Like A Memory
Like a memory long since passed,
romanticized and remodeled-
it plays again by perfect cast,
and forever - dream is coddled.
Like a scar from broken deal,
for the idle mind does pick it anew-
allowing evil to enter broken seal
as self-destruction doth ensue.
Like a flicker in a torrent,
surrounding silence still-
for the storm shall not warrant,
such a misguided will.
Like a lust for nothingness,
what is not can never be-
but desire is there none-the-less,
and takes from us its fee.
Like a wave upon the rock,
turning jagged edges round-
heard only by those on the dock,
though it hardly makes a sound.
Like a poem without reason,
we read what we want to hear-
deemed guilty of such literary treason,
without author, the art shall disappear.
Blossom or Rend
How fortunate I am to hear
The cliches so spoken oft to me
Dragon's Breathe stale to the tip
Of a tongue so vile, like a whip
Slash and burn all you love
Fit the noose like a glove
Years pass by in the wind
Vortex swirls to self-implode
Scars to come will never mend
Clutch onto your illusory node
Comfort yourself late at night
In the darkness lose the sight
Daybreak comes, tears pass away
Light to heal your worried mind
Any doubts put fast to bay
A slow rot ferments to bind
Root out the vegetation you accept
Find a secret to life best kept
Do not console with the light
Look deep inside your own soul
Blossom in the dead of night
Face your fears, take control
Become a master of your own fate
Know what is, and know what ain't
Watch as I take my only tool
Hand breaks through this mirage
To take what all thought untouchable
Those willing to learn, the entourage
Behold the molding of elements unseen
Flowingly controlled by the marine
So much one cannot command
But further more you fail to attempt
This world is too fake to understand
Don't fight or be consumed with contempt
Responsible only for your own actions
Do not apologize for others' reactions
Only we exist within this guise
Respect all's self-legislation
Human kind are the stars to rise
Within the empty space of isolation
To control another is to demean
The importance of Man into a machine
Label yourself accordingly, single-file
The fading jester too easily beguiles
The weak into a sense of pride
A silly practice that only divides:
Those that work only to survive
Expecting reverance for their ability in saving
Others who work so they may thrive
Pride in their ability to fulfill their craving
One is like an animal hording for a feast
While the other but a savage beast
What could such a life come to show
Honoring work for an empty quid pro quo
Laughing at absurdities is what I prefer
Than listening to those who clearly err
Please forgive my zealotous fervor
The passionate rants of this world's observer
People may come, they certainly will go
Only we can decide how it must end
Do not place yourself on a plateau
For it to be born from the earth you will rend
Rock will shear, your heart will tear
In the finale, left with nothing but despair
Prayer of the Cosmos
infinite world, stretching on and on
things rise and fall...
ever change--ing,
will it start? will it end?
can i find, efficient cause
or final way
why this rather than no--thing?
what's it mean? what's outside?
echo voice to justify
but silence reveals
all evade full explana--tion
do you see? do you know?
waves crash upon the mind
feel the drow--ning
sinking in, deeper still
nothing yet? feeling wet?
place my hand on many things
explain one by one
question re--mains
why are these? why right now?
launch from pad into space
look on planet from afar
for my face
who's this man? who're you?
continue on from moon to moon
still I find no man
he's long gone
where's his smile? where's his warmth?
long at last, I reach the end
to find the end of space
now I'm face-to-face with the beginning
is this it? now I rest?
find myself on other side,
of the world
can't escape this circular map
let me pass, let me pass
so I've seen all there is
understand every thing
but not everything
what is it in the first place?
sail into port, my boat to tether
preparing for weather
since I know,
what will be
walk inside, to order a drink
sit stoicly, whilst tv's flash
in bar stool I sink
beaten horrendously
then it strikes me
necessity, necessity...
'truth taking of facts,' I sing
'of beings and things'
so flow my thoughts
like river bends
blockades broken down
row my boat, down the stream
now I fall to my knees
in tearful plea
In nomine Patris, et Filii,
et Spiritus Sancti
Amen
Cosmos
Starry chaos...
I love your glow.
And if I should travel
then you should know...
Blast from the past--
like a cone of light,
across comet trails,
further than your sight,
leaving stardust tails
across your starry night.
