emotions

The Highway Blues

Folder: 
Volume Three

The Highway Blues

Found the right pill, the right combination
the cocktail to end all madness, and the peek is within reach.
All the sinners rejoice, it becomes the junkies choice.
Facing the devil in the darkness of our own hearts,
no choice but to see the evil in our own hearts
and we sing and dance, as we slowly fall from grace.

In the land of the lonely, those popular become kings.
Exiled into the minds of those insane, are those enslaved.
We are the fallen, the angels who lost their wings
gone mad with emotion, we trip to the flow of motion.
Found the right path, the right direction
the wicked kamikaze dive, for the finish line.

Passing strangers on this strange highway,
lulled into a false sense of being, if seeing could even be believing.
Constantly at war, constantly in struggle.
Even peace, could not bring comfort to your heart.
The world is at odds, seeing only shades of the full spectrum of the rainbow.
As you look everywhere but within to find yourself.
Constantly finding your path blocked, by your own creation.
We are ghosts living within an elaborate illusion.
Never obtaining anything of real substance,
hoarding priceless trash, that can give us a real physical rash
if picked, it bleeds, just as strong as our emotional needs
and here I go passing strangers once again on this highway.

Soul after soul passes by my window, trapped on this endless road

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Another little piece I just finished up (so again its a rough draft)
Some of you may realize this isint a typical style of writing for me, however not a stranger to it. I wanted to do a more abstract piece, I've always considered myself decent at these types of poetry but never my strong suit.... So what do you think?

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The Civilized Man

Folder: 
Lost Treasures

'The Civilized Man'

Who are these people? These strange faces surrounding me and my god they are closing in on me, going in for the kill. They want to tear the flesh from my bones and feast on my brains. Zombies, everyone of you. Insanity; the world is drowning in it and the lifeguard is off duty. Our outcome is bleak. It's tunnel vision on steroids with an ego to boot. Theses faces who can only focus on what is placed before them. There must be some, who like me feel so impacted by the sheer lunacy of their chaos chose sedation over a revolt of the whole damned system.
It is a joke, a mockery and we believe the dream within the dream, that ultimate illusion known as 'this reality'. We invest so much into this mad circus we quickly lose sight of what is real. Our minds trapped to old dogmas, with an ever closing narrow mindedness. A bigotry all our own.
You claim to be the civilized man. You want me to believe that you are guided by some higher sense of morality. You tell me that because you can break the genome, you are somehow educated. So once again you claim to be a man, when your actions reveal you to be Monsters, hypocrites, liars, thieves, killers, animals who act with malice and hate. Murders for pleasure, and you decry to me that we can be saved? For those who promote salvation find themselves damned and forsaken.
Those who shout for love and peace find their pleas fall on deaf ears. Its strange that violence has become the norm and those in opposition find themselves abandoned by the machine that is our “Freedom”. A civilized man would not need a master, but then again you are not a civilized man, but a savage in paradise, for the world becomes your hunting grounds.

'The God Within'

There is a man stalking the woods, hunting for his prey. As he enters into a clearing he spots his victim. Quietly he takes aim, then he advances and tonight this man will eat.
The trees lush with foliage, a gentle summer breeze. It is the calm before the storm, the silence before the chaos. When the sun hides, wicked men will play. Without faith, despair destroys courage.
I am man, I am human. I breath therefor I live. I feel so therefor I experience, and I know, I am self aware. Intelligent enough to know my conscious thoughts and subconscious mind. I also understand I cannot begin to fathom the workings of which yet becomes a gauge for our own morality. No matter how tight you make the collar, no other man's laws shall ever speak louder than your own convictions. Where your body becomes your own temple. Your mind and thoughts while not unique to the subconsciousness, they are your own and shall never be manipulated without your consent.
Evil exists within us all, a potential to sin and easy to harbor negativity. We have all stared into the black part of our soul to either embrace it or at the very least understand it. Our consciousness, our soul, that little voice inside your head that tells you that what you are doing is wrong. However with love there must be hate, a duality equally shared within you on the quantum level. For if there is evil in you there is also something good. It is through our choice of actions, that we manifest our reality. Knowledge becomes our key, to understanding a brain so complex that we only use a fraction of it. Forgotten and lost is our ability to tap into such a powerful part of ourselves.

The possibilities become endless, yet we still lack the very understanding of such a gift. Time and time again we gain a brief glance at the potential for such feats and marvels, When few people are able to unlock parts of their brains producing astounding works of art, or solving almost impossible complex mathematical codes.

