Hate

I'm Waking Up

Folder: 
Volume Three

I'm waking up.

 

I raise my glass, to this life as I walk that line never knowing if what I'm doing is right.

I had lost my faith and came close to just giving up.

Drove hard and fast as I gambled it all on just my luck.

Left abandoned on this highway of pain, this road of misery

lined with banks and gas stations it is a real slaughterhouse facility.

To the Tar pits for our field trips out on this new Vegas strip.

 

Reach out and strangle someone and when your scared you will always go for that gun.

We allow fear to keep us captive always struggling to find ourselves.

Searching for that reason to keep fighting deep within our own hells

and when that swarm finally does break and you can see the silver lining on the horizon.

Redemption was not cheap, salvation was not easy and one day you will see that sun.

To the pits of hell for our quest to fail, on our dreams we set sail.

 

There is no voice to the words now spoken, saying everything and knowing nothing.

Holding onto the last of the shadows left in the room as the bad taste is still lingering.

Walking around blind, searching for something we lost but will never again find.

It was the past. It was a lesson to teach us to value and to understand the meaning of time.

Nothing will last if we continue our course. The ship will sink and you will drown.

To this day should I survive it any other way, on the wings of hope I would say.

 

On the edge of this cliff, the precipice of our sanity becomes the alter to our suicidal tragedy.

At birth we are conditioned to believe in the lie, that vanity even matters.

Talking a big game but still acts like money trumps a child's laughter.

Where greed and obsession became the cancer eating away at man's heart.

These are just a few addictions to our wicked sins that is tearing our souls apart.

To the energy that never dies, a heart that never lies on the tears of those who never compromised.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Just finished this piece up a little bit ago, all new. First poem in a long time where I have not used old writings for refrence or ideas. Part of my muse for this piece came from a dark dark place my opiate addiction infact. However my outcome may play out, this I believe is at least a good sign in my own tirals yet to come. Your thoughts on this title? I think I still have a shred of skill haha :)

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Fatally Accepted

Folder: 
The Rest

It vacillates, that pride in self
Spins from more than enough to apparently nothing at all.
Professionally and in portions of private
Bound up by the varnish of confidence
Then in corners of lonely and doubtful
You see the surrender of self
The brief look at things to improve
Then the slow easy slide into what’s the point
People know and care and support
Expect nothing more than what it is
Excuse temporary self-centric aberrations
Excuse self harm in the form of indulgence
God what a sick making irony
Close to all that you can mentally be
While physically acceptance is fatal.

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Don't Call Me Beautiful

Dont Call me Yours...Dont Call me Crazy You Havent Been Around to Know For Sure

Waiting for an excuse to tell me why you never Came I Missed You so Bad I went Insane....dont call me Beautiful Dont Call me Sweet You Havent Even been Around to say dont be so sorry if you and I Know You never were in the first place.. Dont Tell Me You Care Because Obviously you didnt Dont call me Beautiful because inside is rotten...because while i waited our loved expired and this ugliness Expanded.. Ive Never Been So Hurt And Abandoned.... Dont Call me nice...Im Cruel now...The Old Me Is Dead and You were the one Who Dug the Knife In....Dont call me Beautiful....I Agree with William Control..im A Beautiful LOSER And Death will take Its Toll so as the hour glass Drops its last few grains of sand...I Weep because I Once Had The Heart To Let You In... Dont Call Me.... Dont Tell me Im Beautiful.... Dont Tell Me you Miss Me...Because by the look on your face....Im Just Ugly... so please dont Sympathize me... -Sincerely,Your Dead Horror Queen

All I Hear, All I See

What is this?
What did you do to me?
Everywhere I look,
All I see.
I see a face in a crowd,
and for a brief moment it's yours.
I hear a voice stand above the ambient sound, saying my name out loud,
And I swear it's yours.
I can almost guarantee that once I turn around that you'll be the one I see.
And once In a while I'll be having a good day and it really is you calling me,
But most of the time I'm not that lucky.
It's not that I don't like seeing the face of another friend,
But when I don't see you, my hopes for the moment just come to an end.
And for just a quick second I think "ok, that just ruined my day, don't talk to me."
It's like being shot through the heart, then through the head, yet still kept alive, just left for dead.
All because it wasn't you calling out for me.

All because it wasn't you that said "HEY ______!"

- The Coward

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I'm aware I left the last word out. I only write anonomously, so think of it as a guessing game.

 

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What>

 

 

 

 

What?

 

You are up

 

You are down

You spin me around

 

You hate me

You love me

Your silent

You talk

 

Does this poem confuse you

Cause you confuse me.

été

-J. Wallace

2010

 

 

 

 

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Heaven's Door

Lost in this theocracy

Lost in this theology

Lost in this technology

I still hold on

 

Stranded in darkness

Moping in blackness

Struggling in madness

I still see a light

 

Torn into pieces

Ripped inside out

Stripped of sanity

I still wish for redemption

 

Blinded from nature

Ignorant to what’s pure

Voided of love’s feel

I still dream of a light

 

My mind’s eye shattered

My center shaken to the core

My heart gut-spilled splattered

I still knock on heaven’s door

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The Creatures in the Well

Folder: 
Poetry

My hateful thoughts go in the well,

My bad emotions I do sell.

But it draws me back,

And what do the beings in the well lack?

 

They try to touch me and suck me in,

But this I of course do win!

For the Cultist pulls me away,

By grabbing me gone from the scene.

 

Now in the house I watch,

Through the window it does match.

And always the snow is there,

But I don't know where...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A vision I had through meditation.

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Narcissism

Pain

Again

Like blood running red

From a bullet in my head

I am my worst enemy

And I just lost a battle with me

See, it’s clear

I am the one thing that I fear

For I can only truly be free

From anything other than me

I want to do good, I know I can

But in the mirror is a man

I don’t recognize

Whom I despise

Because it’s me I’ve idolized

I,I,I,I,I,I,I,I,I,I

I’m sick of the lie

That I’ve been handed

That I’ve been branded

That the world revolves around me

It can’t be

Or else I wouldn’t be in this mess

To keep God God, I’ve learned is best

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Exit Humanity

Folder: 
ThoughtShock


Exit Humanity.......

 

 

As the bombs start falling,

your preacher comes calling.

The whiskey bottle hits your lips,

ten minutes later your on stage counting your tips.

The assholes and whores get all the tricks.”

 

Looking through the empty glass,

while slumming it up in first class.

Your hypocrisy flows like wine,

as we all wait in the devil's line.

You wage war in filth till nothing is left standing,

it's an overdose as your heart starts pounding.

 

They want you to drown as they pull you under the tide.

The reaper's hand is cold as you now struggle to survive.

 

Let's all celebrate our coming destruction,

conduct orgies to our suicidal obsessions.

Death will be our calling card.

Exit humanity, shit just got hard.

In our apathy to commit an atrocity.

Violence under the guise of abstract lies.

Let's all celebrate, this insanity we embrace.

It's the sacrificial rituals that we create,

the myth that we cannot tempt fate.

 

And goddamn this fucked up land,

the man who cowers behind the backhand.

The self righteous, a bigot to their own vices.

March for the lie. Abused until you die,

become the victim and lose your pride.

It's a morbid device, to need your virgin sacrifice.

Slay the innocent to satisfy your god,

butcher the heretics it's not flawed,

as you steal from the poor its not fraud

 

It's a morbid device, to build up your own Antichrist.”

~~

 

 
 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

"and so I say, I believe I am about to reach my limit of stupid people and my god there are many of them, an ocean of stupidity surrounding a dingy of sanity"

 

(Updated; From ThoughtShock)

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