Times like these I get the old itch but something is burnt in me. I don't know what to say anymore and as I dig for words I tear at my scalp as if to pluck them free. Complacency has ruined me. Stagnation will be the death of me.

I hate it, I constantly look for other creative avenues but all I do is overwhelm myself. Or is it underwhelm? Nothing is ever good enough for me. It's a family curse.

You and I speak different languages,
Yours made of beautiful images,
Mine of sad messages.

How can I possibly get to know you?
One that can make beauty look so true.
There is no use, words are so few.

When I speak of "Trouble on the Horizon."
You show me a coastal sunset.
People on the beach, always smiling.

You show me a still of happiness captured forever.
I tell you of the end,
the terror of human error.

Will we ever see eye to eye?
Will we ever stop hearing only lies?
Until then, don't say good-bye.

Current Mood: content

Damn I haven't written in awhile. Been to distracted with my myriad of illnesses.

Anyways, here's my latest poem, it's what I feel when people agitate me. Especially some people.

Pig-Poled

I hate your little piggy eyes
and your little piggy brain,
When I put you in the yard
you'll see the grass blood stained.

I hate your little piggy mouth
and your little piggy tongue,
when I cut it away
I will have so much fun.

I hate your little piggy ears
and all the things you hear,
the sound of your scream
will be of true fear.

The flaying of your skin
will bring me great pleasure,
one pound of fat
will show what you measure.

When I drive the spear home
and puncture through your bones,
it will finally bring an end,
a final amen.

Current Mood: cold

Mother's Dilemna

Waiting for the bombs to fall,
The nervous itch that I can't scratch,
The phone might ring but I won't answer the call.

I'm not really here anymore,
Picking at the scabs, my mother's dilemna,
I just need one more score.

I fear what I have done,
for all I have left is my regrets,
nothing else, no one.

I hear it now, the sirens call,
Pain or pleasure,
The air strike, burning free for all.

Self destruction is my game,
1 player only,
Isn't that a shame?


The Internet Vampire

There's a vampire at the other end of the line,
sucking my life away.
Minute by Minute, Hour by Hour,
This thing they call the Internet.

I swore my love and devotion to it,
once upon a time.
But it betrayed me,
hater, cheater, adulterer, ugly beast.

The changeling creature,
everybody's pitiable love.
Adaptable thing,
I thought I knew you.

I gave my life to you,
and you gave my life to others.
Where's the return
on such a painful investment?

A funeral dirge this is,
the lamentable loss of a life once had.


The Soberlings

My head aches from the rhythm,
of the death march outside.
The stomp, stomp, stomp,
of his followers, my friends.

I want to be one of them,
I play to the beat of the drums,
But when the bombs drop,
I won't stay for the end.

Why can't I be one of them?
Part of their fascist regime.
Blood is thinner than water,
But the apple didn't fall far from the tree.

The death rally moves on,
broken homes in it's wake.
Bible black figure of a father,
Standing proud, with droves as far as can be seen.

Spittle flies from the lips,
A chant of shared pain,
Thunderous voice of the mob,
The circle grows ever strong.

I live under the shadow,
This deep pit of despair,
Looking through the throng,
I want to be gone.

The Soberlings have come,
Their dead eyes stare,
At the beating of my heart,
Broken, laid bare.


Broken Dream

I wish to be free
From this sad broken dream
Cause the grass should always be greener in my mind
But it's only a bruised purple
And pain is the only theme

The things I secretly wish for
Only taunt me all the more
And with each new little cut
I bleed a thin stream
Through my heart thats torn

Through the pounding in my head
As my mind is slowly ripped to shreds
My glassy pupils sting and burn
As the lids slowly peel back
I know this is not the end.

A couple really old poems from my younger more angsty days.

Allergy

I can feel it seething inside me,
Patiently waiting for the right key,
I can feel its pain, its taint, its love
A familiar feeling that.

It is waiting for me and I am waiting for it,
Inside it waits for me to open,
To be free, to lose control, to be controlled,
To twist me, to torture me, to bind me to its will,
And yet it waits still

It chases me in my dreams,
And haunts the forbidden recesses,
that are the black pits of my mind,
And yet I crave its touch,
I long for it, I need it and it hides from me,
It waits for the touch that will set it free.

It rages against its bindings,
It tears at them and screams its defiance,
It was he that bound itself so, to hide from all,
It is pain, it is fear, it is anger, it is hate,
It is all these things and less,
For it is I and I am it,
It was, is and will be me,
My own Allergy.


