Fingers Singed


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I once walked with white magick
and spelled it with a “k”
and something I find tragic
is that I lost my way
it’s easy to blame sorrow
for my blackened path
as the power I would borrow
filled me with hate and wrath
but it was my weak mind
that led my heart astray
I elected to go blind
to keep myself at bay.


This is something I whipped up this morning since I wasn’t able to sleep last night. Kinda started it in my head around 5am. It’s been humid as fuck here, and that’s not ok. Anyway, I was actually contemplating submitting this to a poetry contest since a good deal of my stuff is quite graphic, vulgar, or depressing (my take, at least) and I guess some people need to be eased into that. Either that or doing a touch up on Hymns of the Harbinger, since I’ve won a contest with that before as well. Some parts are a little clunky, I pretty much change something with that almost every time I read it. If you are actually reading this, and read that piece, please, for the love of all that is unholy, give me some fucking opinions jesus fucking shitting dick nipples.

Anyway, thanks for baring with me all this time. This piece gave me a little bit of trouble, but I am assuming that’s from allowing myself to fall out of practice. Figured I’d post a pic of the piece since I never post pictures with my stuff. If you are wondering why I am actually using capital letters in this message, it’s because I’m using ms word at work and it auto-caps. I am almost stubborn enough to turn every capital letter into a lowercase letter. Stay weird.

K Hole


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I’ve lost so many friends
to the demons of addiction
and like a battered wife,
I live for my affliction
I’m now more than dependent,
it started just for fun
I thought the pleasure innocent,
’til the demons finally won.

loosely inspired by my friend AJ’s poem
make sure to check him out!



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Forever, I am wasting
my life and time away
I’d sell my very soul
for some joy today
my pleasures have turned dull,
and my woes routine
I hope that someday soon
existence will end scene.



have 2 unfinished pieces from a few weeks ago on my desk. they were coming along well but i lost the wind. i’ll try and get them finished and up here. thanks for sticking with me being MIA all the time



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Sometimes I feel imprisoned,
but it’s of my own doing
I didn’t build the walls,
but I walked in the cage

The key is in my hand –
the door is never locked
there’s safety in the pain
and routine in the dark

I see the sun outside
and tan from time to time
a passing novelty
that somehow keeps me sane

Decaying in this cage,
I leave once in a while
but always saunter back
longing to be home.



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Its eyes glistened like diamonds,
its scales shimmered with gold
its tails, they whipped and whirled,
as slowly, it approached

Its rancid breath engulfed me,
empty, I felt so cold
its teeth, they dripped rancid venom
that charred the ground beneath

Its claws reached out to touch me,
caressing my scarred, naive skin
its tongue encircled my ear,
as ever close, it crept

Three arms, they wrapped around me,
as they warmed me within
its horns, they parted my hair,
in its crooked, clawed embrace

With fire in its past footsteps,
it climbed upon my back
it prodded me to go forward,
as I walked forth in daze

I happened across a beggar,
crippled, somehow in a shack
I asked the beast its name,
and it only voiced desire

not sure how i feel about this one, but its nice to be in the writing mood again

Squatter’s Rights


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A demon lives in my hall bathroom,
and I’m not sure why
thrice before, in vain, I’ve asked him
but I guess he’s shy
I’ve tried before to speculate –
it never sits quite right
he hates when I look in my mirror,
yet only late at night
sometimes, he crashes on my couch,
or loiters in the hall
three years now, he’s lived rent free
god, what fucking gall!
I have tried to evict him,
but he saunters back
I guess that he’s good company,
so I cut him some slack
either way, he’s quite the burden
I wish not to bare,
tonight, I’ll burn the whole town down
to say his tab is square!

The Prophet Mohammad Raped a Nine Year Old Girl


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never got around to posting this one, but hey, here it is!

