Judging Angels
/Ancient the sting of fiends with dried wings
These being's death sound like rings
Ain't it fresh when breaths sing?
Faded stress from great things
Slayed fits suited for….
Read MoreWant Rhymes
/Blade in hand
Under my command
A madman, a badman, a mad plan
Still nerves curve cuss words
Fuck truth
Hurts to know…
Read MoreAll Systems Fail
/We're mindless
Adoring violence
Worship crimes in silence
We hide since
We're frightened
Waiting for lightning
To strike while hiding
Seemed right then
We try to be better
By sending our selves motivational letters…
Direction
/A short poem expressing thoughts on life and making choices.
———
Question marks in the air
Answers aren't abundant
Uncertainty is persistent
Aimless wander is built into the system
Aimless wonder is built into the system
Its not different destinations
Its different paths to the same destination
Not knowing where we step
A warn dirt roads
Paved streets
Or a jungle and a machete
Question marks in the air
Read MoreStrategizing
/Granulated excitement
Moving forward is frightening
Yet, new things are enticing
Knight Ls towards striking
Right turns remain fighting
Lightning's slightest crimes seem
Faded by hope of time being=…
Haunted
/Dry ink hangs over the page dangling frozen at the tip of a pen. The paper yellows with age. Blank with doubt and uninspired hopelessness. Waiting. Just waiting for the idle hand to sway with originality and scribble with aimless joy, but it all remains static and still.
Although, the air feels desperate the clock is patient as its afternoon smile shifts to a late night frown.
Floorboards creak and thump at pacing boots like a secret killer quietly stalking prey in a cabin. This cabin is nowhere near as eventful.
Endlessly searching for direction, the haunting apparition hovers over the imaginary world with tragic sorrow filled eyes. Hollow and tearfully fixed on the emptiness.
Bloodless pale, regretful and depressive, hatred consume the spirit and ignites strong sentiment. Like an ever growing void of inescapable speed and magnitude. The fear of being incomplete and fragmented crippled and killed the host, but nature demands invention..
Read MoreGod's Storm
/Stuck fightin’ in rough lightin’
Fuck tryin’, I’m done hidin’
All that’s left is thinkin’ quick, no subsidin’
Move like lightnin’ while strikin’
I’m above but grounded
Be frightened
My roll and rumble are well rounded
Crumble the walls surroundin’
I make the black clouds mad loud and highlight the background brightly
Cold cause I don’t stop the rain’s gain and pace reigns
Gotta be sick when I spit quick phlegm talkin’ shit bricks at glass houses…
Read MoreGod Is Lost
/Although I’ve never dealt with writers block, I do occasionally feel uninterested in what I create or creating in general. Creators depression if you will. When each word to land on the page feels empty and foreign. As if it fails to convey the intended message or emotion. Like trying to read a page through fog. Clarity is missing.
It’s times like these where thoughts feel hazy. When it’s least obvious what’s missing from the work is when it’s the most frustrating. The satisfaction of finding a hundred problems each sentence comes with the knowledge that you can jump in and fix it all. This is more like trying to…
Read MoreConflicting Thoughts
/Close to the edge
Dragged to battle with reflections
Cattle of thought
Tryin’ to rattle the pot
Turn the heat up, they’re not
Just shadows gettin’ nearer
I’m thinkin’ clearer
Glass sight
It’s been years
Their vision blurs up, they’re sinkin’
Turns up still drinkin’
So high they get stuck
In the middle of blinks
With a knives at a gun fight, they might die
That’s alright, just try to get by
Fire words thinkin’ they’ll hurt
Churn my stomach
Ahh, the burn
They never learn
Squirmy, whiny…
Keeping
/Perfect tan hands glide over the oak colored skin inked with numbers
Dangerous when temptation leads to over-calculation
Each moment matters more than the last with the dance going in circles
Mind games name the bad times with precision
Twisted and malicious, follows with reminders of glory and joy
Just to drag it all away with more darkness from the past
Please Leave, Retched Watch
Throwing Stones
/Some of us struggle more than others in facing our demons.
Jack tells of how he faces his own.
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The Glass is foggy. House is half full. Can’t type ‘cause I’m a little groggy. Need it at night so I drool. Not sure whether lying or right. Caught in the pipe. Dream above the clouds. Asleep to escape the night. Bare and weak I see myself. Bleak, a life, hell, shrieks. Got health. Quite wealthy. Still can’t stand my fucking self
So I bury myself, before I die and just wait out the time. Fade out the lines
Color the pages. No one else can see. But, it is what it is. So it’ll be
Rainbows sparked in flames hope to erase the shame. No. They change only the same flow
”Don’t fool yourself, foolish self. This hell is your prison cell.
Intoxicated, you ain’t well
This isn’t what you wanted is it?
You brought it. Miss it? Listen
You had it. Dissed it. Dip-ship
Put this outfit on. Cluck like a chicken ‘till you get whats going on
Take these feathers if they’re…
Slow Sure
/It’s important to do the things that give your life purpose.
The rest should take second place importance.
Jack does just that in this poem as he explains why he’s not rapping, yet.
