, , ,

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


, , , , ,


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


, ,

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


, , , , ,

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?


, , , , , , ,

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


, , , ,

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


, , , , , , , ,

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


, , , ,

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.


CCCXLI – Amethyst


, , , ,

Death is such a cruel mistress,
She takes what She pleases
I spy Her hair around the corner
when my daughter sneezes

Death always seems to take Her prey
as She plants the next
long before we’re even born,
our little lives are hexed

She comes to you with open arms,
claiming She’ll set you free
long I’ve sought after Her beauty,
not Her irony

Death is so coy, such a flirt
moist is Her forked tongue
how easily, Her love for me
has to hatred swung

I never thought I’d see the day
where I squandered suffering
to cross the Styx, I have no coins,
please take my golden ring.

There are a few pieces i’ve written in my absence, but rarely are they finished. I’ll try to get some up here. Hope all is well. Stay weird.

Holy fuck, people still come to my page?


, , , ,


This will probably be the last time I make some bullshit excuse to you people. I finally finished up the legal battle I was in, and have started to settle down from the festival I went to. Have a few pieces in my notebook I need to type up, but this is something I wrote there:


Guzzling Gasoline

Windswept eyes see sorry sights
thrown about the wastes
blinded by the soot and smoke
and frozen in the night
burning by the heat of day
and pissing liquor, straight
I take a sip of gasoline
to, at last, ride eternal.



CCCXXXVII – Skewed Reflection


, , ,

Could it be that I’ve been lied to
by myself and heart?
all my days, the skies are black
why can’t I just restart?
it always rains on my parade,
my roses: cursed to wilt
I try to find a greener pasture,
but there’s only filth
it taints my soil, water, and mind
I’ve grown calcified
all these fucking children crying,
my ears bled and dried.

CCCXXXVI – The Sorrow of Charles


, , , , , ,

Please excuse the delay, this took far longer to edit than i thought since i cant sing for shit

based on a song that my friend’s friend sung

Rye whiskey, rye whiskey, rye whiskey, I cry,
if I don’t get some whiskey, I’ll certainly die
rye whiskey, rye whiskey, rye whiskey, I cry,
which god will make whiskey rain from the sky?
rye whiskey, rye whiskey, rye whiskey, my dear,
I’d rather drink piss than smell one more beer
rye whiskey, rye whiskey, rye whiskey, my dear,
when lost and alone, my whiskey will steer
rye whiskey, rye whiskey, rye whiskey, my child,
it calms me down when my days get too wild
rye whiskey, rye whiskey, rye whiskey, my child,
the bottles I’ve poured, now they’re to the sun piled
rye whiskey, rye whiskey, rye whiskey, I cry
if I don’t get some whiskey, I am soon to die
rye whiskey, rye whiskey, rye whiskey, I cry,
I’ve run out of joy, so I’m tapping the rye
rye whiskey, rye whiskey, rye whiskey, my dear,
forgotten and fading, my only true fear
rye whiskey, rye whiskey, rye whiskey, my dear,
I’ve fallen from grace and I’m now nowhere near
rye whiskey, rye whiskey, rye whiskey, my child
I can’t soon remember the last time you smiled
rye whiskey, rye whiskey, rye whiskey, my child,
it seems from your heart, I have now been exiled
Jack o’ Diamonds vers’ a full house, ‘gainst the Devil, I would bet
I’ll drink all the whiskey that my hands can get
such a fool now, vers’ a full house, ‘gainst the Devil, I did bet
I’ve drank all the whiskey my poor hands could get
if the ocean were whiskey, and I was a duck,
I’d dive to the bottom and drink it all up
that sweet poison whiskey, it cost me my home,
it cost me my friends, so I drink it alone
rye whiskey, rye whiskey, my only love true,
rye whiskey, sweet whiskey, dependent on you
rye whiskey, rye whiskey, rye whiskey, I sigh
I’ll drink my rye whiskey ‘til I finally die
rye whiskey, rye whiskey, rye whiskey, I cry,
I’ll drink more rye whiskey while waiting to die
rye whiskey, rye whiskey, rye whiskey, I cry,
with every new bottle, I’m begging to die.

CCCXXXV – Rest in Peace, Van Winkle


, , , , , , , ,

I fell asleep in a faery ring,
endless sunset is this dream
I whisked away on a golden gust,
embraced by aether, and then moss
I bathed long in the rising sun
my beard grew coarse as the old earth sunk
my cheek kissed by a rising tide
until the faeries swept me high
I danced with faeries in the still moonlight,
as eons passed, I knew no time
I fell asleep in a faery ring,
a never ending, lovely dream
a mushroom circle came to me
I shut my eyes to count the sheep
the faeries took me far away
forever, this is where I’ll stay
I fell asleep in a faery ring,
I feed my dreams to the Faery Queen.
wrote this and a few others a bit ago, havent really had the time to make it on here.

CCCXXXIII – Hellraiser 391: Straight to Late Night Skinemax


, , , , ,

Her wicked nails, they dance up my spine
the taste of her lips, sweet poison divine
toxic salvia – I wet my tongue
eying the table where now her dress hung
she falls into me, I follow her lead
her teeth tearing flesh is all that I need
my blood gets hot as my eyes dilate,
a fistful of hair – I don’t hesitate
to rip her away, her sweet skin exposed
pulling her tight, she keeps her eyes closed
I kiss her cheek as I clench her back
tighter and tighter ‘til I feel it crack
I twist her flesh to rip off a prize,
finally, at last, she opens her eyes
she bites my lip, smiling, she tears
I push her down, back at me, she stares
our fingers lock, she’s pinned to the ground
with her free hand, so silken the sound
of her splitting nails as she slices skin
arching my back, embracing our sin
she licks my blood off her fingertips
so easily, off her bra slips
I look to her with lust in my eye
longing to fuck so hard that we die
it’s my fantasy to fuck the dead
she wonders how long my corpse will give head
inside her at last, so soft, her moan
I break her fingers, exposing the bone
on them, I gnaw, as I kiss her hand
“Harder! Much harder!” is her command
she rocks her hips, and I drop my guard
between my ribs, she slips onyx shard
“Hurt me!” she screams, and oh, I’ll comply
I twist her breast to relish her cry
she rips my ear – off, to the ground
I’m so entranced, I must be spellbound
too much blood loss, my vision now blurred
with only one ear, her pleas are still heard
I feel her tighten, contorting with bliss
my chest to hers for one final kiss
I take the blade that I laid beside
tracing her hips and taunting my Hyde
I grab her thigh for one final thrust
loving the fruits of our sin and lust
I come inside and plunge that blade deep
her body goes limp, but this one I’ll keep
she got to me, and she stained my brain
I feel her life pump through each vein
I collapse onto her, our blood intertwined
leaving two lovers for others to find.