The Pen and The Wind

The expectations of the self and of others, 
A vexation that can ruin the mind,
In anxious fretting we wonder how we will be received,
And how well our illusions will keep,
We fear and wonder the response,
When we present ourselves not as an act,
But merely as ourselves,
When the curtain draws we know not how the audience will receive,
Our being and entirety,
All while our audience faces the same worries and fears,
For we are audience to them. 

A bad little boy who needs to be punished,
Is the tied in the chair, 
Gimp to life and experimented on,
Things that push the boundaries of pleasure and pain,
Things that shouldn’t happen are preformed on him,
Gagged, he can’t tell life it’s going too far,
And all he wanted was just a little spanking,
But life always outdoes itself,
Especially when it comes to sadism and domination. 

What is weather but yin and yang,
Two warring sides of the earth’s mind,
Forever in conflict, yet with no hostility,
The sparring of rivals that keeps things in check,
And helps the Earth flourish and grow. 

Piercing light that is clear thought,
That heats and illuminates, allowing sight,
Allowing insight, observation, 
But is cut short and obscured,
By the torrid wind and churning cloud,
That is emotion, nourishing and pushing life,
Giving growth and life, reason and will to live,
And without both things all would wither and die,
Sun and Storm, rivals and caretakers,
Two sides of a cosmic brain,
Working as components of a body beyond our comprehension. 

Give me a fiddle and put me in orbit,
Round Jupiter, near Ganymede,
Allow myself to learn to play,
And set my mind and spirit free. 

Fly me to the moon,
And I’ll play the song planets near and far,
Meditate in the inky space,
And sing duets with the stars. 

Launch me at escape velocity,
And I’ll play my music evermore,
Free from focusing on the triviality of life,
As I burn up in the galactic core.

For Earth is the realm of the stressful things,
And so tied to the dark and terrible reality,
So fly me into the starry beyond,
And let me play and be free.

Into a dark and lonesome sea,
Lies a note of things past due,
The wind kissed all things but me,
And left a heart and life with rue. 

And I can choke out a sobbing sigh,
As I learn to live once more,
But each day is harder to get by,
Because my mind is a thoughtless whore.

Into my own thoughts do I climb,
And there my every bone does break,
And in all my unholy time,
I only know the bitter wine that forelorn hearts make.

I’ve been cursing my pulled tides,
Wanting things to turn back time,
Just to know what shores I could ride,
And learn why my heart insists on it’s rhyme.

But as I hold on to these hopes, my oceans dry up. 

Sticky sweat in hot air,
With fan blowing in futile despair,
Ruin the body and the brain,
While every pore prays for rain,
Sit and stare in hot stagnant air,
As you lounge in your fluid soaked lair,
Trapped by an inhospitable environment,
Not knowing where your life went. 

And you sit and sigh, close your eyes,
Then wake up to face another day of lies. 

Where oh where is the cigarette smoke,
That blows and billows out your eyes,
That kills and weeds out your needs,
That makes fun of what you comprise.

For you only view life through a crocodile lens,
And that’s why your cup of tea tastes like cock,
Through cat’s paws do you grasp at every need,
With your will and wits as thick as rock. 

Your silly and absurd needs for love,
Makes you a desperate and loveable little thing,
Bare your tits as I stroke my cock,
For talking with you makes my heart sing. 

There once was poet from Manilla,
Who’s sex was far from vanilla,
His particular kink,
Was fucking in ink,
And shooting a wad for each stanza. 

I would gladly submit to Madness,
If Madness would take my heart away,
I would give my mind to some elderitch horror,
To feast on my sanity for all eternity,
And be subjected to every torment imaginable,
To be broken and driven to the point I loose my humanity,
All to be free of my heart. 

For the pains of lovelessness are too much,
Though there is the promise of the rhapsody of love,
For some that is too far away,
And are left to suffer pain unimaginable,
So much so that they would submit,
To dark horror to be spared the agony. 

To not be wanted,
Is to be a puppy in a box, 
FREE TO GOOD HOME,
All others taken, 
Only you remain,
And you stare through hopeful eyes,
At every passerby,
Suffering infinite disappointment,
As none pick you up,
You shiver and curl up as rain falls and night comes,
Hoping for another chance tomorrow,
As the shelter around you rots,
Collapses,
Falls.

The kingdom of heaven is within you,
And you allow others to explore it and you,
What some say is our ultimate salvation,
And others call the source of damnation,
Is our source and cause of gestation,
That object of much masturbation. 

For the vagina itself is divine, 
A source of life and light,
Pussy simply is Jehovah, 
For it brings all into creation,
Source of life it is the beginning,
It is also the ruler of all our lives,
For what governs us more,
Than those trying to reach salvation,
Or those who are it’s keepers safeguarding it,
Pussy ultimately shapes the world around us. 

But it is also our ruination,
For like junkies looking for a fix,
We dedicate too much to finding that light,
That we do not see ourselves cast into darkness,
And tormented by the anxieties about salvation,
We find ourselves among demons of our own making, 
And curse and demonize the god who made us,
Hating it and blaspheming it so,
For our own mistakes while basked and seeking it’s light. 

Bow down and pay tribute to vagina,
For it is creator, it is controller,
Then beginning middle and end of things,
Is it not the kingdom of heaven? 

Oh what a trial is the sinful shaft, 
The expulsion and eruption of the yang,
And the terrible yin stay away,
The cock is the wuji, the nothingness,
That ties all three taos together,
The key to spiritual enlightenment, 
And the ultimate distraction from it. 

So study the cock, for it is a mystery,
And the spirits and sins it holds, 
Can show us the way to learn and love,
But it doesn’t show, yet only betrays, 
Batiste and holds coy with multiple forms,
Rigid as mountains and soft as a breeze,
Hot as flame and source of fluid,
Cock is the aether, the culmination of things,
That leads us to what enlightenment brings,
Learn from the master that is the cock,
For it alone is the 108 trials we must face,
It is the meaning of all existence.

A gentle touch shared by you and I, 
That shines a light in a life of lies,
Is a course that would make me die, 
And yet I’d submit to it every time. 

For what are you but a phoenix’s grace,
To to shine rainbow’s light upon my face,
And in glorious light I crumble and burn
Every sin in the violet flame doth turn. 

I come to you with the desire to die,
And on your wings you make my soul fly,
For I’ll always arise again better than before,
To be worth of your love evermore. 

Scramble and stress,
Fight on through every trial and test,
The desire to live is too strong, 
That you cannot be kept in a cage,
Hold on, hold the line,
And do not allow your spirit to be crushed, 
For when that is gone,
Your humanity is as well. 

The feeling is there, 
That choking anxiety,
About how the nothing that strangles the world,
Will swallow up the minuscule everything,
Leaving nothing, 
You are nothing,
I am nothing, 
Noting matters, 
Not like this,
Not when things are like this,
Not when SHE is with HIM,
And no one worthwhile dares anything with you,
Because you are nothing,
Nothing at all in this world,
This world that forces it’s crap on you,
And then tells you to suck it up,
That that is the way things are,
And you have to will have to hold that bile inside,
Letting it kill you slowly,
Into an unsatisfying end,
Because you can’t just say FUCK. 
Fuck everything,
And just shout it out, and tell them all FUCK THEM.
FUCK HIM and HER,
Just FUCK,

We’re allowed to feel,
We’re allowed to say fuck, 
Because things are shit, and we’ve no since in being silent,
What you call angst, 
Is the dawning of realization,
That your world needs changing.