My Life (And Death)

Oh, Life is a bitch
My mother is a witch
I'm falling apart
I don't know where to start

My dad said maybe
He didn't want to have a baby
My sister said yes!
She loved me the best...

Now I'm three
I'm stuck in a tree
My mom left me
And I've been stung by a bee

Now I'm six
I'm being fixed
They caught me
Fucking Emily

Now I'm nine
I'm being fined
Violence in the City
Oh what a pity

Now I'm eleven
I'm not going to heaven
I've been canned
Cause I shot a man

Now I'm fifteen
I'm getting out when I'm nineteen
I'm in jail
I'm surely going to hell

Now I'm dead
I wish I had fled
They put me in the chair
And fried my hair

Current Mood: nostalgic

Feeling quite sedated,
and everything is complicated,
I want to go home,
But this train wreck has laid me low.

I'm so sedated,
this feeling, it's underrated.

Trying to catch the liquid night sky,
The sun burn from flying to high,
Black and blue mottled
like green death in a bottle.

I'm so sedated,
Medication, it's dedication is overrated.

Am I awake,
When I dream of day?
Or am I asleep,
my conciousness so week?

Why am I sedated?
Numbing myself because I'm hated.

Can't feel finger tips or toes,
while a faded song plays on the radio.
This feeling is evaporating me,
to the ceiling I no longer see.

Drifing in this sedation,
highly rated obliteration.

Some song lyrics/poetry I wrote:

I don't want your pity,
I don't want your sympathy,
I just can't stand it,
I need to be free,
Of this Blasphemy.

I don't want your lies,
your twisted little highs,
The pain that you cause,
killing all my time,
eating up my inside.

Fuck you and your pity,
Fuck your damned sympathy,
You just can't stand it,
Your need to be free,
of this catastrophe.

Why can't you see,
what you do to me?
Splintered bones,broken heart
The deeper the wound,
the less it will bleed.

Where's your fucking pity?
Where's your fucking sympathy?
No one can stand you,
Your bullshit lies,
Why don't you go get high?

Current Mood: contemplative

Without further ado; The latest piece to the puzzle in my head:

http://www.peglegproduction.com/koolaid.htm

This is a work that I plan on continuing, I hope to release an episode each month and am going to put together a little web-page for it. Feel free to let me know what you think.

Current Mood: nostalgic

I would like to start by admitting that never once in my life have I voted. I personally believe democracy is but a dream turned into a nightmare.

"If we apply this principle of "thesis, antithesis, synthesis" to forms of government we see aristocracy generating democracy, and democracy changing before our eyes into a nameless novelty in which the aristocratic principle of guidance by trained ability may be united with the democratic principle that no man is good enough to govern another without his consent."

"For the economic bases of democracy -- free land, free competition, skilled labor, simplicity of tools, the economic self-sufficiency of the individual homestead -- have disappeared. In their place have come abandoned farms, crowded factories, congested cities, monopolies and mergers, centralized financial control, costly tools purchasable only by rich corporations, and masses of population easily manipulated by interesting misinformation.

The complexity of industry; the geographical expansion of America; the development of intricate foreign relations; the possibility of war; the replacement of political problems by economic problems, arising by hundreds every day before officials, elected not for economic knowledge but for political skill; the consequent diversion of power from elected incompetents to appointed experts and boards -- all these factors have cooperated to make the "free and equal" vote a delusion, and democracy unreal, a pretty window dressing for the rule of machines adept in herding votes, distributing favors, utilizing crime and barring the road to office for all but the subservient and corrupt."

-Will Durant, "Is Democracy Dying" 1930

Yes, if democracy was dying in 1930, it surely is dead today. Will Durant was a brilliant, pullitzer prize winning writer, philosopher and historian. In truth, he was a bit of an idealist. He goes on to state ways in which he believed we would correct this disaster of a government. But in three quarters of a century we've only taken further steps down the road of corruption and have consolidated power in a new aristocracy.

"We cannot be satisfied with this kind of democracy any longer. We must try to rescue democracy from these urban masses that lend themselves so easily to its frustration. We must find a way of stealing the (theoretical) virtue of aristocracy – the restriction of office to individuals fitted for it by lifelong specific preparation – and inserting it into the principle of democracy, that every man and woman should have an equal chance to rise to the very top. Let us redefine democracy, not as the equal right of all to hold office, but as the equal right of all to make themselves fit to hold office."

We haven't taken the good values of both democracy and aristocracy that Durant believed we would use to create a new and better democracy. We've only taken the corruption of both and created an aristocracy that uses democracy to pat itself on the back for how grand it is.

