Saturday, August 23, 2014

They Dont Want My Kind Here

I went walking in the desert
Playing with the stars
The sand between my naked feet
Try'na find my soul

I found a town
The people peered through the windows
They Hid in fear
As anew stranger roamed around here

I say "They dont want kind here"
They see my face and they run with fear
Because I gotta scar and its pretty bad
Because i was friends with a man who sold the poison

They dont want my kind here
Thats my fear through every town that i go through
Its obvious I've got my tracks littering the dirt
They say I'm no good they say I'm wasting my time.

I was friends with the man who sold poison
My favorite pet was the snake in the grass
My sisters were witches who kept my heart in a glass
I was a hot mess, still am, looking a place to land

Thursday, February 27, 2014

Burn This House Down

Burn the house down 
Right to the ground 
Dance on the ashes 
And if the memories dont bleed out 
You will 

Hear! The starving cries 
Of the wild kids outside 
The howling wind 
Is their lullabies 

Dance in the ashes of your lies 
Play around with the embers 
Of your stolen goodbyes 
Sit there in this burning house! 

Burn burn burn the house down. 
Let the sirens ring through the town 
Feel the sins releasing 
To the starving youth who's singin! 

La da di da. Set us free. La la la la set me free 

Break out and relax your soul 
Dont you know we all have our stories to tell 
We all have the versions we told 
Cuz the kids have their souls to sell 

So Burn this house down 
To the ground 
Find a tree to watch it 
Safe and sound 

Let the heat ripple through your skin
Burn your pasts 
But don't forget your sins 
Their Like burns that lasts 

Run, run away from the burning house 
Run, just because its too hot to face 
Be, be alone stay there 
Wait for the rain so you leave a trace 

We all want to forget our burning house, house, house 
We all sing like the wild kids 
Set, set me free. I am not what I did. I am what ill be. 

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Last Time

It's almost four.
jeez, last time I checked it was only midnight
The sky wasn't so grape popsicle purple
More like a sleepy blue.

Plus, at midnight the shadows against the sky
Well, they didn't look so angry
The trees didn't stand out so much
And I didn't feel so alone

Last time I checked I was still young
I was young enough to make mistakes
I was still young enough to not think about tomorrow
I still had wings

Last time I checked... things were fine
I suppose they still were
But night time has never been so hard
Maybe my mind has nothing more to worry about, than things I cant change

Last time I felt like this
I dreaded the sun coming up
I didn't want a new day
But tonight I feel like tomorrow will be okay

Last time I was alone I didn't have you
You're never as mad at me as I think you are
And you're not ignoring me
So much as being tired

Last time I was alone
I couldn't see all the good you've shown me
I didn't just smile at the thought of anyone
I didn't hope for a new day to see anyone

Last time I wanted endless night
I was alone
I didn't have you
I didn't feel
I am okay

Last time I checked... I couldn't say that.

Night Time

My curtains are open.
My door is shut.
My mind is open and so are my eyes.

I can think of every single moment
Every single path my life can go down
My mind seems to want to wonder down the darkest path
When I fall asleep, I still think

I think about all the things I've never seen
I wonder if I ever will
I worry about all the words I've said
I wonder if I have yet to mend them

No one wants to talk to me
So I wonder what I did wrong
No one wants to hear about it so I try to fix it on my own
I don't like nighttime because I'm all alone

I'm all alone
I wonder if it'll always be this way
I make a joke about being alone
But I fear I will lose everyone

I'm sure this is just a phase.
Because life is good right now
My mind has nothing more to worry about
Besides my past and future

My past of moments I cannot change now
My future of things I will be able to change
It wont be like this for long.
Every night time comes with a day.

Friday, January 31, 2014

Black Hearted Man

She waits at the bus stop for your ride
 But do you ever come
She's spent her whole life runnin
Half past midnight Shes soaking from the rain
Played with another girls heart again

She's a gypsy girl
All your days you told her to stay.
All your lies caught up to you
And now shes walking away

Black Heart man taken by surprise
He misses seeing the Sunrise in her eyes
Now she's running in the wind with your heart
Turning the player of the game into the piece.

All her life she's been running in the sun
All your days you told her to stay.
All your lies caught up to you
And now shes walking away

The man whos never wished well on his own mother
Is now wishing well for another
Wishing she's running with the starlight in her eyes
The gypsy girl and the black heart man never to meet again.

"Take my hand" she'd whisper
He remembers the voice in his mind
Her laugh of no other kind
Her silent language,as if she knows something you don't.

Of course she knows better now
She knows its better to leave first
And be missed Than left
And be forgotten

All her life she's been taught to run
All your days you told her to stay.
All your lies caught up to you
And now shes walking away

The black heart man and the gypsy girl never to meet again
HE promised her the midnight moment
All she has forever now is disappointment
She knows more than he, heart ache isnt worth it.

All her life she's been taught to run
All your days you told her to stay.
All your lies caught up to you
And now shes walking away

 The gypsy girl and the Black hearted man never to meet again. 

Saturday, January 11, 2014


1) "May I think?" I ask
"May I think of my morals?"
..."May I follow them?"

2) Child like wonder
Burns in the hearts of adults
Muffled freedom cries!

3) Remember me please!
My memory fades, alone
Remember my name. 

Sunday, December 22, 2013

this is a snip it of an old book of mine from a year ago. i never finished it.these are the first two pages

I’ve lived here, in the woods for years. I am the only Huntsman in the city. My job is very simple, keep the people in the city, and kill any who try and escape. It’s simple, and I’m simple. My name is Avery; I live in the woods just outside of City 18982.9. inside lives nine thousand three hundred of the most twisted prisoners and their families. Just about the worst of the worse live in the seams of the city. Killing each other, selling each other, and training each other for hell that they will all meet some day when they all jump over the wall that separates them from these woods. This is the inevitable, which is why they have me out here. From training when I was eight I have never missed a shot. You tell me to hit a freckle on a hot waxed pig from a hundred miles away and I will.

