Saturday, September 3, 2011

Blind And Dumb

Blind and Dumb, that is what everyone sees of me.

Am I?
Or, is it just what I was created to be?

My eyes are open.
Yet, I cannot see what they say is there.

My ears unclogged.
Yet, I cannot hear what they say is calling.

Am I blind?
Or, just born into darkness?
Looking for the light?

Am I deaf?
Or, just born into silence?
Looking for a note?

Am I these things?
Or, is it my senses guarding and protecting me from the World and what it has become?

No music.
No symphony.
No glorious voices singing to me.

No light.
No magic.
No curtain to lifted.
No uplifting melody.

What has happened?
What have you done to the Earth which had begun?

Blind and Deaf is what I have become.
Or, is it just my senses protecting me from the World and what it has done.

"My Crime"

I was born, they turned aside.
I was taught, not love, but lies.
Left to Men of much disguise.
Came in my room while I did lie.

Knew my first Snuff at Two!
Guilt remained and came straight threw!
Beaten 'till I did know you.
Will you know me with my shoes?

Spent most of my time with Dining Rooms,
filled with people, using shrooms.
Dirty feet and ratty hair,
was the Sixties, were you there?

It was awful for the few,
that did master survival too.
Now were told by all of you,
our skills worked well when we were two.

Now, give-up and be the, phew!
That never talk or get rescued.
Doesn't matter what you do.
Go to anyone, they'll tell you.

Get over it!
I don't care.
Let alone want to hear of absolutely anything from there.
Take some meds!
Go away.

Survival Skills?
You're over age.
You could turn, you could be,
I will never forgive all thee.

My crime is heavy,
breaks my will.
I was born and cited, still.
Blow your head off.

Kill yourself!

All the words from Family Stealth.
I'm a leak, I'm a valve, 'till my crime,
I disinvolve.

Say I'm Satan's Spawns relief.
Scream and Yell I'm on my feet.
Running still in quiet peace.
Trying to get out of this, Please?

I don't believe,
just and accident of those that need.
Man and Woman making, Cheese!!
Just a witness of the sign,
that there was a real good time.

How is this my fault?
Why do I slave,
to be liked by Men in graves.
I gave up on what's called mom.
She is always setting bombs.

Honesty, to my delight,
is surviving every night.
Although, my nightmares haunt my sight,
I can preach no delight.

They are Godly,
I'm the Beast.
Named and Numbered to say the least.
What they said since my; Greased!

For every Man and his release.
This is my crime,
I do confess.
Take my life, I can't! Possessed!

Why would I help them out?

Of the guilt?

I might pout.
 Cause a tilt,
 in their lifestyle,
 in their minds.

I won't quit until I find,
Nip and Tuck, left you behind.
Tell me now!
What is the Crime?

Sheet Music

I am trapped in an upside down divorce of the soul and the heart of pity;
I know the way to say twirl or  "I" know that distress is not my call.
I have a cosmic phone to the land of the lawless and numbers to all.

They say that the voice makes no vocal sound.
The debate over a minds thought should be counted on one dial tone.
Placing what is important on the line that has no gold filament to portray for use.
Instead you would just say that I have the wrong number, I'm dead.

Weather permitting on the insistence of a coded fall
I would tell you to go to Hell
find your number, stand tall and know that you are on your way to a taste.....
what is not paid for, but developed by disgrace.

Saturated and immersed in the personality of what?
Just ball.

It is directly in front of you!
A friend disconnected for reasons of Dan.
A Biblical Repent!
A chance to roll the dice is not gambling on the roulette wheel.
Spinning you out of shape in a single bad luck call.

Take your cross and burn it at the feet of the last, second earth roars.
Snap the buckles.
Strap on to the boot of satisfaction, not of sin.

Forgive not yourself!!
For that would be counterproductive to what you did.
In my sleep of no factual gain, I remain robotic in response.

Release what is yours,
just to know that freedom is the cost of your Phen.

Die destructively.
Major key!! 
Play the notes of an heirloom treble cleft,
not of the Lions velour.

Slip into the depth of what is mauled.
Drumming? Cat guts twirling string.
Strung for the Harpists dream.

Playing a concerto of the minds eye,
gives sight to the workings of an original idea,
in process, by design and balanced, timing.

An hourglass of rhythm is sine.
Counting the grains of sand in audible rhyme.

Whether Report

On the battlefield of life.
In the existence of death.
Is a breath that most cannot conceive.

Why stretch the imagination,
when the reality of your own brainwashing,
is the concept: Splits three!

Take the chance!
Opportunity to point out,
the one that is boasting a reply, You!

Slapping the sides of your mind.
All that will not rot inside of your brain,
will remain. Do not complain.

The scarce message of foreign reply.
Verse in the tongue of backwards; Reverse!
Serves for the best, text, to be scattered about.

Talking of silence,
trembles the earth's core,
sounding off with the measure of more.