Lost Treasures

The After Life'

Folder: 
Just a thought!

Your life has gone unnoticed , no statues in it's wake,

Only empty words and fading memories, for any one to take.

Even names are changed and rearranged after we are gone,

Our treasures sold at yard sales, ashes scattered on the lawn.

Anything that didn't sell gets hauled off in a pile,

Flying across a trash dump, is your last remaining file.

If your worried "past existence," and your trinkets are an issue...

Get a lawyer, make a will...You better take it with you!


    by Barry Anderson



Author's Notes/Comments: 

"The After Life"    

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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Within This Ocean

Folder: 
Lost Treasures

Within This Ocean (Lost Treasures Redux; 'Damien's Lost Scripts')
By: Matthew Wayne

In my mind, these thoughts not my own,
There is a lifetime of pain, it's all we have ever known
War after War, and now I dream of peace.
I watch as my thoughts become a curse
Amnesia becomes tangible within the ocean of the insane
and I continue to traverse this wasteland,
where one conscious thought sparks the birth of another promised land.

Death and suffering trail in the wake of this age,
an aftermath to be chained to ignorance, and left in your cage.
I have allowed the negativity to shadow over my doubt,
polluting my interpretation of my perception, to what this is all about.
I find myself lost and without a trace,
as my soul no longer walks in grace
but rather found going in circles and always in chase.
Driving myself into madness,
running in circles going nowhere fast.
Where have I gone? What have I done?
Yet still feel that I had tripped and fell in last.
Why must I continue on, pretending as if nothing is wrong
that within this ocean of lies, that somehow I must remain strong.

“People suffering everyday, and all you can think is to bow and pray.
To all of your unanswered cries, another soul dies.
Where are your gods when we need them the most?
In this life we are the host, the caretaker to every coast.”

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This piece is a little sneak peek at one of my last projects on the list, From my up coming book "Lost Treasures Redux; 'Damien's Lost Scripts'" As the name does sugest I am revamping my first book "Lost Treasure's Collection". Expanding on the old one as well as adding in content which I had left out in the last book. The Poetry that will be found in this new book will be the rawest it has ever been, Damien's Lost Scripts will be the medium for my thoughts to the world. I will not be surprised if nobody can understand them. I will most likely be posting a few more exerpts from this book, So as always love the feedback.