Zombie

Not knowing where to go
Running in circles with virtigo
Alive but dead in a sense
I see the end of innocence

S.O.S.

A conscious effort
A freemen in search
A time to kill
A time to sooth

HER

Heavenly forces of goodness
Entrenched into the depths of an evil soul
Repentance of affliction disregarded

One day

A Monday reality
The eternal downfall of a dirty mind
An eternity of hope

Veterans

Those whom served
Them who serve
They who've died
Thank you

A Man and A Twig

The door slams suddenly and violently. And in that moment fear struck the room like guilt on a rainy day. A man, beautiful in so many ways, enters his domain. The air runs and hides in its secret spot that air calls its panic room. Luckily on this day not a human being nor animal existed in these confines. From my understanding the lost souls that reside there as well were also gone to a free buffet with live music. This man wore an emotion on his sleeveless sleeve and this emotion lit up the room like the Strip in Vegas. Vegas baby. Vegas. Now, what we don't know is exactly what was this emotion. Speculation adheres that it is very possible the emotion, lit like the Fourth of July, was frustration. What happened next is again speculation and assumptions, but both from non perjured testimony of a twig. A twig that on this day was in the wrong place at the wrong time. A twig that felt a man's emotion. A man's frustration. Now the details are sketchy as we only have one side of the story. But twigs are known to be the most honest creatures on earth. But still. I question why the twig did not leave the room, the establishment. He states he would never abandon his family of twigs. 200 plus twigglies. What occurred was a frustrated man physically abused this twig. The twig suffered multiple injuries, but still failed to press charges. In fact the twig and his family have forgiven a frustrated man. As of this morning a man and a twig are adamantly practicing the art of FREEMEN.

InterIllusion

As I lay breathing the air that was not meant for me, I realize that I was not meant for this world.
I realize that this world was not meant for me. I take solace for granted on these days and wish for only the purest of molecules to wash away my sanctity. While I wear only a headdress on my bare body, I forge everything I dream into a tiny white capsule. On the outside of the capsule reads, "FREEMEN." With the movement of a magician the tiny white capsule disappears. My crown still rests upon my naked skull. A deep breath once more. The air that was not meant for me I ingest slowly as if there was only enough to last a mere few hours. The sky glows, vaguely uninterested in my deep thoughts of immorality. A gust of wind comes from under the earth. It has a sense of repeated emotional trauma. It burns. I feel as if I am immovable. I am not. My headdress remains undeterred. It is free. No equivocal amount of heat would melt this crown as its molecular structure has repented twice forth. My heart skips like an old Coltrane record. It will pass I tell my inner being. Hard rain begins to fall. Snow. I hear motocross. A laugh. I stand and shake the snow off my crown. And after a short lapse of reminding time, I continue down the path.

G vs E

He wears orange adidas pants.
He runs the world from the comfort of his lazyboy.
But he is not lazy nor is he a boy.
The authorities search endlessly to confront him.
However they do not want confrontation.
For they know he will not go easy.
They know he will not allow it.
Around the world, millions wait on the edge of their seat.
They discuss the wages of self inflicted war.
Most people pray for hope.
Others pray for hopelessness.
The world is split.
Good versus evil.
Necessary evil.
And evil works from the confines of his castle.