The current administration has misled us, told us not to think for ourselves and forced us into a war for it's own profit while using the horrors of 9/11 as an excuse for everything. The grim truth of our nation is almost too horible to contemplate but we must! The president tells us that if we don't think the way he does then we are the same as the terrorists, but the only thing that currently distinguishes and seperates us from them is that we do think for ourselves!

Every day I grow more and more afraid of our own government. Afraid for myself? No. I fear for my son, for him growing up in a nation that is run by self righteous fools who use fear to rule. For a nation of democracy that would allow itself to be led like sheep to the slaughter.

I fear for him. I fear.

I can't keep my eyes open anymore but I can't seem to sleep. I need to bleed it out, pour another story out of the open wound that is my mind. The words, they seep. I can't stop them. I keep trying to work, but I keep slipping into my lucid dream.

Yes, it will be soon. I will finish another great work. As if I've been possessed by some greater being than myself. I keep trying to focus on other things but it batters at my brain and rips the words from my tongue.

Soon, very soon.

Current Mood: anxious

I watched a fly die today. It dropped out of the air and landed in front of my keyboard upside down. It kept twitching until it slowly stopped. I'm not really sure what killed it. Probably the same thing that's killing me.

I wanted to smash it and put it out of it's misery. The damn thing landed on some paperwork. I still don't have the energy to move it off.

Twitch. It started again. I thought it was dead. Forget that, it IS dead. It's just in denial.

It's been twitching for an hour now. I haven't gotten any work done. My head hurts.

It's still twitching.

I want it off my desk but I can't bring myself to touch it. The thought makes me feel ill.

Twitch.

It's finally slowing down again. I still haven't gotten anything done. I can't stop staring at it.

Twitch.

I want out of here. Away from that god-forsaken devil. Away from this shit.

Twitch.

let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out

LET ME OUT!!!!!!!!!

Current Mood: cold

My head hurts. There's a constant dull ache at the base of my skull. Exhaustion has overtaken the rest of me. I'm constantly hungry to the point of pain but the thought of food makes my stomach revolt.

It didn't start this way. The pain just oozed into being. It's slowly draining away all meaning in my life. This wretched existence just keeps repeating the same mistakes.

You have to grin and bear it. You tell yourself it's worth it. You have to pay the bills. You have to put food on the table. You have to be the family man. You have to fix the sink. You have to placate your god. Each thing cutting another little piece of you, while you put on a happy smiling face for all the other soulless white picket fence facades.

Find another place to hide for a moments worth of pleasure. Play another game, read another book, watch another movie, take another drink, take another hit. Anything that will let you forget for awhile.

It starts to get to you after awhile though; numbing yourself this way. You stop being able to decide on a game or a movie. You find yourself staring at the same page of your book for hours at a time. Drinking used to calm you, now it just makes things agitate you even more.

One moment you feel dazed, the next you feel pain and then anger and then back again to damn near delirium.

And it will never, ever end. No matter how you try to fix. Talk about your problems, they just come back. Sedate yourself, you'll just wake up. Burn your house down, you'll just buy another.

You'll keep trying until your head bursts from the pain. Just like me.

My head hurts.

It hurts.

S T O P !

Current Mood: crushed

It's killing me. I think my head's gonna split. I had a hot dog, but now what? Watch TV? Read a book? Play a video game? Which game? What book? What show? The clock keeps ticking away and it's slowly eating away at my brain. I wish I could stop time, just so I could make up my mind. But I'd problably just stop myself and never move again.

Why can't I stop going in circles? Perhaps I should stop and do nothing, cave in? But then I'd have to decide to give up.

My eyes ache.

Maybe I should go dig myself a grave? Or maybe I should go turn myself in?

My feet hurt from the pacing.

Maybe I should just take a drive? Or a walk?

I feel Nauseous.

Maybe I should just hang? From a rope.

I'm gonna be sick.

Maybe I should...

MAKE IT STOP!

Current Mood: discontent

Is it wrong that I constantly feel like strangling people that are better off than me? I know everyone feels envious every now and then, but do they feel it to the extent that I do? Sometimes I feel it so strongly that the only way for me to stop from hurting someone is to dig my nails into my palms as hard as I can to distract myself.

The president of the company I work for came to our plant today and the urge to inflict physical violence upon his personage was so strong it took all of my will to prevent catastrophe. Even though I knew it would be the end of my career here and eventually that it would destroy my family, I almost couldn't hold myself back. An hour after he's gone and the need to hurt him is just now starting to recede.

I don't even know this man, it's the first time I've ever seen him. I don't even know his name. I only know what he represents. Does this make me a horrible person?

One of these days I'm probably gonna snap.

Current Mood: aggravated