Lone wanderer,
cowboy pioneer,
searching sailor,
I shall have no fear.
Jump from orbit to port,
without much a care.
Stolen cargo to be picked up,
a man to drop dead there,
forgot what it means to be lost,
just another modern day Faust.
Cosmological, technological,
and when I find what I'm lookin' for
I'll see it's eschatological, perhaps alogical,
and then maybe I'll complete this score.
Burning up in the blackness of space,
singing along to my song.
Fools--even in void they race,
headin' no-where too long,
but I ain't in a hurry,
I just float on.
Arcane
olden days, the olden ways, arcane in nature still
desire for the wise path, though he cannot find the will
moons long dead and suns burnt down, long, long ago
in a world of toil and blood where writers romanticize the crow
a man with eccentric ways, asked of older days, a simple question
to what time or place did older, better ways slide into regression
where the dawn of time, the birth of man, held some nobility
before justice, the good, and love were reduced to vile utility
how strange the man, how peculiar his ways, outmoded at their best
from speech, to stance, his food, his drink, he seemed to be depressed
off in a land of ancient dreams where men wore honesty on their sleeves
but once awake a glance reveals a world left empty by wretched thieves
so now he prefers a darkened room with just himself and chair
inside a world only seen through the windows behind a vacant stare
rotting slowly in a haze, unable to let out a shout, a sign, a breath
to show some life, but its too late, a single tear marks his death
Pride
Fiery salamander, gifted of the tongue
Your father hung, take a gander
At why his words, savvy-sensed
Made them wince, those of the herd.
Their self-worth, spoilt before it's time
Heart shrouded in grime, it's hell on earth
Fault of the finite, the incessant vainglory
Death will strip you of worry, the final cold claw.
Ancient Athens, Shining Sparta, & Reputable Rome
They all fall, lets wrap this up, I'm coming home.
Poem of People
"The boredom that now belates my bookish ball deeply bothers this buffoon. Being of which is this burlesque beat. I broach to you a man bolting and bounding back-and-beyond in a state of mental blues. For surely a brood of people as being in this nation's body could bolster enough brains to spend a bit of time to brainstorm on their so-called beliefs. Tis a burden or a blessing? This world is bursting to the brim with beaus and bunglers and neither man nor beast to bite into the banality that is civilization's bunkum and bull.
My babbling must end, so allow me to bequeath you with one final barb to bring this broad biases to the bottom line...no more booby breeding."
-Blake
A Tribute to the Tipton
Here's to Blake Tipton
Who can spit out nine million words when it's something vulgar
Yet can't speak more than a mouthful in a normal conversation.
A man who prides himself on stripping down other's values,
When his own change so frequently as to not exist.
Here's to Blake Tipton
Who tries so hard to master his own passions and emotions
That he forgets how to express them when he wants to.
A man who has learned comfort in independence and solitude,
So he no longer needs friends and relationships.
Here's to Blake Tipton
Who justifies the world with his reason
Only to destroy what little beauty lies within life.
A man so sure about everything
That he knows nothing.
Here's to Blake Tipton...
In A Land of Shelves
The storms reign here for all days to come
Gray spreads making all things numb
Nothing lives in the munchkin town where it snows;
A town forbidden, except for the crow
Walk down the yellow bricks
All but travellers in the River Styx
A scarecrow strewn across the field
A metal guise forever sealed.
Vultures swoop the furred carrion
Welcome to the realm of the barbarian
Poppies float majestically in the sky
An emerald castle in the wry
Simian gargoyles rape the land
Oz has long since been banded
There is no hope here for you and me
The wing of the witch, a veil on all you see
From the tower she watches through a ball,
Of glass and crystal, to see it All.
Pick up that scythe, lets start to hack.
So many wrongs, we've all lost track.
Virtue, honor, glory, talent, and skill,
Things all used with the Good Will.
Now gone, for they lived for themselves
In a single blow they're put on the shelves.
