Recant(ation)

I apologize for thinking of leaving
the voice in my ear
had me under the influence
that my now would cure my occurring forever

Faithfulless ( A poetic memo)

she stays in my ear
when she doesnt stay near
and the distance is growing
and the volume is getting louder
im devoted
my passion and love are religious
and have been practioners of your doctrine
since our communion
studied your apocalypse stories
with fervent attention
but it appears
our end is coming- our end is near
our end is coming- our end is near
love aint supposed to feel like this
or maybe it is when its been improperly handled
im trying to return to the faith
I once knew, but it appears
no clergy are here
love is not meant to be worshipped alone
these pews have grown cold
from lack of occupancy
so proselytization is taken place
if not to know another diety
atleast to experience ignorance
knowing nothing is better
than knowing the wrong thing
so this memo comes on the brink
of self excommunication
resignation pending
lack of communication
the same spring feelings that filled me
are killing me,
this new voice of reason
isnt logical either
but love is faith based
when your services end early
its pamplets are passed out
I've read some before when i was younger
some are familiar
however im still your paritionar
however let me know if your closed
or looking for new members

Letter to a Friend (Runaway Martyrs)

this is where we last met.
in our thoughts.
congregated in our theories
-our perspectives never really synced
but we held a play list
that kept us to the beat of the same drum
and thats when our histories didnt matter
we wanted to become martyrs
and they die because of their future
being so potent, tales or told of them
and no one knows them
just like we didnt know ourselves
labeled ourselves rebels, because society
was becoming the bastard child
of our God, all praise YAHWEH
our rebellion left to defiance
against hands wielding help
because we knew of the price it came with
we were meant to be runaways
but when i left and you stayed
martyrdom became the least of your concerns
nobody dies for nothing
"nobody's" die for nothing
so im spending this time changing my social status
you didnt care, you were more rebel than me
and when we realized the discipline
necessary to become a martyr
was almost hypocritical to the free birds we became
i stayed and you left
and now our tales are different
and our roads to martyrdom are different
these bars that now hold you
must hold you.
try not to escape
but to face this moment
and let this system that was meant to hide you
reveal the rebel you are
now more disciplined
im waiting at the stake
im building a future so potent
its intoxication will occur upon thought
our thoughts
where we last met

sincerely
x of man, rebel mind

Death of a Virgin

Never cut
So pure, it goes straight for the veins
Interesting how some things in life remain
Pure and others become intoxicated
So the mind is both sober
And infiltrated
She kept her chin up
Bright eyed full of luck
Or unlucky how things changed so quickly
Her mood rings was always cycling
A shifting dis-chord makes a sound breakdown
But her instruments played for the hell of it
And when hell was its hottest
She turned to the note in the bottle
Her sips became movements
That would sedate her sexuality
Eventually kept it covered up but told everyone about it
2nd movement was amusement
Just to see where the road would take her
3rd movement (break)
was the one that landed on her dress
She was a mess by then so it was
On to the 4th movement
To buy some security
Insure her responsibility was hanging on her key ring
Which she needed a driver
But learned to do her thing
So underneath the bottle she sipped from
Everything she ever ran away from
She never let go
Next to the get-away, hanged her day to day
So she kept her legs closed,
Can’t let her God’s secret be so exposed
Not because it was God’s but because
It was her last gift to him
And the backlash from not having a present
Meant she felt out of place at the party
So she kept in a box
No matter how many drinks she knocked back
Even went on her knees in servitude
In a pseudo prayer it would stay locked up
And love wouldn’t leave
But problems were cyclical and crescendo’ing
So sips became more frequent
And less decent
No one got passed the box, though
Because no one knew where her heart was
It held the key to it
And they both had the same locks
However, hearts grow cold
And objects in life can get lost in ice
However with no caution to take the wind
Nothing ever changed
Nothing to solve her problems and few to look for the key
So she married her bottle
But they never conceived, only conceptually
Until what poured out her wrist was
Her alcohol and sexuality.

Do the church fan video....This makes you cry and laugh at the same time