      Today starts like any day. I wake up splash the ice cold water from the barrel bottom sink that I fill up everyday from the fresh water creek a quarter mile from here. I wash my face in the mold covered mirror with a crack that doubles my face diagonally. I’m eighteen and I look like I’m forty. My face is tired looking what with all the bags under my eyes, and the full stubble on my face. I pull my scraggly hair into a short pony tail and begin my trek around the city looking for the people that I will never find. I’ll tell you this much, my trigger finger is mighty hungry.

      During these kind of winters I hate living out here. Wearing ten pairs of socks, just to keep them from freezing, and you best sleep with your mouth shut out your spit with cement your tongue right in place. The snow makes everything wet and I can’t stand it. But it’s the fall’s the spring’s and the summers to make me want to stay out here.

      They pay me a lot of money actually. Enough so that when I can quit I can quit into the neighborhoods not the cities. I have forty years of this. Forty years of being entirely alone. In fact I’m fine with that.

      As I walk my mind wonders. I was nine when I started this job. I remember all that I have seen, back in those days a lot of people tried to escape. None of them could get more than a step away from me before they painted the wall red. I love that color, the color red. Even when I find scrapes and the red pours down, I find myself admiring it, and the way it reflects my face as I look into it as some distorted face of a clown, if I lean one way I smile something I haven’t done at all in years. It feels sour to smile, like a gross mishap that you fake when you shouldn’t be angry on a day so kind. but these days aren’t  kind to me. As much as I say its fine that I am alone I do wonder what it is like to laugh, I can hear it from behind the wall. The little offspring of the evil, laughing and playing as if their lives have meaning. But they will all die before they get there. I used to say that I am the lucky one, but now I can omit to the fact that I know that they are truly the lucky ones. Even though they will rot behind that wall, and I could do great things, I will never have my childhood, or friends, or a girl to swoon over, the only person who has ever heard me talk is the Visitor. It’s not happy when he comes, if he does then you gone and pissed someone off. He’s an old half blind man that’s got more scars on his face then un-rustled skin. The only way to describe this man would be to describe an alpha  wolf. Great reputation of valor and triumph, a face that strikes fear into all that see him, and power and strength greater then his own kind. But will die alone in the woods without a name to be given to his headstone. He has his pack, who have his back, but none will die for him, and none will let him die for them. I guess, they are the lucky ones even though they will die without a great legacy, they will have names, from their dog tags, and a family crying over their loss.

      By the time my treck is over I walk back to my expansive tree house. It’s late in the day and I’m as hungry as a bear, I scale the rope ladder and pull myself into the tree house. This night starts like every night, I light the thirteen candles around the huge tree house, I put three logs in the wood burning stove and listen to the radio, as I eat the spaghetti out of a can with my plastic spoon, I sit down at the corner table and I hum along to the jazz music that plays, “Someone to Watch Over Me,” then my favorite, “Georgia on my Mind.”

      I am washing the can out and setting it n the open window when I hear something that makes this night not to ordinary. Heavy boots on the wood floor. I grab my gun and I keep my back to the wall, I peer over the corner and my heart stops racing when I see the Visitor. But then it speeds right up when I realize that it’s the Visitor. I put my gun down and salute him until he barks, ‘at ease’. I still stand at attention as Visitor licks his cracked lips.

      “Son you have been doing a great job, and I know that you are working so hard with all the escapees.” He smiles… sarcastically? Or does he think that this is a dangerous place?

      “Oh… thankyou sir.” I nod in agreement, did he come to praise me?

      “Oh, don’t bull shit me boy,” nope, “Now, at the last meeting we were talking about exterminating this post all together. Now being your designated Visitor, I couldn’t let that happen… so your welcome. I got you, double-re-assigned. You will still be a Huntsman, but as it has it this is the safest place in the land now in days, so you will also be a Guardian.” When he says this I freak out, being a Guardian is guarding a person of interest, either a criminal or a rich kid, and no one is rich anymore. But you are responsible for them, for some reason the Committee needs them alive, if they die, so do you, in the same way that they did. It’s like a mega babysitter, “Say thank you, I got you a little bit of a gift… would you like to see?” he laughs. I am nervous as he whistles down the ladder and I hear the uneven clamoring of shoes of the rope latter. Maybe it will be a boy and he will be helpful, and I have someone to talk to, maybe it’s a younger boy and I will have to learn to change diapers, and feed a child. I panic so I close my eyes until the noise stops, and I was, speechless to say the least. Wen I opened my eyes there stood a girl. She was eerie looking. She had thin bangs, made of black hair, a pale innocent round face, with big copper eyes, her hair was straight down to her broad hips and dark brown hair curled at the ends, she had a tiny waist and was built like a women. She couldn’t have been, though, more than fifteen, or sixteen. She wore an off white thin jacket, a black skirt with a white blouse tucked into it, with knee high white socks, and black shoes, she wears a golden necklace with a red stone in the center, she is carrying two suitcases, and sits them down at her feet. Rich kid? Maybe, I would say so if it wasn’t for her marks of abuse. Bruises on her pale skin, on her neck and littering her visible legs. He looked down to her feet as he saw me looking over her, under her eyes were black bags of sleep depravations and she was shivering. The girl was frail, but you could tell she had meat on her  bones prior to whatever brought her here.