The Dock
I'm sitting on the dock again
Bullfrogs and crickets talking
I can see the end of the world
And everything above
The stars beyond
Weeping willows say to the left
The breeze passes through me
And brilliant ash hovers
Avoiding the water below
The dark waters
That hold part of my being
My feet rest on these old boards
Ivy grows over the palm trees to my sides
Pulling them to the ground
The fish splash water under me
As the ash hits the water they strike
Believing food is there for them
This hoody reeks of smoke
Built from many a night
Including tonight
Those sad and lonely nights
Where I forged myself
Full of anger and hatred
Cynical of the world around me
Though I loved where I was
Contempt for being content
My home
Where I learned to be
Rather than inside
Doing homework
For the next day
I love my parents
And appreciate all they've done
However.
As a person,
I raised myself
I am who I am
For my own thought processes
Hours of contemplation
For solutions
Might be why we clash so often
But now when I visit
I don't step foot on it
For fear of a trap
Not wanting to release me
Do I need it anymore?
Am I fearful of a final lesson?
Why am I personifying a dock?
My Design
I don’t claim to be your morality
I just want to live by the sea
Don’t give me back what I’ve said,
All that matters is what’s here and ahead
I don’t claim to be the one,
Nor know what I’m supposed to do.
I’m not here to cry and run,
I’m just a man looking for you.
So tired of games and preparation,
For things I won’t bring up in meditation.
I’m blind and ignorant but willing to learn,
If I could only find friends with the same concern.
I’d be happy as a ditch digger or clerk
With nothing to my name but me.
Sleeping on a floor can’t take my smirk
Because my spirit is always free.
I’d never tell anyone, but I can read your mind.
And am getting good at reading mine.
Somehow you are the key so I can find
How I work: my thoughts, feelings, my design.
My Words are like a...
[Insert favorite hyphe song, sing along now]
My mind's so confused like a nutjob ward,
pieces layin' about like a scrabble board.
Every question is yes and no, this and that -
always wanting more like a greedy little rat.
I mix all the ideas up like a master chef,
but all my concoctions are tone deaf.
No rhyme nor reason, aesthetics take over,
I want parts and a whole like an Irish clover.
I'm organizing everything like a coin sorter,
Taking brick and mortar,
reconstructing the world,
But my mind becomes twirled, swirled, unfurled.
It's a healthy challenge and makes me happy,
like an old 50's show, it's always sappy.
The sweet flavor from the tears of a tree I mean,
keeps me awake and aware like life's caffeine.
So many assumptions, presumptions, what to do?
Stuck with intuitions, useless missions, why pursue?
I'm wrapped in gold, my soul is sold.
And it'll only get worse as I grow old.
A mercenary whose job is necessary,
a canary to carry the word to bury the contrary.
My dissatisfaction is my life's joy
like a sadomasochist playing with its toy.
My finesse is to caress those in distress,
but alas I digress, I'm not here to impress.
I profess I've had little success,
but change for it's own sake can be regress
like an Obama speech that preaches progress.
Ow, I'm mean, I'm mean, sorry my Queen.
But people eat it up like fine cuisine,
when I submerge from such ideas like a submarine.
In that way I stay clean and pristine,
avoid the smoke screen, stay keen, and find the unseen.
Am I a Reflection?
what man do I appear to be?
I see myself
from outisde
memories in 3rd person
my memories always are
as if watching movie
am I the escapist
eating apple and drinking tea
headphones on
wrapped in own world
pondering silently
or writing furiously
blank expression
the cold stare
never making eye contact
some strange man
off in his own world
ignorant others exist
and even if he did know
cared for others things still
am I the thief
racoon eyed bandit
long nights
longer mornings
worried of the world,
stealing my time
a yawn with apathetic brow
wandering eyes
nonchalant tone
and a knack for the morbid
am I the jester
charismatic and energetic
breaking ice with words
twinkle in the eye
assuming all have the same confidence
so some laugh, others hurt
but jokes continue
like jack-n-the-box
pop out everytime
and always on cue
am I the guardian
eyes ablaze
stentorian roar
veins pumping
all the rage and fury
to defend some innocent
is it even just,
how do I know innocence
perhaps I am the weak,
idiot lackey
taken advantage of for protection
am I a reflection
where my origin
origin of idea
personality, &c.
perhaps some bare thing,
to which other things,
may express themselves
am I my own mystery person?
or is this all, silly game
I create someone
other than self
when I try to look outside-in
in this manner
in trying to reflect,
I create mirror
instead of seeing thing at start
Like a memory long since passed,
romanticized and remodeled-
it plays again by perfect cast,
and forever - dream is coddled.
