Sea of Sand

fists of theives I am the anti love
everything inside me is a barrier
tides roll in and out - an emotional storm
wishing to be left out to sea to roam again
there the day has sprung swift as the sharpest blade
a paradigm a whistle
a life lived less ordinary

tired from the game it keeps me at a better cast than they
i am better at this mind slaughter
they think they know me but oh what a blunder
so sick of shining bright cities pretenders and vegetarian librals
so tired of opinions that mean meeker things
the will of the people is weakest when the sun comes up

sick of the zombies that feed away at braincells bombarded by a strictly
ignorant society of men and girls
nothing and noone is here in the fire of mens largest wars
nothing and no one cares for me
nor do i wish it so

so i have lost you as a friend why? because i'm better and smarter than you are a man?
a dark thing will whisper in your ear at night
your anger at me for being her friend
your tireless whorship of things best left unsaid
I am the anti lover
the anti promise

i spend my days in the new mans bed
five long years we whisper of ourselves and no one man woman understands us
true to ourselves
devils children
devils mimes

playing at things you wish you could understand
i am a mad hattress dangling my black widow in your crooked smiling face
i'm happy to see those that are periless are getting what goods karma has set out for them
"you do it to yourself you do you really do.." radiohead blares
radiohead failed
radiohead failed

a wish for a song better than the political garbage of what is spilled like waste
into a waste land of destruction the crisis of mans minds deter the deformaty that is our sons
lick the wounds of things best undone and stay forth
stay to the path stray from the past
a giver a taker a killer maker
kinder things will come our way to the sons of anarchy
sons of lighter from darker dreams we do dream
of a life less sorrowful less pitiful and pathetic
lotteries are not won
deserts are not moistened by the kisses of wealth
but by blessings of rain


sick of the complaining
sick of the crimes
sick of men whining
tired of girls weeping
children with no hearts or souls
breed to imbreeding of souless idiocracy
eating and feeding the youth the horrid tales of pain
it is all they know now mother

Grains of sand pile in the desert high
on top of other painful hot fire
nothing to look forward to
tired of stupid
sick of the constant interuption
tired of living day to day to pay day

while they complain the wealth is lost on wealth
they forget with out wealth there is no food
no crops no man to maketh these things ring true

tired of selfishness
tis a disease among my clan
i try to love them all
i fail to see them clearly
without the face of their souls
i long for someone to stop in their tracks and say..

how are you?
for a change
a change
a change that is all they speak of
change is in mans hearts when he wishes it to be
desert of waist
a sea of idiocracy
a sea of sand..


a poem about my utter distaste for people that are not good to others - people i used to know- people i no longer know and the state of the world

Mean People was my take on how some celebrities now make a living out of being nasty toward others.

I really like this poem as it is so true of some out there. They know who they are and should look in a mirror every so often.

I am so totally sick of people this week. It really reflected in the poem.

I kinda want to say "I HEAR YOU AND I DON'T CARE!!!!"

I GET TIRED of the social networking stuff where people talk non stop all day long.. an update every half hour..i get on here when a break is allowed. They want you to know they took a restroom break.