Destination Direction

Blood has been drawn, vehement oaths have now been sworn
Sin in desire has been born, written destinies are now forlorn
Light the path of future’s course, time goes on as is a curse
Life’s a drag and it gets worse, dead-straight life-force in a hearse

I am driven by the gears of my mind in reverse-motion reflection
Broken speed of my train-of-thought in automation rejection
Along the freeway of restricting limits that control my situation
As I park in the driveway of mentality in its amalgamation

I find it so amazing how I am still allowed to live this life
Yet I feel that many more have been deserving to be alive
But I do not want to be a part of this suicidal strife
When I am sure that positive influence truly is rife

And as I am a poet, words govern which way my thought goes
The destination direction as I depart from my sullen woes

Society Segregation

I am a representative of society. Filling in from all social classes and financial securities. Emulating a codex of our individual abilities. Realities, fantasies and physical capabilities. The stigma of enigma flows like a captivating river. Vehemence calling to come hither as the petals of a rose wither into winter. Yet as I roam the realm of the status quo I am enlightened by my discoveries. I see the discrimination and trepidation of the adolescent mind-set. Prejudices are imprinted preconceptions.

Passive Power

Load, aim and fire.
Shoot out of the barrel that confined you.
Lead you are. Leader you will be.
Asphyxiate my being to immense pressure.
Explode out whilst you implode in.
Flying out of the barrel of violence that I was so long a part of.
Flip the magazine.
See the image of perfection tattered on its firing range.
Ruffle the whiskers of the tame lion that you will soon emulate.
Possessing the potential to leave an impact.
A wound on the warrior of war.
Yet you roll over in a solid state.
Afraid to stretch the frequency of your voice into a roar.
Passive are you not? Why then both?
Rise. You must to load, aim and fire.
Shoot out of the barrel.
I am your gun and you are the lead bullet.


Come suck the life out of me, my being and soul set free.
Let me live within a secular realm, the armour of distress has me at its helm.
No spirit within the teary pits of my eyes, void of all reaction and truth as its lies.
Educated segregated and the fools celebrated.
Pleased with being teased and my pleas propagated.
Lying on a bed of roses and stains of blood.
Judgement Day is looming with its fiery flood.
Get some enigma to a danger intrigue,
Tales of my villainy within my fatigue.

Paralysed by my own eerie silence, morally illegal life driving has no license.
My inner sins I need to get some penance, my pity party now has a high attendance.
Taken and reciprocated every judgement, of me and now I appeal for God’s atonement.
For my repentance this is my moment, mental parliament’s so fly it is an owl government
Smart puns are in colloquial terms called punch lines.
Because it is lyrical mutilation with battle rhymes.
Wearing big watches because I have risked the big time.
Straightening shows at narrow mindsets that are called crooked crimes.
Get some stigma for conforming’s intrigue,
Stories of my wicked fatigue.