Religion is just mind control
that preys upon the meek
priest say give unto Caesar
because they know we’re weak
brainwashing children is so easy
when you beat their mother
and teach the little girls
they better fuck their brother
christians are a fucking joke
and jews: a dying breed
muslims burn women with acid
just because they read
the crusades and holocaust
should proof, enough be
and who the fuck scoffs at bacon?
curse the clove-ed hoof
and I fucking know not what
a god-damn sikh is
but I know that that head-wrap
should just mop up jizz
even the well learn-ed Buddha
said he wasn’t god
but man, he did not listen
the hairless ape is flawed
and oh, those new age wiccans,
pagans, and druids, too
a written language was not
what that ripped off culture knew
and some fucking purple rocks
a cleansing, does not make
why not just drink bleach
or try to fuck a rake
the bible says that every slave
should serve their master well
but if you mix two fabrics
you’re going straight to hell
it also says the only right
that women have is silence
so peaceful is religion
when it takes a break from violence
and hindus, oh my god, the hindus
worshiping a rat
I guess it is so fitting
for a godly man is that
and I think that there are still
zoroastrians on Earth
and I swear, their number doubles
with each and every birth
tell me, now, where is god
when children die by fire?
and don’t say shit about his ways
you know you’re just a liar
and if there really is a god,
please, strike me down
your children have ruined this Earth
our water has turned brown
god, it seems, is just a lie
to keep the masses meek
controlled by fear and taxes
while behind us, royals sneak.



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still cant find my missing pieces. wrote this for my friend’s birthday

I struggle now, to half-remember
what happenstance did spark the ember
of something once, I prayed for, yearned,
to see the day when the world burned

Alas, it seems, that I was wrong,
still beautiful is Banshee’s song
curse the day when angels fell,
bringing forth this living hell

And as this world, it turns to shit
oh, I can’t help but laugh a bit
life, it seems, is just a pox
with Nat Geo now owned by Fox.

Not Dead Yet


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What was it that I saw
when I looked into death?
’twas not a gaping maw,
so frigid, was its breath
a blackness from the void,
it came to laugh at me
with my life, it toyed
as it took from me three

I tried so hard to cry,
burdened with each breath
I’d rather just get high
off the smell of Death.


I have had a lot of bad shit happen in the past few months, so please excuse the extended absence. I have a few pieces that I have written in this time scattered around my apartment on various pieces of paper. I will try to find them and post them as I do. Hope all is well, you mutant fucks.

witty title


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wrote this for my friend at 5 am, so its pretty rough, but hey, shit happens, then you die.

A current carved through canyons
was the work of me
I’ve far too many stories
involving apple trees
germs and evolution,
like me: only a theory,
and I won’t weigh you down,
but I’ll caress your mass
the feather and the stone
were never meant to pass

I’ll never hold a hand,
but I can bounce a ball
I topple trees and tyrants,
no matter large or small
what am I?

CCCXLVI – ‘Til Death


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I never thought I’d live alone
by my own volition
I thought this curs-ed life of mine
was merely superstition
but then, one night, my sweetheart said
my life: her dream’s fruition
and satisfying her desire
was my life and mission
I thought it strange, but didn’t argue,
for I love tradition,
and just between you and I,
her words gave me ambition
and not a day before had passed
without some inhibition
but then the more that I mulled
it seemed to me submission,
and that was truly quite the waste
of this apparition
I’ll never spend my second life
serving my mortician,
she carved her name into my skull
and dripped upon it wax
so I sent her off to Hell,
to, at last, relax
I sing a song to myself
just to pierce the silence
and every time a mortal knocks
I get to taste some violence
these halls, at last, are my own,
devoid of fucking heartbeats
and finally, I am alone
and free from Cherisse.

merry christmas, you filthy heathens :)

Is Cancer Really That Bad?


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i wrote this back in april, and put it up on lolbook and some other sites. i cant believe it never made its way here

Monday, 11 April 2016

Los Angeles, California – Firefly, produced by Joss Whedon, first aired on Fox in the September of 2002, and is wildly regarded by many to be one of the greatest Science Fiction television shows ever created, earning rank #5 in TV Guide’s 2013 list of series that were “Canceled Too Soon”.

