear
What you want to see.
Tell me why it matters.
Prove to me
Why you don't understand.

You're scared.
Having an idealist around worries you.
It bother you that I chose
A path dissimilar to yours.
Uncommon. Unconventional. Unique.
Mine

You fear my success.
Not for my sake.
You know I'll be alright
Deep down.
But for your sake.
You want another follower
To "lead"
Another soft shell to fill
With more of you.
To mold
Minionize
Hypnotize.
I happened to be too solid.
You never expected me to be.
Smarter
In a practical sense.
Your PhD could have
Pulled humble deeds from your heart
But it placed upon you heavy doubt
Of who you are without that title.

I heard you regretted it all.
That you're not happy.
The salary is nice
But it's empty pay.
I had my eyes set on a different picture.
One of fulfillment.
One of pleasure.
Enjoyment.
Pride
In my ability
Not in my degree.

And that
To some degree
Is worth everything to me.

I was empty when I started
Tried to find a remedy
Really I was pretentiously
Fighting my inner artist.

Heartless...
Is that really what they think of me?
I was on the brink of the
Fate of many martyrs.

        And for starters...
        I had no clue what to do.
        I entrapped myself in seclusion.
        Time alone
        To reformulated,
        To re-braid my DNA,
        My motives.
        I tried to wriggle to the light.
        I jabbed, thrusted, fought.
        Just to get a glimpse of myself.
        The new me.
        Remedy.
        But I couldn't.
        I was stuck in my mind.

And I was going crazy
No way to get away from the
Torment that was containing me.

        So I wrote...
        I became the artist
        That I always wanted to be.
        I injected my pain infused art,
        Meticulously,
        On the sandpaper canvas
        That was my life.

Holding me deep in vacancy.

        That, was my nightmare.

And then I broke out.
I simply... woke up.

        So I learned how to dream.

You love to tease me,
Don’t you?
I can hear your faint whisper
Oscillating through my soul.
Echoing,
As if I were hollow.

You do this all too much.
Planting ideas,
Thoughts of treason.
Treacherous.
Baby,
What’s your reason?

I’ve put up with it way too long.
Your voice,
Fingernails on a chalkboard,
Steel versus concrete.
A distorted dog whistle,
Trumpeted
To a pack of hounds.

Is this what you really want?
I feel obligated to make you happy.
I promised to make you smile.
A man of my word…
Baby…
I hope your proud…
      
**-Bang-

It’s been said to cause success,
Yet its’ face is boldly grim.
Some even say it makes or breaks you,
Kills your soul, or fills the brim.

It’s been deemed the roughest test,
Where preparation meets implausible.
Whenever passion makes a breakthrough
Sounds of hell’s end become audible.

It’s received reviews of stress,
Of endless torture tearing through.
Leaving good men self-departed,
For they had no will to make it through.

It’s been seen in years of the past,
The trials of Job denote it well.
As Satan crushed his joys,
Job consummated to prevail.

It’s been said, “show no regret!”
When you look deep into your mind,
For this test is truly an artist
Creating a man, from pure divine.

So why let discouragement corrupt
Your trip through the abyss?
For it’s been said to cause success,

And that’s one hell of a gift.

As I sit back and relax,
The chill night breeze whips slowly around me.
The sun sets on the distant hillside,
Where the shadows begin to slowly fade,
Lingering
Until its’ cold nightly slumber.

I glance further onto the hillside,
Upon a flicker of light in a pit of darkness,
Alone.
I float back in the warm
Bubble induced water,
Look to the sky,
Where dim stars gain composure,
And begin to glow, brighter and brighter.
Constellations gain visibility,
After finally escaping the abuse of the sun’s rays
Which cloud them through the daytime hours.
The wind whispers more,
People in the distance cheer,
For we all drank the day away
As we enjoyed our distance from the robust city.
Replaced textbooks and notepads for beer,
Champagne and tequila.
Focused on nothing,
Allowing our minds to drift away,
Like these empty bottles in this hot tub.
Drifting,
Yet still confined.
Who’s to say that this can’t be our home?

Home…


So far away…

General.
Sir.
That is how you will identify me,
Hoorah?

I tell you what.
I am a soldier
But you?
You gotta earn your rights
To be privileged with such a title.
You get me maggot?
Fall in line, keep your lips locked.
Look me in the eye.
See any fear?
You shouldn’t, unless
It’s in your reflection.
You scrounge for this courage,
These cajones, that passion to surmount.
To get here, where I stand…

Here…
Can any of you maggots tell me
Where here is?
Anybody?
Are you even listening to me?
Where the hell are you going?
I never said at ease!
Sigh

I was an elite,
A soldier,
A leader.
Where here was the frontline.
The trenches, the beach head,
Africa, Stalingrad, O’ahu.
Now, here
Is found forgotten,
Lost in tragedy,
A false spectacle of hope,
Leaves me lost in this wicked dimension.
Clinches my soul.

Bang! Dust cover, flash
Dust cover, flash
Flash…
My senses.
Fading.
Into this abyss.
Leaving me here.
A ghost.
A spirit.
Please…
Bury me a soldier

Though the; core of the earth can be measured in Kelvin
What happens on the surface is a negative hell man.
Its a; cold world that we live in
From the government, law enforcement, and politicians.
Everything you do, where you go is like your swimmin’
Piranha on you tail take everything you've been given.
Through the gutters we roam in search of new beginnings.
Man; is this life we live really worth livin’?
Just to find out the when, where and how of your ending?

It’s a; cold world that we follow.
Pushers giving you pills and telling you to swallow.
The pills of conformity, we all had a taste.
Some just got addicted so they feigning for that 8.
Nose stuck on the internet searching for conspiracies.
Illuminati, JFK the whole entire industry.
The media’s agenda is the way we all proceed.
People tread the tail cause they all afraid to lead.
Probably afraid to bleed, to impede on the culture.
Well now it’s time to feed, swarm down hungry vultures.

It’s the; cold world that got us dying.
Fight for your beliefs and end up in an asylum.
You ain’t even gotta riot, to be quiet is a sin.
Yes sir, yes sir, yes sir. Amen
That’s the story that they preach.
Subliminal, under the surface.
Nobody knows the truth so it all seems perfect.
Well...
Does it all seem worth it?