Like a scar from broken deal,
for the idle mind does pick it anew-
allowing evil to enter broken seal
as self-destruction doth ensue.
Like a flicker in a torrent,
surrounding silence still-
for the storm shall not warrant,
such a misguided will.
Like a lust for nothingness,
what is not can never be-
but desire is there none-the-less,
and takes from us its fee.
Like a wave upon the rock,
turning jagged edges round-
heard only by those on the dock,
though it hardly makes a sound.
Like a poem without reason,
we read what we want to hear-
deemed guilty of such literary treason,
without author, the art shall disappear.
Blossom or Rend
How fortunate I am to hear
The cliches so spoken oft to me
Dragon's Breathe stale to the tip
Of a tongue so vile, like a whip
Slash and burn all you love
Fit the noose like a glove
Years pass by in the wind
Vortex swirls to self-implode
Scars to come will never mend
Clutch onto your illusory node
Comfort yourself late at night
In the darkness lose the sight
Daybreak comes, tears pass away
Light to heal your worried mind
Any doubts put fast to bay
A slow rot ferments to bind
Root out the vegetation you accept
Find a secret to life best kept
Do not console with the light
Look deep inside your own soul
Blossom in the dead of night
Face your fears, take control
Become a master of your own fate
Know what is, and know what ain't
Watch as I take my only tool
Hand breaks through this mirage
To take what all thought untouchable
Those willing to learn, the entourage
Behold the molding of elements unseen
Flowingly controlled by the marine
So much one cannot command
But further more you fail to attempt
This world is too fake to understand
Don't fight or be consumed with contempt
Responsible only for your own actions
Do not apologize for others' reactions
Only we exist within this guise
Respect all's self-legislation
Human kind are the stars to rise
Within the empty space of isolation
To control another is to demean
The importance of Man into a machine
Label yourself accordingly, single-file
The fading jester too easily beguiles
The weak into a sense of pride
A silly practice that only divides:
Those that work only to survive
Expecting reverance for their ability in saving
Others who work so they may thrive
Pride in their ability to fulfill their craving
One is like an animal hording for a feast
While the other but a savage beast
What could such a life come to show
Honoring work for an empty quid pro quo
Laughing at absurdities is what I prefer
Than listening to those who clearly err
Please forgive my zealotous fervor
The passionate rants of this world's observer
People may come, they certainly will go
Only we can decide how it must end
Do not place yourself on a plateau
For it to be born from the earth you will rend
Rock will shear, your heart will tear
In the finale, left with nothing but despair
Prayer of the Cosmos
infinite world, stretching on and on
things rise and fall...
ever change--ing,
will it start? will it end?
can i find, efficient cause
or final way
why this rather than no--thing?
what's it mean? what's outside?
echo voice to justify
but silence reveals
all evade full explana--tion
do you see? do you know?
waves crash upon the mind
feel the drow--ning
sinking in, deeper still
nothing yet? feeling wet?
place my hand on many things
explain one by one
question re--mains
why are these? why right now?
launch from pad into space
look on planet from afar
for my face
who's this man? who're you?
continue on from moon to moon
still I find no man
he's long gone
where's his smile? where's his warmth?
long at last, I reach the end
to find the end of space
now I'm face-to-face with the beginning
is this it? now I rest?
find myself on other side,
of the world
can't escape this circular map
let me pass, let me pass
so I've seen all there is
understand every thing
but not everything
what is it in the first place?
sail into port, my boat to tether
preparing for weather
since I know,
what will be
walk inside, to order a drink
sit stoicly, whilst tv's flash
in bar stool I sink
beaten horrendously
then it strikes me
necessity, necessity...
'truth taking of facts,' I sing
'of beings and things'
so flow my thoughts
like river bends
blockades broken down
row my boat, down the stream
now I fall to my knees
in tearful plea
In nomine Patris, et Filii,
et Spiritus Sancti
Amen
Cosmos
Starry chaos...
I love your glow.
And if I should travel
then you should know...
Blast from the past--
like a cone of light,
across comet trails,
further than your sight,
leaving stardust tails
across your starry night.