Included in the family of Firefly‘s die-hard fan base is Katie Christenson, 13, of La Mirada, California, who was diagnosed with stage 3 cervical cancer early last year. With the help of her mother, Cathy, and father, Steven, she was able to contact the Make-A-Wish Foundation in late January, wishing for the opportunity to see just one more new episode of Firefly before she passes.

“It just kind of ends, you know? I understand that River and the rest of the Serenity crew get away from the Alliance, or so it seems, but we really don’t know what happens afterwards,” Katie said.

Thankfully, David Williams, CEO of the Make-A-Wish Foundation, is on her side, stating that, “For too long, we have waited for a Firefly reboot or continuation. Although Katie’s condition is truly horrible, perhaps this is what Fox needs to get off their butts and do something good for once. Not only do I support her wish, I will see to it personally.”

Katie is just like any other teenage girl. She loves to spend time at the mall with her friends in between chemotherapy appointments, and was overjoyed to go on her first date with a boy last weekend.

“His mom dropped us off at Baskin Robbins. We got some ice cream, and then John took me to see the new Star Wars movie. It wasn’t very good; it was like they were just trying to redo the original and pass it off as something new. Rey was pretty cool, but River is a much stronger female character, I think,” Katie said, when I had the chance to visit her earlier today.

Katie is truly more than a sci-fi fan, Katie is everything a sci-fi fan should be. Katie spends most of her free-time drawing and designing spaceships, thanks to the astrophysics and engineering lessons her parents have downloaded from online universities onto her laptop.

“I just can’t see any realism in the idea that we are just gonna stay on this planet and let it rot. Firefly gave me hope that although I won’t be here to see it, maybe humans can colonize space without drastically changing who we are.”

Truly touching and wise words for such a young girl.

Williams said, during a Skype interview on Thursday, regarding Fox co-CEO Dana Walden, “She’s kind of being a bitch about it. I think I’m making some leeway, but I’m not sure Fox is going to cooperate in a timely enough manner to bring Katie’s wish to fruition.”

I didn’t have much time to speak with him, but Williams is not giving up his fight for Katie’s wish. Katie started watching Firefly a few years ago, when she received the DVDs of the show for her birthday, which is in July, so Williams is desperately trying to get the fifteenth episode made in time to air on her birthday this year.

He believes Fox will probably cave, with Joss Whedon already giving the green light and the original cast agreeing to get back together for a final episode. With the difficulty Williams is facing due to all the corporate run-arounds Fox has been giving him, it is starting to seem like Katie’s wish may not come true before she passes.

Joss Whedon and Nathan Fillion, who played Malcom Reynolds, have also discussed the possibility of contacting Reed Hastings of Netflix to see if they would be willing to host the final episode of Firefly. According to Whedon, the preliminary storyboard and basic skeleton of a script should be completed by early May. Williams has stated that if Fox does not cooperate by the end of the week, he will be contacting Hastings, following the advice of Whedon and Fillion.

CCCXLIII – The Soylent Green Party


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Poor children starving, they make me so happy,
to taste their despair, it softens my own
crying ‘til their coma, they fill me with bliss,
they suffer so much, I’m hard when I piss

A brat and a tantrum, thirteen years screaming
a relationship born just south of hell
corrupt politicians feasting on the poor,
we all fuck ourselves like a five dollar whore

I poisoned the air for a pretty picture
and I cracked my mirror for a cleaner view,
the forest are burning as rivers run dry,
I clinch my wallet as I drown and die

Three cigarettes to calm me down,
and I grab another, just to make sure
there is no order, nor sense in this world,
I’d rather be dead than fetal curled

The world is in debt, but I ask, “to whom?”
and it’s gone to shit, like it always has
I beg for your ear, your reason, and life
just kill yourself to end all this strife

There is no war without a nation
and there is no debt if we don’t agree,
kill all the bankers, the puppets, and hacks
a glorious New Dawn through Harrison’s Tax

Praise be to he, who showed us our shadow,
and praise be to she, who showed us our sin
god is a lie, look around – we’re in hell,
three hits of acid to shatter this spell.


