Pride is a Gun I Point to My Temple

Pride is a gun I point to my temple
Or maybe metal that’s reforged through the ages.
It’s a forgery of desire with the Devil
Who can make it seem like the greatest aegis.
On its true master, it’s turned
And on its servants, it burns.
It makes humility seem like nothingness
By suicide that denies its existence.
It adds a “y” to the end of “craft”
And the Devil makes it lie fat,
Giving God a bad name
To the masses who give and take back.


Our Dirty Bread

A bunch of times, I joined a feast
That was popular among my fellow citizens.
It became something I didn’t want to miss
Because I hated having very few friends.
Their arms were on each other’s shoulders,
Behind their necks as they made a circle.
I joined in, thinking it was more productive
Than being on a pew and facing some pulpit.
The feast I was in was also like that
But it was more fun than those Masses…or so I thought then.
There were stories, and I could relate
For they were of youths who had been delayed.
There were songs, and I could sing
For we were fellows of the Bad Lock King.
There were dances too, and we were wild
For we thought being wilder meant being civilized.
And then there was the food, which was bread we seasoned
By throwing it at our enemies ’til they gained confusion.
When I ate them up, it was very sweet
Even though it was cold, grainy, and steeped.
All that had me coming back
And all that seemed like the best
But now, I feel like I want to vomit
As I try to leave this church of madness.

The Gun of My Face

The gun of my face
Does extrajudicial killings.
In their guns I hate
Are all the evidence I’m needing.
A strange switch for safe
Is what keeps them from firing.
With theirs seem the same,
All these bullets I’m sliding.
One barrel flows a cased
And everybody’s breaking.
Whose shot was it, hey?
All sights are now scrambling.
Gun safety, I fail
So my gun I’m muzzling.
Lessons, I should take,
Though your toting you’re loving.

Internal Politics

My right hand wants to punch,
My left hand wants to cut.
Whichever goes first
In the end, matters not.
I complain either way
For pain just exchanged.
I broadcast my cross
And downplay my loss.
The person across me
Should shut with my call.
I’ll hold some of theirs
And graft a new arm.
It’s quite an advance
But they call it death’s stance.
I plug in a shot
But some parts still rot.
“He, I’ve no need”
Was what I believed.
Yet a cross harrows on
And follows throughout.

A Certain Criminal’s Encounter with Justice

I once owned a bottle
Which could fit coins despite its narrow neck.
I stuffed bills as well,
The fruits of good work.
As I wanted to use them for the good of the world,
I labeled them “For Justice” with red brush-turns.
Things were managed well for a time
But then came a time when my brother went vile.
He snatched the bottle because he wanted money
Which he was likely to spend on some more numbing.
Remembering the label on the bottle as well,
I thought it fitting to slam on his head.
More than expected, my brother’s head hit hard,
First by glass cracked, then on concrete flat.
Blood became a pool, his life tiding out,
Drowning the pieces of paper, metal, and glass around.
I couldn’t read the label I painted on anymore
And I didn’t feel that much better at all.
Green joined the pool,
I had been a fool,
And what wrecked me wasn’t an iron fist
But shards of glass that dug into my skin.

Crack Justice

Once, in a frat initiation,
I was asked to inhale something by the majors.
Said it was a pure part of nature
And its piece form the purest.
“Don’t cook it,” they said,
“The scent would give a bad trip.”
So I did what they did
And sniffed the stuff in.
I knew they were shards
But I wanted my name in the charts.
I let my nose bleed,
My head losing feels.
Later, I woke up
Feeling under a cop.
I hated being caught
So I grabbed some sort of cup.
Swung it down like a judge
But it wasn’t so tough.
My head was driven to the front
And I smelled something burning up.
One of the cops was smoking stuff
And then to death he choked and coughed.
I got a whiff of it too
And then I understood:
It was that stuff I was warned about
And its name was “Justice”…just as it should.

Another Normal Day in the Life of A Human Being

Another normal day.

“I wanna know the truth!”

Welcome, normal day.

“Is this the truth?”

This is a normal day.

“That’s not the truth…”

Today is still a normal day.

“I don’t understand…”

Quite a normal day, alright.

“Ah, I understand!”

This day is pretty normal.

“Well, that’s good to know!”

Very very normal.

“You can’t hide forever, truth!”

Today is a normal day.

A Normal Day in the Life of A Human Being

Today is a normal day.

“You’re a weirdo.”

Yes, today is a normal day.

“You’re awesome!”

Today’s really a normal day.

“You’re a fool.”

Yup, definitely a normal day.

“You’re alive!”

Ah, yes, a normal day indeed.

“You’re gonna die.”

A normal day…a normal day…

“I made a mistake…”

It is another normal day…

“I did something right!”

Yet again, another normal day…

“I don’t wanna be alone!”

Today truly is a normal day.

“I wanna be happy!”

Surprisingly, today is another normal day.

“What a surprise…”

Today is a normal day.

Eternal Oath of Humanity

I have free will,

I am a fool,

I am strange and complex,

And I can learn, too.

I’m a human who can’t live alone,

A citizen of humanity,

Who wants happiness.

I’m different from other humans

But I am not superior or inferior than them.

I may be selfish at times,

I may think that I’m superior or inferior at times,

And I may contribute to the destruction of humanity at times,

But then I remember,

With the help of some awesome humans

That I can be awesome

And that I can choose to be awesome.

We have free will,

We are fools,

We are strange and complicated,

And we can learn, too.

We want happiness

And one person can’t find it alone

So let’s join hands

And do our best

In brightening up our land.