Lone wanderer,
cowboy pioneer,
searching sailor,
I shall have no fear.
Jump from orbit to port,
without much a care.
Stolen cargo to be picked up,
a man to drop dead there,
forgot what it means to be lost,
just another modern day Faust.
Cosmological, technological,
and when I find what I'm lookin' for
I'll see it's eschatological, perhaps alogical,
and then maybe I'll complete this score.
Burning up in the blackness of space,
singing along to my song.
Fools--even in void they race,
headin' no-where too long,
but I ain't in a hurry,
I just float on.
Arcane
olden days, the olden ways, arcane in nature still
desire for the wise path, though he cannot find the will
moons long dead and suns burnt down, long, long ago
in a world of toil and blood where writers romanticize the crow
a man with eccentric ways, asked of older days, a simple question
to what time or place did older, better ways slide into regression
where the dawn of time, the birth of man, held some nobility
before justice, the good, and love were reduced to vile utility
how strange the man, how peculiar his ways, outmoded at their best
from speech, to stance, his food, his drink, he seemed to be depressed
off in a land of ancient dreams where men wore honesty on their sleeves
but once awake a glance reveals a world left empty by wretched thieves
so now he prefers a darkened room with just himself and chair
inside a world only seen through the windows behind a vacant stare
rotting slowly in a haze, unable to let out a shout, a sign, a breath
to show some life, but its too late, a single tear marks his death
Pride
Fiery salamander, gifted of the tongue
Your father hung, take a gander
At why his words, savvy-sensed
Made them wince, those of the herd.
Their self-worth, spoilt before it's time
Heart shrouded in grime, it's hell on earth
Fault of the finite, the incessant vainglory
Death will strip you of worry, the final cold claw.
Ancient Athens, Shining Sparta, & Reputable Rome
They all fall, lets wrap this up, I'm coming home.
Poem of People
"The boredom that now belates my bookish ball deeply bothers this buffoon. Being of which is this burlesque beat. I broach to you a man bolting and bounding back-and-beyond in a state of mental blues. For surely a brood of people as being in this nation's body could bolster enough brains to spend a bit of time to brainstorm on their so-called beliefs. Tis a burden or a blessing? This world is bursting to the brim with beaus and bunglers and neither man nor beast to bite into the banality that is civilization's bunkum and bull.
My babbling must end, so allow me to bequeath you with one final barb to bring this broad biases to the bottom line...no more booby breeding."
-Blake
A Tribute to the Tipton
Here's to Blake Tipton
Who can spit out nine million words when it's something vulgar
Yet can't speak more than a mouthful in a normal conversation.
A man who prides himself on stripping down other's values,
When his own change so frequently as to not exist.
Here's to Blake Tipton
Who tries so hard to master his own passions and emotions
That he forgets how to express them when he wants to.
A man who has learned comfort in independence and solitude,
So he no longer needs friends and relationships.
Here's to Blake Tipton
Who justifies the world with his reason
Only to destroy what little beauty lies within life.
A man so sure about everything
That he knows nothing.
Here's to Blake Tipton...
In A Land of Shelves
The storms reign here for all days to come
Gray spreads making all things numb
Nothing lives in the munchkin town where it snows;
A town forbidden, except for the crow
Walk down the yellow bricks
All but travellers in the River Styx
A scarecrow strewn across the field
A metal guise forever sealed.
Vultures swoop the furred carrion
Welcome to the realm of the barbarian
Poppies float majestically in the sky
An emerald castle in the wry
Simian gargoyles rape the land
Oz has long since been banded
There is no hope here for you and me
The wing of the witch, a veil on all you see
From the tower she watches through a ball,
Of glass and crystal, to see it All.
Pick up that scythe, lets start to hack.
So many wrongs, we've all lost track.
Virtue, honor, glory, talent, and skill,
Things all used with the Good Will.
Now gone, for they lived for themselves
In a single blow they're put on the shelves.