“We all hold the key to enlightenment within our minds,
and retaining that blissful ignorance is still just an Illusion.
Where knowledge becomes the voice of truth, as I follow in the
steps of Odin, seeking answers to the mystery of all this.
Not of life or death, but the answer to my question.
If reality is that which I perceive it to be.
When will we awake from this lustrous dream?”

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is from Chapter 7 of my book "Damien's Lost Scripts" I hope you all enjoy this piece. I had a very difficult time in this piece, as Im sure it will show in flow of reading it... Finding the right words were quite difficult, and if this is any indication of how future pieces will go then I really am in for a hell of a ride.

Damien's Lost Scripts Chapter Three Excerpt

Folder: 
Lost Treasures


(Excerpt from Damien's Lost Script Chapter Three)

 

 

 

 

Chapter Three

 

'The Muse'

 

 

I grew lost within her seductive trance. Feeling the rhythm in tandem to the beating of my own heart and I knew the deal was just signed by the devil herself. My desire quickly escaped my grasp as I tried so very hard to remain strong and in control, however my passion took over and I once again found myself at the mercy of temptation once more. Was my fate finally sealed?

 

I had gave in, knowing full well the price to be paid. What I had enjoyed only moments before will now hound me until the day I die. That nagging voice in the back of my mind, whispering and taunting me that I had succumbed to a moment of weakness and for that another regret is burned into my soul, a reminder of a bad choice. A mistake that I now must try and learn from. “I had fallen for a dream, fell hard and way to fast. I knew it was doomed from the start, a dream never meant to last.”

 

When I wake. I will find myself alone as the dream fades back into the recess of my subconscious mind. My eyes will open once more adjusting to the foggy haze as it filters out the last remnants of the images and thoughts experienced only moments before. Washing out the old allowing for the new day to bring to me an unsung muse. Where in this life inspiration is nothing short of a gamble.

The deed is done. My soul bartered for some twisted carnal desire, satisfied by a fleeting moment. The devil stole my pride, as she denied me the gratification and instead chained me to the rack of desolation. Where hope, your only source for strength becomes contaminated by her greatest skill. She will speak lies to your ear and on this day when you look within that mirror, you will realize that you are facing the worst parts of your own self.

 

 

 

'To Woe'

 

For my friend of Sorrow by;

'The Dead Poet'

 

 

 

My beautiful friend, oh sorrow. I know you well

to even be there for me tomorrow. I've seen the pale stare,

from the dead rider with no soul, no whisper of care.

To lust for the Mistress of lost intent. Rape the
values from your heart to only then repent.

 

 

Save yourself;

The wicked children, who masquerade as men

sailing under a banner of sin, a game and nothing more to them.

Forgive and forget, the worse we get. Bartering flesh and soul

just to get your next fix.”

 

 

To woe, this bitter taste I know. To admit defeat,

every damn mistake I've managed to repeat. As sorrow

will be there shadowing my feet. The mocking joke

that this became my life, the same hidden gem in disguise.

 

 

Save yourself;

I slip into complacency in the way I allow others to treat me.

Constantly in a struggle for self credibility.

A vicious cycle that only perpetuates the loathing and torment.

To slip inside the blue waterfall, and gaze on perfection.

Dreaming of distant worlds, all the while

failing your own conscious thought.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I've decided to give you all a little sneak peek at chapter three to 'Damien's Lost Scripts' As you may have noticed I've posted several chapters of 'ThoughtShock' up on my vault here, This is due to the fact 'ThoughtShock' will be an online ebook as well. I however have not decided if I want 'Damien's Lost Scripts' to be available for download. I will of course post more information about the two books at a later date, lets just say ThoughtShock contains a message; My Lost Scripts however are of a more personal nature.... Hope you enjoy this chapter. and as always feedback is encouraged!!

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The Devil's Nest

Folder: 
Lost Treasures

The Devil's Nest
'Damien's Lost Scripts'

Get Out Now!, Get out while you can!. A strange voice shouts in my head. Where is this coming from the horrific images of things no sane man should have to witness. Look! There goes a two headed ape juggling hand grenades. The images alone could make you want to crawl inside some deep dark hole to never be seen from again, but the voices? Those are some devious, demented bastards I've ever encountered. They are my own I know this, but they are as foreign to me as the next face to pass me by.
All of this sober, well as sober as I will get but no hallucinogens have entered my body besides what it naturally produces. So does that make me crazy? Some would argue. When I look around and observe your world, the society I was born into. It makes me disgusted, so while you; obsessed with my sanity stumbles around in the dark blind to see what it is that I see. I may act insane, at times clearly deranged a facade designed to allow me to move around you unnoticed, undetected.

