Sunday, July 24, 2011

What has become of all of this?




And here is more writing by me.  All before 2000 (I think):


Sleep would be a lifetime better than this.       
Is that too much to ask for?
Just a few years of sleep
Before I go on and grow up
Or just grow dead
To the situations bombarding me.
Sleep is such a prize here
Earned through labor of thought
And the process of art.
Exhaustion is not self-inflicted.
Sleep is not self-induced.
The pain around me is self-indulgent.
There is too much going on to choose
Between one and the other.
______________________________
5/2/97 7:45AM
Sometimes, when it’s really quiet
And I’m alone,
I can hear your heart beating
And little sighs and giggles
And all is well with the world.
My own vacuum releases and relaxes
The power of clarity
Into the valve at the base of my skull
Otherwise used for feeding.
____________________________
 (A dream)
I tried to call you last night
You weren’t home.
So I went to your house and I broke in.
I tried to find you
Thinking perhaps you were asleep,
All to no avail.

So I rifled through your possessions
Trying to find a clue,
Something to show to the police
When they took me in.
Some evidence.
Some proof of what I saw.
But the police never showed up and
I couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed
That I found nothing.
1997
________________________
Not a passion for digital alarm clocks - 11/19/96 1ish AM
Sleepy time visions of you
Of goddess of my sleep.
This moment separates one of 30 per second.
Images like forgotten gold.
It’s all there
Digital memory
Magnetic signals
Remembering how I feel.

Somehow in your poetic tragic
And your carefree whimsy
Both cynical.
This match of stories
Holds close to me in the pit of sentiment.
-That is a memory-
Captured in a moment of truth
Held above deception
And beyond question.
No more tiptoeing around
A ring of fire.
That is just another way
For me to say
I love you.
____________________________

12/13/99
How weakness of the mind can benefit culture -
Empty promises are still promises,
They still exist
In a world of ghosts.
Unfulfilled promises are rays of the black sun
Nourishing a negative harvest.
This world coexists
But motion makes us blind
And to the naked eye negative exists as unhappy
                                                               ~Bitter.
Here I watch thoughts leak
Through holes you drilled in my head.
I want to lift you from your ashes
But I’m no humanitarian.
Anyway, you don’t want my help,
You don’t even understand why you need it.
____________________
 12/28/99
Impatient
It’s almost the end of the world
Or some would have you believe.
Firecrackers or bombs?
We will all jump when they go boom.

I’m waiting for something to happen,
But I’m not holding my breath
And I’m not holding anyone’s hand
Because I’m not jumping.
I can’t even see the bottom from here.
And I can’t wait for the beginning
To happen again.
And I can’t wait for the fizzle of the dud
That will end up caked on your faces,
Like so much politically correct blackface
On the cartoon cat we’re supposed to forget
Ever existed.

Alone with my candle
The ferocious POW
Will fill the air with a cloud of smoke
Scented like daises.
And we’ll pack our boxes
And move to the next room.
________________________
4/20/97 7:58PM
Love is spiny tentacles,
Long and invisible.
Infect the skin.
Often only wounding the surface.
Shallow wounds are easy to remove,
A little rubbing alcohol on the skin,
A lit match… The poison is weakest in shallow infections.
When the wound penetrate through the skin
To the muscle or deeper
Serious or permanent damage may occur.
It is treatable with constant medication.
Take care of yourself.
________________ 
Human nature mistrusts magick moments
Magick in any length of time is a moment ripped
From the frame of understanding.
The bones have been replaced to make room for extra skin
To grow over the mountain of fingers.
Turning and fine-tuning
To the electric buzz of the universe.

Are you a transmitter?
Or a receiver?

Signals sent across a sea of moments
Frozen in plastic.
A paperweight of memory
Rips out the warm heart of nostalgia.
Then, a single glance
The softest odor
Sends you reeling back
To when we were gods.
But you can never fully recall anything more than total loss.

In the distance perhaps
A glimmer of the glory of pure joy
Could send you to your assumed recall.
Or the flash of electricity in the air
May put a smile across your face.
But sometimes it feels like that smile was stolen
Off of the face of a child.
And you’re so wrapped up in your own selfish past
That it only feels like heaven.
___________________  
 (so there)
It's a shame to see this kind of stupid alive and well, even if it's aesthetically pleasing. Or maybe it isn't hostile, maybe it is meant to embrace ethnicity? Or whatever. Fuck everybody.

