Nirvana in the Ashtray

Say All Your Preyers

From the hand of the foe to the prey of indifference

Scribble shoddy pentagrams between

The chickenscratch math drawn 'neath the lines

Not a bigot; but the same contempt for all

Want to rewrite history to be a new man

Or at least an 8th grader in some other school

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Organize thrash bands by region and lyrics

Love only art that captures their spirit

Reach for the place in the world extend so far

Just to close on air; you lost the draw

"Sorry but we can only have so many people

But you wouldve been my next choice."

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From the hand of the foe to the prey of indifference

Agnosticism yields optimism, but its not

Like anyone sees; just a hateful rager

Zero depth in the seams. Probably just pissed.

For no snideness comes out from your lips

But you're tested like you don't exist

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Subtle bullying urges you to bite the bullet

But you choke back withhold the tears

Take chances and face all those fears

There's nothing here for you; should have

Gone out state; this courtyard is a home

To wildly racist ghosts. There is no debate.

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From the hand of the foe to the prey of indifference

Are you reading Siddhartha with curiosity

Or just want to say you read Hesse?

Did Midnight Mass lead you to God

Or just give you the right questions

Curiosity is key but the anger is gone

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Comfortably convinced religion is shared ignorance

The most dedicated terrified of the light

Keep fighting to survive even when

Paradise is on the other side

Read and study philosophical discourse

Pick one, yield wholly to none.

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Lit Match to Bonfire

Nerves so dry and so brittle people catch ablaze

Dance on the thin ice like you'll never be next

Are we cancelling Hemingway yet let me know

He wrote down some nasty words in the other 20s

The lit match to bonfire, the vortex of pointed fingers

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Don't strap me to this bed yet, why do you have backup?

Ill take the drugs in the needle just stop staring

Its not Auschwitz; hell, weren't for people like you

I would likely be dozing on my parents couch

The lit match to bonfire, the vortex of distress

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Ideas to ambitions; ambitions to dreams;

Dreams to attempt; and attempt to failure

The flames don't just crackle they sigh

Theres a scold of disappointment in that void

The lit match to bonfire, the vortex of lost dreams

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Have we given the final slug to our climate yet

Or are we readying the nukes?

Are we gonna suffocate from all these damn people

Or just wait for the Sun to do its job

The lit match to bonfire, the vortex of apocalypse.

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Shadowboxer

Process your own being the way you do

The external individual; see how that shit goes

One of the many and proud, not a single one is one.

Lined up like schoolkids against the morning Sun.

Striking blades and firing weapons saying

"You're not one of us you just look ridiculous"

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Climb the hill of ennui only to realize

Youre reading Sisyphus and not Homers Odyssey

Find enlightenment and grace in your minimum wage job

Until you cut back hours and your boss calls you lazy

"I worked 45 hours this week, are you fucking crazy?"

I found fucking Nirvana once whilst driving for Dash

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In the infinite world of opportunity to follow

Feel free to explore or just drown your sorrow

The Earth will keep turning its indifferent

Its not a hero's journey, just another scandal

No puzzle to solve its just another stint

If God watched you on TV he'd change the fucking channel

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Flirt with absurdities, its not all bad

Why so serious when his grand schemes a joke

Crises of the soul wont get you that job

Or make her love you any more or less

It wont stop or cause a dumb tattoo across the chest

I found Nirvana once in a cigarette drag on the porch

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Some of us are gifted, privileged through knowledge or color.

Or maybe just lucky while a weird kid can just sit and suffer

Do you have the right to execute a landlady?

And if you did, would you suffer, shed a tear or none?

Or is that just the single shred of humanity

Being whittled from your specialness?

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Do we shed these shells or stay locked

Somewhere between the pupils

Screaming for help while they dig us a hole

Will we meet again one day, consciously or not?

Would it be better to get your contact or not?

I keep finding Nirvana, but it doesn't want to be caught.

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Twist of Fate

Cosmic implications destroying the distraught

Who can't seem to push up the colossal inconvenience

Even if it were to collapse back down

At least they'd see it on top; for just a moment

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Are the moments that make life worth living

As circumstantial as your dread?

Is being happy a fool's errand? Absurdist

Or nihilist it comes down the same

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We all win at Russian roulette once

Names spoken last; death come a second time

Did it matter how you thought of your

Being becoming the flames that burn the stars?

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The day to day indifferent, the grand scheme less so

Put down the pitchfork let loose the weight

There will be no hard labor today

Just sheer reflection campfire contemplation

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Make no effort of rewrites the book is linear

Just capture and record what's left

Dwell on inaccuracies and risk capture in a time loop

Sit and take a deep breath.

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Count down from a number, any number

At 0 there will be catharsis. Or a sigh. Pick one.

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Who Am I To You?

The lights stab through, a metaphysical snap

Bass a second heartbeat, fists airborne

And you scan the room and ask

Who am I to you?

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The air crisp and damp, walls concrete slabs

A pulse, an energy crevice the unspoken guest

Chatter whooping and laughter you ask

Who am I to you?

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You'll take the second step back, the retrospection

The step of only those with regret

And only after the contemplation ask

Who am I to you?

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Lines crossed for the multitude of time

The second step back the only way back

Dynamic budding and must find nurture soon

Who am I to you?