Photo By: Kris Berrios
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Friday, November 09, 2007
Into You
Everyday I walk past myself
Falling from lost leaves that scatter
Scatter across my soul
A forgotten match that strikes forth to you
Sudden to a sweet red kiss
Thrashing through the doves
Bound by sheets through sheer in and out of wet time
And earning that last deep and deadly kiss
Escaping into you
Falling from lost leaves that scatter
Scatter across my soul
A forgotten match that strikes forth to you
Sudden to a sweet red kiss
Thrashing through the doves
Bound by sheets through sheer in and out of wet time
And earning that last deep and deadly kiss
Escaping into you
Friday, November 02, 2007
Backwards American
I’m a backwards American
What does it mean when those who shun the desolate meaning of torture
Look away brushing the lint off their dark blue suites
I’m a backwards American
Living within a glory that has no sun
A fading light that falls across the eyes of children
A fading light that falls with every solider falling onto the hot red earth
Hot red earth
Looking for that day
Our daily bread
Washing away the hate and the lies
Open your mouths and take the wafer
Washing it down
Washing it down
With bile
I’m a backwards American
Watching everyday
As behind closed doors
Behind red oak doors
Words with a smile
A dark black smile
As the crow flies over our heads
As the winds blow through our hair
As a baby is born
As we die
As we make love
As we drink from the cup
As we end
Not understanding why
What does it mean when those who shun the desolate meaning of torture
Look away brushing the lint off their dark blue suites
I’m a backwards American
Living within a glory that has no sun
A fading light that falls across the eyes of children
A fading light that falls with every solider falling onto the hot red earth
Hot red earth
Looking for that day
Our daily bread
Washing away the hate and the lies
Open your mouths and take the wafer
Washing it down
Washing it down
With bile
I’m a backwards American
Watching everyday
As behind closed doors
Behind red oak doors
Words with a smile
A dark black smile
As the crow flies over our heads
As the winds blow through our hair
As a baby is born
As we die
As we make love
As we drink from the cup
As we end
Not understanding why
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Fascism is a feeling
Don’t stick to the arid dreams of decay
Thinking about your nostradamus nightmare lie
Who become the factors of our own demise?
Setting fourth a reality all to common to the bible,
How then walking up and down skidrow
How then walking through the streets of New Orleans
White trailer city under the thoughts of the forgotten
In a refuse society of the have knot’s
Fascism is a feeling
It’s like a virus
It pours into your rectum
Spreading out like fingers through your insides
It devours your sense of reason
The unknowable
You just start to believe.
Your function as a body
As a heart
As a brain
Soon starts to blacken and decay
So when the battle cries sound
You come around and lend the shell of what you once were
Over to what you have become
And then when you sit
Across from concentration camp 1,2 and 3
You lean up against a wall
And cry for the now
And for the should haves
Thinking about your nostradamus nightmare lie
Who become the factors of our own demise?
Setting fourth a reality all to common to the bible,
How then walking up and down skidrow
How then walking through the streets of New Orleans
White trailer city under the thoughts of the forgotten
In a refuse society of the have knot’s
Fascism is a feeling
It’s like a virus
It pours into your rectum
Spreading out like fingers through your insides
It devours your sense of reason
The unknowable
You just start to believe.
Your function as a body
As a heart
As a brain
Soon starts to blacken and decay
So when the battle cries sound
You come around and lend the shell of what you once were
Over to what you have become
And then when you sit
Across from concentration camp 1,2 and 3
You lean up against a wall
And cry for the now
And for the should haves
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