Anxiety

DATE: Jan 05 2009, 4:34 pm / MOOD: Angry

im almost gone ,did that suprise you ?

did you really think that i would not cop wise to your dark and filthey plans,even tho the other conspiritors,and they are many and varied ,who are also infected with the intrusive myasma,hereafter referred to as i/m although they have all tryed to bring me down oh i know they all hate me they are all planning to destroy me and drag me back to that festering stinkhole they refer to as a hospital ,but i shall beat them and i shall expose this horror for what it is ! a cruel and evil plot to destroy the brains of the worlds greatest thinkers ,and oh yers if it were not for my gigantic brain and its thinking power which drwarfs that of lesser men,oh yes if it were not for the power of my grey cells i would have succumbed to the filthey stinking furrey grey bacillus that the i/m spreads like a cancer ,the rotting pulsating puffy green sputum that runs from my nostrils is proof beyond proof that they have attempted to infect me but my massive cerebral juices have protected me ,from the furry black palpatating egg sacks acidic slime ,how did i discover all this read the 64th psalm and you shall know ,i will be amongst the asphalt beavers that roam the streets beware if you are part of this cabal this demonic star chamber i have you down in my book.

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DATE: Sep 03 2008, 4:23 pm / MOOD: Lonely

some time ago i wrote a poem called the circle it was my attempt to take the subject of child abuse and tair away all the psych-social treatment terms and sshow it for what it was horror depoilment pollution and destruction of a young ones soul and a sentence to carry it for life,up till now i have not posted it due to its rather bleak subject matter but recently someone told me that my writing might actually help someone who haqs gone thru the same thing in that possibility i now post it but be forewarned it can be "triggery" so proceed with caution and to anyone who feeels like they are all alone believe me you are not.

when johnny was ten out on the old farm

his father took him took him to harm

just like his father had done it to him

with whippings and rape when full of gin

 

the old grandfather took him

 

  out to the old shed 

whipped him and chained him

and took him to bed

the crys in the night

they all went unheard

and the victims never spoke

not even a word

 

abuse is a circle

it goes round and round

forever repeating till 

its brought to the ground

unless someone stops it

it gos on evermore

tonight in his room 

johnny locks up the door

 

inside his head is a screaming red hell

he sees all the pictures

he smells all the smells

the taste of blue steel is cold on his tongue

as he relives the horror

of when he was young

he never recovered

no matter how hard he tryed

and now in this second

the circle has died

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DATE: May 28 2008, 11:09 am / MOOD: Sad

sparkyling diamonds that dance in the night
crystal blue colors that turn into white
as the rain slowly drips down the blue granite stone
im reminded of friends all who,ve gone on


theres a young boy besiide me
his heart full of pain
he clutchs the flowers as we stand in the rain
his tears they fall down like droplets of stone
as he crys for a sister who will never come home


her name was kaitlin kaitlin marie
sweet like a china doll for the whole world to see
but daethly dark forces they worked on her soul
they tore her apart and then ate her up whole
scars on her left arm
burn marks on her right
and loud sobs in her pillow most every night


i was her friend
and i loved her well
as for if she loved me no one can tell
and her father who should have
condemned her to hell
hot greasy hands
in the cold bitter night
stole all her innocence
and filled her with fright
till she gave in to cutting and burning and hate
she welcomed the madness
and consoled into fate


so we stand in the rain to make our last sweet goodbye
too long she did suffer
far to young to die
a bouquet of flowers in a basket of wood
for we loved her so well
like the world never could.


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DATE: Mar 02 2008, 1:03 pm / MOOD: Angry

deep within the mossy woods

long ages gone to misty rot

there sits an age old suplecre

whose word tho dreary shant be forgot

i stand here in this place of mornfull woe

where spirits sleep an unrestfull sleep

and sane men dare not go

  i go there in the evenings when the yellow sun go,s down

to expiate a demon

a s evil thoughts inside my head abound

i am home in my screaming place

where blood drips on the walls

amid tortuous black depression

i run screaming thru the cracked and moldy halls

alone alone amongst all the world

in my prison of the tortured mind

open me up and look at me

but you may not like what you will find

 