Oh, by the way! A reminder to check out two new songs by

Beauty and filth live side by side. Each often invisible to the other.
Knowing this, perspective is at least partially a choice.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Poison Kills the Princess via remote viewing

 
Meaning is meaningless


 (some things I need)
Planted from seedlings on 6/1
A downside of work.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Poison Kills the Princess over and over again

New music by PKtP means good time for all!
The new track, 
is the soundtrack to the solipsist genocide.
It's time to wake up the dreamer & shoot them in the face.
 

Thursday, March 24, 2011

A few more words and wishes....


10/28/02
Desire for growth and fear of change                                                                      
Battle like marvelous machines.                          
The future keeps repeating itself
Cycles of revolution reject the inferior,
Humanity slows the process.
If the desire still exists, the cycle is not complete.
The genesis of communication arose from
The basest form of necessity.        
Language is the root of belief
Belief is the root of conflict
Conflict is the nature of Man.
And because we cannot defend our Brothers and Sisters
We would erase them
Or sacrifice ourselves.

_______________________________


2/14/01
Imagine the beginning of time,
A void births the Universe –
         Creates Life and Light.
It opens like a flower with no definite edge or center.

Imagine the edge of time,
From existence to nothing.
The expansion of the Universe
Silenced.
Matter becomes absence of matter
And there are no more Tomorrows.
Language is corrupt.
Wisdom distorts perception
To maneuver us to fertile pastures.
To push us to the edge
To make room for more grazers,
To seed more pastures,
To feed
To produce
To die.
I’m hungry.

____________________

Untitled *****
Sipping through the same internal straw
         Energy passes from body to body
         In heavy, viscous fluid.
Tongues licking the back of tongues
At the base of your spine.
Wings, free against a red sky,
Glowing like the end of the world.
I wish we could lose our bodies
In a magnetic stream.
Existing as harmonizing arms
of pure light.
A radiant ocean of unapologetic desire.
A thousand voices, sharing prayers
in the desert at the bottom of my spiritual warehouse.
It feels like no more problems ahead.
No more disasters
No more disappearances
No more holes.
This sacred scrap is all that’s left of me.

________________________________



******(here I am)
A constant flow
A constant flow

There will be no tomorrow

There is a film
And dust.
And the blood from my eyes
As I stare at the Sun
And remember
Everything
And Nothing.

Words in the air
Turn to god in the heart
Of the fool.

A long time has passed
Since you were forgotten,
Since you were young and free
Since you had the ability to be.
Before you realized that what you missed
Was not really anything worth seeing
Or doing
Or feeling.
Without feeling anything more than cheated
Even when you felt connected to something
that was bigger than you
and bigger than anything you ever knew
you knew.
Then it begins again
And something happens
But it’s not like regret,
So it’s not familiar.
But it’s not intimidating,
Like god.
And it radiates light
But not heat.
And when you look up
And rub your eyes
And see that the sun is still there.

___________________________



Untitled

If hostility is an art
Art should never be a career.
This pathetic emotion,
Provocative indoctrination into the
Academy  of Lust for Death.
This is not what I had in mind
When time was more abstract.
Is it worse to think of time as flat,
As something linear?
Or to think in many planes?
When the world can not be black or white
How do we lower our standards?
Being Human is a good start.
Like a candle in a whores cunt
Illuminating the path to a destruction of innocence.
Immaculately inconsequential,
My children smell you.
They smell your presence in the distance.
I feel like I’m on a mission from god,
Only god is this jackass dispatcher in a cage.
His name is Louie.
But don’t stop wasting time on anyone’s behalf.
___________________






And this is a pretty new one! And also the lyrics to a new song by,
Poison Kills the Princess
What to be Proud to be
3/15/2011           
My words are meaningless
My words are everything
So are yours
Our words are our voice
A song is a lie
Is a truth
Is always just itself.

There is construct
Conjecture and opinion
And we call it
The devil
And god.
The negation of self
Is all that it can be
And I’ve lost the current.
And the light was a string.
This thing and thought and nothing but now
Is now what it was
And never will be.

Turn off the sun
Turn up the static
Fine tune your breath with a familiar tune.
Long to remember and less to forget
And never before
          Before,
          Before,
          Before,
Before the left behind,
The forgotten,
The deceived and the broken.

I’m humming
I’m buzzing
I’m waiting
For nothing
To come over me.




Like what you read? Check it out NOW on soundcloud!





Friday, January 21, 2011

Everything is deliberate

New music from Poison Kills the Princess!
And a NEW place to put it!


There are two new tracks: 
Fuck the Heat 
and
In yr Eye

As well as other classic PKtP tracks!

 Don't forget, you can also listen at:


and

Demonic

or dead mouse