Wrote this about a month and a half ago. It wasn’t really up to my standards and I wasn’t really in the right mindset to revise it, so I never did. Posting it to get myself back into the habit. Hope it’s still relevant to someone.

CCCXLII – All I want for Xmas is a Secular Society


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Oh, Jesus is the reason
for this joyous season
why in this time of Yule,
we celebrate the solstice

Of Nazareth, he’s the reason
for this heinous season
let’s slaughter some Celts
and blame a pagan god

Oh, Jesus is the reason
for this lurid season
let’s just buy more shit
to force through our needle

Of Nazareth, he’s the reason
for this horrid season
for every crying brat
and stripper Mrs. Claus

Oh, Jesus is the reason
for this fucking season
there’s not a single Christian
who ever lived like Christ

Of Nazareth, he’s the reason
for this abysmal season
it’s not being oppressed
when you don’t get your way

Oh, Jesus is the reason
for this putrid season
fuck all the other gods,
kwanza, and the Jews

Of Nazareth, he’s the reason
for this repugnant season
the music’s all a pox,
coal in my socks

Religion is a fucking curse
and only Commies read
it’s clear in the bible:
Jesus was born in spring!

Conversing with myself


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About every year or so, I type something that isn’t poetry or a bad hard sf story. Well, here’s one. About a week ago, my friend asked my why I use particular words when I do, which I will copy pasta in a moment. I am not very good at dissecting my own thoughts and am worse at talking about myself, but I think I did a decent enough job to ask you psychotic fucks who visit my page to help me elaborate:

he asked “I‘m taking interest in the power of language. Each word carries a definition, but I’m under the impression that some words carry a very specific emotion. I have been playing with putting myself into emotional states on command lately, and this leads me to why I’m posting on your timeline!

You are a poet, and so you use words precisely. 1) Why do you use words at the precise moment that you do? Aaaand 2) which words or groupings of words carry emotional states that you get really passionate about?

Let’s have some fun shall we! “

This was my response, and I certainly hope you lot have things to add:


Ahoy! I’ve had some stuff come up, so I hope this hasn’t taken too long! In regards to your questions on word choice, I’m not sure exactly how to tackle that in that the two, for me at least, are linked. As an example of word choice that I use with respect to emotion and placement, here is something I encountered a while ago:

I was hired to write an article on electronic waste management. I used the word “pertinent” in reference to something that I don’t recall. I think it was a statement about how to handle disposal in a more sustainable way in future endeavors. My consignor decided that his clientele might not know what that word meant, so he changed it to “needed”. I was not all that concerned with my words being changed, but my meaning was changed, and that was not ok. We settled on changing the word to “required”, since the words, which essentially mean the same thing, have very different weight and connotation.

I would have to say that that is one of my largest deciding factors on which words to use and when. As an aside, it is very evident in this paragraph that I have a personal affinity for alliterations. Axl always appreciates and adores alliterations, after all. “Needed” is used so much that it is background noise in conversation. It’s soft, and was worthless in the statement that “pertinent” resided in. “Required” has a bit more girth. Conversely, if I were to say to my roommate, “it is absolutely required that we reassess how much fridge and freezer space is allotted to your 3 unopened boxes of frozen fish and lemons stored in ziplocs”, I am not really going to make any ground, as this is a very formal, cold, and almost robotic way to say that. It would, in that context and setting, be much more efficient and effective to say, “Yo, we need to divide our fridge and freezer space a bit more evenly”

The flow of ideas conveyed through a statement is also directly linked to word choice and presentation. Saying something clunky doesn’t work, even if your words and logic are true. As referenced earlier, I like alliterations. Many people do, I find. But the reason is not because they are cool (well, kind of it is, but you know what I mean), but because they sound “nice”. Picking words that go well together helps solidify your statement, particularly if it is not an idea you have rehearsed previously.