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Willing to spit
But saliva ain’t worth shit
Still alive, I won’t stand, sit
Wasted time get a man hit
Rep Demi, sitting back
Let me crate those thoughts
For the war gods
The pen, a whore
There’s no note not written for
Except of course
One’s behind locked doors
But set a course using force
Upset the order
Rewrite the border
Word hoarder
Obsessed with disordered
Detested ‘cause I murder words
No regrets
Yes, that’s what you heard
Walkin' the Walk
/Fight to overcome and let no one hold you back.
A lesson Jack has learned the hard way over the years.
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I won’t be chained to the tame
Too animal to restrain
Cannibal plottin’ on the next game
Bad like Hannibal
Tiny little bit insane
Just enough to take risks and go nuts
Givin’ no fucks
Givin’ no hugs
Breakin’ road blocks
Get the fuck out my way
If the road’s wrong repave it
Rename it, treat it like it’s one way and take it
And I’m gettin’ hungry
The plate looks clear
As I get more desperate the fear disappears
Yet, takin’ too long to make waves
But earthquakes make great shakes
Don’t Mistake it
All the flavors when heated up taste great
Don’t they?
If it needs to be broken I’m fuckin’ breakin’ it
I’m not jokin’ you 2s are chokin’, fakin’ it
Like…
Hiding Time
/Self-reflective, Jack discusses his fears and motivations for being creative. Leaving a mark.
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I wear a mask to go hard
And I take the lie pretty far
Fake like I’m born with these scars
I don’t bruise, I’m from mars
Way high up in the stars
With red eyes locked like darts
Just ’cause I’m smarter when I gab
That’s why I overstand to rap and spit
Can barely stand hands frosty grip
Around my throat
The grip won’t slip
Hope I don’t choke
I’m rolling throwing blame at frozen shame
Stone cells, prison brain
Shattered the glass house
The crash was mad loud
I’m assed out
No second chance will pass down
Claim sober to be left alone
It’s over
Getting closer for…
Blind Allegiance
/Jack updates us on his current political standing.
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The long line grows. Followers chosen by God herself. To enslave the children. To fight the dark forces. Hostages for a better world. When white robed phantoms spread their word from beyond the grave.
And they begin. “Where is my…” with air quotes, “Money?”
Revive the fallen. Destroying and eradicating the dark forces. Blue suited shiny badges of honor with guns pressed against the backs of the perceived enemy. A strike by the rebellion unable to regain the dwindled numbers of the “home team” reaching to even the odds by reducing the “away.”
Shackles and iron bars for the shades not aligned with the morally gray stars on the flag. Red bloods of white skin on the blue ball owned by green presidents.
Trumpets play as the blue birds chirp overhead. The distraction for those chewing gum silent masturbating to gun violence.
Oh dear, how the toppling towers teeter. No use crying over spilled oil. The dividers keep the…
Read MorePlanning for Later
/After finishing his 365 Project Jack is eager to see what comes next for him.
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Been restless for days. Fastened safe behind the door of the bunker. Clicking and ticking the word keys. Idea stacking. Format building. Adding shape and structure. Fleshing out the details of the future for the future. Doing it all drained from the won race.
Constructing new tools to face unmet targets. Swords for battle and sticks for stability.
Victory battles don’t predict ended wars. Ended wars still have the aftermath. Recovery is gradual behind the worn inkless pen. Winners decide the history.
A war of infinite battles has no finish. Each finale is but a stepping stone to the next risk.
It was all just chapter 1.
Desperate Thinking
/Many of the major struggles we deal with as adults are internal. And they surround the perpetual identity crisis the “adult experience” turns out to be. Some of our worst demons reveal themselves to be a major part of our identity.
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In the back of my mind the grind stays in line
Shows up on time
Thick sludge slime drips off ass it goes by
Slow drive
No life, it chases faceless cries
Whines stalking hated ties through crooked lies
It takes or it dries
Created illusions for desperate tries
Feeling asleep still hoping to die
Never real, but always alive
Never bad, but always a crime
Chiming the rhymes of evil
Slides off the tongue perceiving
Fires burn the homes
Screeching iron melting down
Reaching into hollow grounds
Spinning, churning, twisting round
Molten lava leaking out
The creaking shack is splintered, brown
No sneaking in without a sound
The bleak still ring it sings resound
Trapped inside with screams and shouts
Rotted corpses stand about
Mules and horses on propaganda routs
Burnt alive behind the eyes
To all the rest I stand here fine
The Warm Center
/Read MoreBuried Beneath It
Boiling Anger and Fury
Rage Melts in the Core
Faded Patterns
/It’s hard to deal with change. But it’s hard to deal with change only because we believe it’s hard to deal with change. Change is impossible..
---------------------------------------------------
Troubled by freedom. The thought of it.
The cage opens and the creature, too scared to leave, quivers at the door.
Long within the bar box. The concept of walking the grass is nauseating.
Overwhelming to not know the other side of the hill.
Perhaps a storm lives there.
Although no phobia for water, there is fear of getting wet.
Never once does it occur to raise the half empty glass to the crying sky.
One of the paintings is crooked and I can’t stop looking.
Jekyll in the lab, but hide when there’s no distraction.
Rhythm was the meditation.
Songs no longer play with open eyes.
Abandoning systems to rise above.
The realization, that which was left was but a fraction of the picture.
Safe outside the cage. Just a bigger box out there.
Read More