The Dock
I'm sitting on the dock again
Bullfrogs and crickets talking
I can see the end of the world
And everything above
The stars beyond
Weeping willows say to the left
The breeze passes through me
And brilliant ash hovers
Avoiding the water below
The dark waters
That hold part of my being
My feet rest on these old boards
Ivy grows over the palm trees to my sides
Pulling them to the ground
The fish splash water under me
As the ash hits the water they strike
Believing food is there for them
This hoody reeks of smoke
Built from many a night
Including tonight
Those sad and lonely nights
Where I forged myself
Full of anger and hatred
Cynical of the world around me
Though I loved where I was
Contempt for being content
My home
Where I learned to be
Rather than inside
Doing homework
For the next day
I love my parents
And appreciate all they've done
However.
As a person,
I raised myself
I am who I am
For my own thought processes
Hours of contemplation
For solutions
Might be why we clash so often
But now when I visit
I don't step foot on it
For fear of a trap
Not wanting to release me
Do I need it anymore?
Am I fearful of a final lesson?
Why am I personifying a dock?
My Design
I don’t claim to be your morality
I just want to live by the sea
Don’t give me back what I’ve said,
All that matters is what’s here and ahead
I don’t claim to be the one,
Nor know what I’m supposed to do.
I’m not here to cry and run,
I’m just a man looking for you.
So tired of games and preparation,
For things I won’t bring up in meditation.
I’m blind and ignorant but willing to learn,
If I could only find friends with the same concern.
I’d be happy as a ditch digger or clerk
With nothing to my name but me.
Sleeping on a floor can’t take my smirk
Because my spirit is always free.
I’d never tell anyone, but I can read your mind.
And am getting good at reading mine.
Somehow you are the key so I can find
How I work: my thoughts, feelings, my design.
My Words are like a...
[Insert favorite hyphe song, sing along now]
My mind's so confused like a nutjob ward,
pieces layin' about like a scrabble board.
Every question is yes and no, this and that -
always wanting more like a greedy little rat.
I mix all the ideas up like a master chef,
but all my concoctions are tone deaf.
No rhyme nor reason, aesthetics take over,
I want parts and a whole like an Irish clover.
I'm organizing everything like a coin sorter,
Taking brick and mortar,
reconstructing the world,
But my mind becomes twirled, swirled, unfurled.
It's a healthy challenge and makes me happy,
like an old 50's show, it's always sappy.
The sweet flavor from the tears of a tree I mean,
keeps me awake and aware like life's caffeine.
So many assumptions, presumptions, what to do?
Stuck with intuitions, useless missions, why pursue?
I'm wrapped in gold, my soul is sold.
And it'll only get worse as I grow old.
A mercenary whose job is necessary,
a canary to carry the word to bury the contrary.
My dissatisfaction is my life's joy
like a sadomasochist playing with its toy.
My finesse is to caress those in distress,
but alas I digress, I'm not here to impress.
I profess I've had little success,
but change for it's own sake can be regress
like an Obama speech that preaches progress.
Ow, I'm mean, I'm mean, sorry my Queen.
But people eat it up like fine cuisine,
when I submerge from such ideas like a submarine.
In that way I stay clean and pristine,
avoid the smoke screen, stay keen, and find the unseen.
Am I a Reflection?
what man do I appear to be?
I see myself
from outisde
memories in 3rd person
my memories always are
as if watching movie
am I the escapist
eating apple and drinking tea
headphones on
wrapped in own world
pondering silently
or writing furiously
blank expression
the cold stare
never making eye contact
some strange man
off in his own world
ignorant others exist
and even if he did know
cared for others things still
am I the thief
racoon eyed bandit
long nights
longer mornings
worried of the world,
stealing my time
a yawn with apathetic brow
wandering eyes
nonchalant tone
and a knack for the morbid
am I the jester
charismatic and energetic
breaking ice with words
twinkle in the eye
assuming all have the same confidence
so some laugh, others hurt
but jokes continue
like jack-n-the-box
pop out everytime
and always on cue
am I the guardian
eyes ablaze
stentorian roar
veins pumping
all the rage and fury
to defend some innocent
is it even just,
how do I know innocence
perhaps I am the weak,
idiot lackey
taken advantage of for protection
am I a reflection
where my origin
origin of idea
personality, &c.
perhaps some bare thing,
to which other things,
may express themselves
am I my own mystery person?
or is this all, silly game
I create someone
other than self
when I try to look outside-in
in this manner
in trying to reflect,
I create mirror
instead of seeing thing at start
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