We are living in the devil's nest, eating supper at the table with our demons and skeletons. Breaking bread with the vary same sins and temptations that you run to church on sundays to repent, then to repeat, just to run back to the dinner table for seconds, thirds, and so on. I would not be one bit shocked if one day scientists were to find, discover or even label a hypocrite gene within our DNA. There is no need for a devil with horns wielding a pitchfork. For we are our own worst enemies, that nightmare that causes us to jump awake with sweat dripping from our face. It's easy to stand toe to toe against a stranger, the odds are in favor, with a fifty fifty chance. To face ourselves, the dice are loaded and the deck is stacked. The game is rigged for subconsciously we know our own weakness, to cripple our advantage. Time to storm the gates.

Everyday these strange faces slowly melt together into one big blur. Everyday these strange figures blend in with the mundane backdrop of a wasted reality, waking to the ignorance of existing. That somehow believing that since they are simply breathing they are living. They wake by alarm, drones jumping into routine, programed as they glide through the motions, The same thing everyday. The same thoughts. The same. These are the fools who judge my sanity, who question my morality. Those who would deem me unfit to care for myself. Yes that still bothers me quite a bit. The same people who would choke off any aspirations for creativity.
There must be something to the question of my sanity, if for any reason I could be called insane let it be known for the fact I still hold out hope that one day people will wake up. Move on from old dogmas and tear down a corrupt judicial system. That people will see that a soul can only grow if the body it inhabits is free and unbound by insane laws. I question the motives of any man in power, anyone who can by the stroke of a pen or in this age click of a mouse cause me to simply vanish without a trace.
I would like to say that it is not to late, that there is still a chance. Deep down I fear that may not be the case. That this cause has been lost, as things continue to get worse more and more will line up with their hands out expecting their nanny to take care of them, only when they realize that the system is broke will their eyes open to the true tragedy that surrounds us. That I see, that my mind processes everyday. Thoughts of a world wide melt down, due to incompetence and greed. Am I sane? As I sit in the devils nest, indulging willingly in a vast array of intoxicants. Watch while I seduce temptation and rape the devil. I will overcome. I will prevail. I am after all when everything is said and done a soul in a universe that is the true house of god.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is an exerpt from a chapter in my unfinished book "Damien's Lost Script's" However I have yet to decide which pen name I should put it under. The Dead Poet or Damien Nosferatu.... Such a tough choice. Your thoughts?

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Emotions

I feel the wind, but it's not there.
I'm breaking my skin, but I don't care.

My heart is dying.
My mind is crying.

My emotions are trying to kill me.
They're trying to strangle me, in confusion,
A Delusion.

My heart is crying.
My mind is dying.

The Emotions are,...tangled and strangled together inside.
Oh I hope they die!

Because they lie,
And I try,
To cry,

So why?
Ask them..... The Emotions.

But take caution,.....
The Emotions!

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tags:

Halloviven

I'd heard the term Lugubrious, as if directed by a slur;
mangled by the ugliness of its wherewithal - the consequences it implied.
It entrenched me in myself even further than before,
except this time I sought solution, or at the very least, a barrier:
something that would force me to stop.
Embraced by the fog, lead through spacious halls
with dim lights, heavy dust and vacuous appeal;
I was thwarted in my perils by a hole
that everything seemed to run to, and conclude with.
It gaped soundlessly, aside from the faint swish of rushing air:
robbed from the living by a manic and somehow empty glutton.
It was infuriatingly pointless, greedy,
and at odds with everything, everywhere, and would be forever.
It met me with its vacancy, accustomed and ensured,
until I sat and stared into its wide center.
There were no eyes to meet, but something transfixed me,
set a shake to spine, and became present.
I stood, turned, and walked.

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If you can tell, then why not take the next step?