 

the agate marble mauseleum

where ruth rests her pretty head

makes a most proper old museum

for the bones of the newly dead

 

down the corridors of my mind i wander 

scenes from a life misused

a child i see lies bent and weeping

so battered and abused

in dreams of sorrow i run screaming

thru the hallways of my mind unswept

to the precipice i walk unheeding

i hesitate but a moment then i leapt

across a bed in a chaep hotel

my mind lay seeping down red scarlet ribbons

amid a cascade of flowing blood

i lay begging to be forgiven

red concave lines they cover my chest

my mind is flooded in rivers red

my passion to satiate

 a grande guignole is played out tonight

in vignettes written in my mind

come nearer now my dear ones as my sanity unwinds 

 

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DATE: Mar 01 2008, 5:24 pm / MOOD: Angry

my psych counselor keeps tellling me to concentrate on the positive i wonder how the hell they can say that to me ,do they know what it feels like to hate your own living guts  to the point of wanting to kill yourself half the time all my life i have seen the face of hatred when i look in the mirror,self inflicted beatings and cutting and burning how does one just change all that and smile happy thoughts ,oh oh look at me in just groovin on positive rays man and im high on life ,what a load of new age psycho babble bullsh*t,i struggle every day to  keep from wanting to blow my own head off ,and the only relief i get is my writing and they tell me try to write light and happy themes just how do i do that when my mind is flooded with dark visions and depression ,that screams to me in the middle of the night i just dont understand how the hell i am supposed to do these things they ask i want to stand up and scream at them to shut the f@ck up before i shove my fist into their self appointed faces , oh hell


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DATE: Feb 27 2008, 5:03 pm / MOOD: Angry

cruelty times ten in a locked and bolted room

shackles dangle from a rusty chain

descending waves of terror

advancing clouds of gloom 

walls coated with dryed and aged  blood

unheard crys for help

ghostly crys for mercy that come in a towering flood

the scent of cheap cologne and whiskey and sweat

shattered lonely childhood

black morose regret

 

inside the lonely garrett

sits the pedophile prince

his thoughts are blackened evil sin

dark enough to make the angels wince

turn the circle ever backward to the childhood before

where he was bound and tethered to an old oak cellar door

the uncle then the villian

catching him in the snare

to break him and wound him with jolly hell

and never gave a single care

black sexual cravings of a cold and bitter stripe

hot greasy hands holding him down

molestation was ripe

 

when johnny was ten in a wooded old shed

his brother took took him to dread

whipped him with belts and branded with ash

defiled his body with lash after lash

just like his uncle who,d done it to him

stole his small body when he took him to swim

and his father before him out on the old farm

broke him and stole him and took him to harm

 

abuse is a circle that go,s round and round

forever repeating till its brought to the ground

 

tonight in his room johnny stops the whole show

trembling with rage he has but one way to go

the taste of blue steel is cold on his tongue

as he relives the horrer of when he was young

scene upon scene of screaming red hell

he sees all the pictures

he smells all the smells

and then on the trigger some pressur,s applied

and now in this second the circle has died    

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DATE: Feb 25 2008, 5:35 pm / MOOD: Lonely

i left the place you call the world

and travelled to the screaming place

where midst razors and blood stained walls

i stared my ugly soul into its face

an ugly dark depression had scarred me to the bleeding bone

a loser shown to see himself

has none but ugliness to stay with all alone

lost love a tear stained bloody envelope

lays upon the floor

and friendss who,ve gone thru the final fatefull door

i sit a lone survivor

in this wreckage known as life

down corridors of memory

i travel searching for some reason to explain

but all i find are ever expanding waves of sorrow

and jolting bolts of seering pain

i go down by the river where the willow trees are all stagnant and dead

the black water runs thru its rotted roots

as the black and evil  thoughts run through my head

i dance on the edge of sanity

the red line is fine

it sails acrosss my mind

a flooding river of sweet release

consumes me till i,m blind

ah yes the surging explosion

of the blood please let me explain

there is no pain

but a sweet and delicious feeling of being alive

but as always the wave is receding

back tpo that place i know so well

till once again the fever and the brain numbing madness

brings me back to that copper coated smell

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