Inktober #25 - To Life
Twenty five to life... can I give you my advice?
Don't get cornered. Go on till you fry your eyes.
Take in that information till you're just kind of quiet,
Want to riot, but there's something that writhes inside,
That makes you eye the world with a wry kind of smile,
Look at other life like you don't see eye to eye,
There's just some kind of cynical skepticism hidden within them,
Within you? God forbidden. Gotta get this written.
I gotta get this rhythm. I gotta get to vibing.
Get to scribe in. Quickly before my time ends.
Felt this at 25 but I sat inside then. I still do.
But didn't do so much with my time then.
Now I try to write daily, and haikus,
You make me, so viable, I'm able, to rise through,
I'm in an all but soundproof room but I choose,
To use my space and refuse the fusion noose.
I mean that regular office job... yeah I got it.
But when I'm off work I'll get all melodic.
Travel to places that all feel real exotic,
If I'm really honest my work's not bad I'm just a chronic -
Procrastinator and it feels like my work,
Is just the last of many waivers I'm putting first.
It doesn't get me where I want it's not a lasting perk.
But steady income. A challenge. Contract and curse.
But I dream. I wonder if I could grab that purse,
With a million in it, would I be thrilled or finished?
Could I be rich off less, and would it instill a sense of accomplishment -
An end to the pilgrimage or just a pillage of the pill age - get good fast, and don't mind what damage you instill eh?
Diligent, putting out work like Dillinger put bullets.
I get shook by life and can't pull it.
Eat pulled oats it tastes okay, I need to revoke weight,
I need to get up early so days,
Aren't just filled with darkness in this winter time.
If you get up at five you'll see the sunshine when you're out at lunch time.
It's really just a hunch I'm only seeing stars. Maybe I'm seeing Mars.
But spitting bars. 25 to life... but going far far further.
My bars part murder. You heard it first.
I wrote at university, I wrote a universe.
I wrote in grad school, in grade school, before school,
I played too. LEGOs and rhymes - that's how I made do.
And now I'm up in here posting reviews and playthroughs,
Now I'm on the air making soundwaves that say truth,
Now I'm up in here and it feels great to be alive,
I'm before bars, and going waaaay past that twenty five.
Inktober #25 77
Inktober #24 - Untitled
Shaking my head...
I don"t want to take a break till I'm dead
I want to see red, and bleed red, and be red, like equals
If nobody gets ahead then we the people
Can be cool, right? Stop with these ridiculous fights.
But I know everybody wants to be a hero,
And to be superior - especially psychos.
And communism only works in theory, just like the bible,
I hear the real thing's dreary.
And yet capitalism doesn't work either
But we're flock animals so we need a leader.
It started with religion and we all turned to believers
Now commerce is new politics, behavioral police ideologies.
And still it doesn't make us freer!
It just feeds our greed, and satiates our egos!
Like that is all we need,
Ergo we the people... it's like we're a -
In the hunter age we fought among ourselves,
Some grew strong.
But in the current conquest of the planet,
Other species non-withstanding,
All progress that we manage only progresses our damage!
It seems we'll never learn.
No matter how much we cram in,
to our little heads. Homo Sapiens vanish.
The world would really be better with us dead or banished.
If there is a God... what does he manage?
I don't believe much ism but... maybe Deism...
There really is no joy in our ideologies,
All logic is only based on norm and understanding.
Politics are negative. All policies subjective.
What progresses all things regressive is human standing.
Then again... everything is perspective.
Mine is, like Agent Smith said in the Matrix:
That we're a plague! We are the crazies!
We mutilate our home, we terraform until our dome is faceless!
Chase into space in search of ancient races.
Fulfilling our sci-fi dreams. Go back to basics.
Prometheus. The promised deity and day but...
We're so racist.
And I don't mean: against other human beings.
I mean we're a killing machine, killing all these other inferior races, in our faith, even atheists in their race to be self-gratuitous! Like a wraith.
We're a killing machine killing our DREAMS!
What a paradox that is... and still we chase it.
I really wish we could change this.
Away with our money. Away with our playthings.
We're bigger than this. We can be great and amazing.
Show the Gods, or ourselves, that we'll grow to be ancient,
To be little micro gods in our nature-rich atrium.
And our discipline is: it CAN be better than:
Just fuck up this world and escape it.