Can you see through my eyes
The portal to my soul
Can you hear any quaver in my voice
And recognize my role
Can you sense the tremble in my body
The shake of my hands
Can you see my nerves showing through
With just a sideways glance
Can you understand my rage
When it comes through my actions
Can you tell when something’s truly wrong
By my impatient reactions
Can you tell when I’m joking
By the smile on my face
Can you see the seriousness
By my words at their fast pace
Can you sense when I’d rather be alone
And when I want company
Can you tell when I want to talk
And when there’s none of me I want you to see
Can you see my favorite and least favorite things
By being around me and seeing what I do
Can you see when I’m excited
And when my calmness get’s to you
Can you see my feelings for you?
If you can’t then I don’t know how to respond
But I guess friendship is amazing
Until we can move a step along

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I feel this poem lets some of my emotions show through, even though not all aspects are about me.

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ThoughtShock: A Manifesto "Preview"

Folder: 
ThoughtShock

ThoughtShock
'A manifesto'
By: Matthew Wayne

Chapter One
'Death Note'

Our minds can be such a beautiful thing, or perhaps our own worst nightmare. Where no thought can truly be original spawned within the far reaches of the human psyche. Exceptions given to the creators who can string such powerful words or emotions into a tangible way. A thought is more powerful than a simple word, it becomes a color, a smell, a taste and even an entire symphony of energy. Generally our brains are all wired the same, The trigger to it all?
Enter the paradox of thought. Science has proven that indeed we are all connected, physically our molecules are identical, chemically we share the same laws. So naturally one must call into question the possibility that with this connection as does our spirituality right?

One God or many, worship of one or of none? Where there are differences there should be at least of one common understanding is that should we accept that one great mystery within us all, and that is our Consciousness. The voice in our heads, the thoughts to an empty cavity of tissue. The brain, and the energy that powers such imagination and relativity.
We are the creators to our reality, the transfer of thoughts and actions. The energy into the spoken or written word, yet when no thought is ever original spawned from the limitless resources of the human mind can we question our own nature and simply observe the reality that surrounds us?

“I search for a meaning to the unknown
to study the reasons of the great mystery
and I bid my time till I learn the truth
for in the end I have but one question, Is this all?”

“Time can be the enemy, it can be a blessing
escaping us all once or twice, where years become just days
paths traveled, roads crossed, and the chances we took.
Where history is made with every step paved
memories slowly forgotten, becoming the treasure we retain
always moving forward, another second, another hour
then a day, next a month before long its another year
death always stalking you from around the corner, he waits.
For in time you shall follow and cross into his territory.
Chaos, disorder, perfection within insanity. The unknown
wilderness lit by energy and thought a living entity.
Everywhere, anywhere for all eternity.
Where there is one, there is another, an opposite,
for where there is nothing there will be something.”

Death can be felt an expression of thought, the feeling a man could wake every single day and feel death breathing on the back of his neck. Decay flows through his veins is a man born with the realization his days are numbered and the abyss beckons. This is about a man who embraced his own mortality that had affected his entire life. 'When there is nothing worth living for, death itself becomes a true temptation' When we live just to die. To complete the circle of life, creation and destruction, chaos in the grand illusion of reality based on the beautiful paradox which is the laws of attraction working in harmony with complete oppositions. A reality based on opposites. The abstract beauty of the whole complexity of our creation. Divine and elegant, the birth of thought a miracle in it's own.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is a little preview of an upcoming shortbook I'm going to be working on here and there when I find the time and motivation. ThoughtShock has been a project in the making for a bit now the goal is to make people think and to open their minds to make them ask questions, that will be the aim of this book "A Manifesto"

Addiction

Folder: 
Volume Three

 

~*~
Addiction

 

 

These pills they got me twisted
follow me as I'm about to get wicked
Russian roulette at the tips of my fingers
In this mad circus there are only hell bringers
Run, run little man, run, run till you can no longer stand
chase your fix, to get your kicks, the illusion is the trick
Addiction, a mental prescription, an emotional subscription
a slave to the obsession, till your staring down the barrel of that gun
and in that moment you realized you never had won.

 

 

It's a bad trip in the making
hearts pounding, nerves shaking
as my reality starts breaking
The wall, coming in fast
as the rush never does last.

 

 

A sobering thought, the entire world will rot
standing at the pillars of the lost
our sins bartered at the ultimate cost.
A confession before the devil, your own mimic
A perfect copy, no gimmick
The surprise comes when it speaks.

 

 

“Man in their infinitely gift to love and hate
limitless possibilities bestowed to those who can create
often finds themselves favoring destruction and death
forcing themselves to live with a lifetime of regret.
So that the forests of sorrows, and the mountains of misery
shall remain their friends forever.”

 

 

It can become an addiction, to find perfection
to chase a star, the illusion to an endless war.


 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

hmmm not sure about this one.

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