Let us compare the way that a scientific article and a play are written. A scientific article is written devoid of all emotion and only states facts and assessments as sentences. You could reduce most scientific articles into a series of bullet points. A play, on the other hand, uses scenes, characters, plot, etc as a tool to get you to follow a certain emotional path. In the end, if the writers of both did their job correctly, you would have an opened and potentially changed opinion of X, but they two pieces of text get you there entirely differently.


When we look at Shakespear particularly, and other writers who liked sonnets, there is an almost alternating balance between “hard” and “soft” sounding words. Not in the context of what they mean, but in how it literally sounds. This creates almost a bouncing, symphonic sound when read aloud. Some horror or “darker” writers will sometimes use entirely soft or hard sounding words for dialogue for a particular character, as harder sounds come out jagged and help us feel uneasy or distrusting of a villain. Likewise, the continuous use of soft words makes us feel sympathy, warmth, safe… and it’s very disturbing to read a supposed villain using that softer, inviting language.
We must also be aware that words are tools. A sentence can be a full idea, but usually you need a few or a paragraph to complete a thought. Words can be used to convey an idea by themselves, such as “Stop” or “No”, but these often only work in a specific context, like someone doing something that would illicit you saying “Stop”. If you were by yourself in public, and just yelled “No!” people would have no idea wtf you were going on about. Although I do use individual words on purpose, it is generally true that I am not using a specific word; but rather, I am crafting a sentence and that particular word needs to be there. You can build a car with 4 different size wheels, but it would probably not be that good of an idea. You can do a lot of overhauling to the vehicle to make those wheels and tires sit level and function, but it would be a lot easier to just use appropriate wheels.

A certain someone we both know felt extremely distraught after ending his relationship with a certain sportsball team. It was his decision, and the sportsball was an obvious dead end. During the time leading up to terminating the sportsball, he was looking forward to it and all that jazz. Once he did it, on his own volition, he became very depressed, felt like he let his team down, his family down, and worst of all, himself. It was his fucking decision to quit in the first place.

He kept saying he felt like a failure for quitting. I reminded him that he didn’t quit, he finished. He finished sportsball. Never heard another word about him being depressed about it, and he has gone on to keep some of his better sportsball friendships.


Let us compare the statements “I feel good” and “I don’t feel bad”. Excluding the whole “your subconscious doesn’t hold onto negatives” bit, we can, in general, say these two statements essentially mean the same thing, but we both know how much positive self-talk can help. Very rarely has shitting on a negative thought done all that much, but hyping up a positive thought is quite effective. I wish I knew more on this subject, but I think you can infer where I’m going with this. Further, to say that you “don’t feel bad” implies that you feel something other than bad, which there are many feelings that aren’t “bad”. Some of them are even negative. In contrast, if you say that you “feel good”, it is very direct and not subject to interpretation.

Sure I missed something and left some areas unfinished, but I hope this helps! I look forward to seeing how your use of words influences your emotional manipulation.


As an aside, as I was typing this, I got into a really cute conversation regarding the use of not words in place of words serving to do nothing but degrade the language and romanticize idiocy. The person in favor of tolerating stupid because “you knew what they meant” got quite emotional, insulting, defensive, deflective, and went so far as to actively lie about what I said (in text, so easily he could have fact checked) and accused me of being prejudice and oppressive for expecting people to use an actual word over some syllable salad nonsense. This person had the potential to maybe illustrate their point, but instead chose an emotional temper tantrum. As a result, their argument lost all meaning, since they were using the incorrect words to express it. If you want to get your point across, blatantly showing your own hypocrisy doesn’t help. We can learn from this person’s error by remembering that calm and collected word choice can get your point across, even to people who don’t agree with it, because you are stating a series of facts and ideas, whereas attempting to force emotions down someone’s throat leaves no room for dialogue and growth.