Archive for September, 2007

Dissipated Ritual (Lies Of The Emperor) 06900

From the spoken word album Puissance -1 by Big-Hired Assassin

i’m sick again

$ dwelling in the outer depths of treason.
i have found an answer to this uncanny conflict.
simplicity has burdened me.
throughout this journey of endless vision,
i’ve encountered specific standards placed upon, by themselves,
the mortal men.

an evaluation by the finest
$ most distant envious individuals.

one must question their existence.

how is it that we will know when it’s over,
when it is time to retire $ join those whom we have lost?

how will we know when our missions
are complete?

how will we know when our purpose
for roaming (roman) this impious
$ outspoken world is complete?

this palace of execution

just how can i find what it is
that i am looking for
when every time i’m close
it becomes dissonant
undiscovered
$ sealed over
by some huge $ invisible force shield
which cannot be penetrated.

would you be happier if i continued
to chase this miracle
or have you lost faith
that miracles can even happen?

not that i’d blame you

i have eyes.

Poetaster

From the spoken word album Puissance -1 by Big-Hired Assassin

i bleed with anticipation
i crave my obsession
i write for hours on end
in hope that the words never end
i’m like a gypsy for prose
i’m like a prophet of poems
i’m like a martyr for literature
i love my obsession
i love like no other
i love being a poetaster
i am not the master
the words rule me
i could not stop
even if i wanted to

Envy

From the spoken word album Puissance -1 by Big-Hired Assassin

desperation settles in my stomach like a bad glass of milk
i can not depend on you or your filthy lies
which you send me through the mail
i sat in the corner of the room, waiting for a sign.
some sort of life, love or beauty
it (life) never appeared
now, i sing my madness on my machine gun
my lungs filled w/ poison and smoke
my heart pumping toxins
my hands loading the gun
i feed your vampires…i keep them healthy
i dream of bodies…naked and violent
spun in some mechanical web of desire
the constant thought of death on my mind
i am selfish…consumed w/ concentration
i need the differences which separate us
it reminds me that i am not you
but how i have longed to be
because your lips move so sweetly
your tongue transcends erotica
your neck is perfect
your body…healthy…pure…clean
you…i want to be you…only you
no one else makes me worship
no one else makes me pray (prey)
you are the innards of christianity itself
you had the roman empire built
you crucified christ
you caused the great depression
you ended up being the only one who was unique
you questioned everything and never accepted anything
unless it proved valid in your thoughts
yet, you were able to dismiss it w/ out hating yourself
you are beauty
a stallion… a changeling… a chameleon
you dominate the peasants w/ out causing suffering
you do not need approval to remain loyal to your ideas
you, the bearer of truth
you intoxicate me… i am drunk w/ envy
i lust after your strength… your passion
just once i would like to be you
just for a moment
then i would know
if you are real

Defiant Skin

From the spoken word album Puissance -1 by Big-Hired Assassin

there is freedom in the ward of the damned
i have waited for an eternity
to stretch my sullen hands
across the border of this sullen atmosphere

i have no desire to sleep
i have no desire to rest
i only want us to get a little closer to understanding
what the difference is between sustenance and art

man has ruined all that has been given
we have chosen to allow for most of this to occur
do not act as if you are innocent
do not pretend to be indifferent

this is my playground
this is my chance to show my anger
my empathy
my intolerance
and my reality

we’ll fly further from our point of existence than ever before
curse our mother and consume our father
for this is man, and man discourteously casts his morals aside
for the chance to make his pockets one inch deeper than his fellows

you wonder why death, disease, greed, and famine plagues us

just call me noah, buddha, hare krishna, moses, jesus, or the antichrist
but believe me when i say that i am but an artist
who is intrigued by passion
and mystified with the idea of freedom

Filthy Voodoo Rhymes

From the spoken word album Puissance -1 by Big-Hired Assassin

my voice; which you called sultry
soft & delicate
& so full of passion
has become cold & raspy
& i want to sing something beautiful
something which would make you
dream fragile things
i can not help but try to conquer the void
for i am empty
i have nothing left to offer
& your beauty does not need me
does not long for me
w/ in this thought
i pray for innocence
but it does not admire me
& what do they call my poetry
scarred & bitter
& full of rage
there will never be another night
spent beside you, me love
another chance to suck each other’s brain
or to dwell in the sex crazed frenzy
& god does not need
more soldiers
nor does he need more pirates
the holocaust of doubt
has gassed me
bitten & smashed me
give me another evening
to deliver my woes
to envision my sorrow
but not to dance w/ fools
something powerful
something different
must i continue to bask in
these filthy voodoo rhymes
away from tribes; tender flowing dreams
& the opportunity to bathe in triumph
instead of drown in disappointment
nothing feels the same w/ out you
you, whom the killer took
& left immortal
amongst the crashing tidal waves
& the dummies who
think of you

call upon he who leads the dogs
into the devilish caverns
where mystery staged her name
& saw fit to dye the welkin
w/ precious paint
& frail hands
i know the prison in which she weeps
when the weapons become strong
& the people weak
the final showdown
the mental freak
the book-worm
the circus creep
who lit the lamps on 24th street
& held justice in his hand
before the post war began
worry not
in time the demons sleep
& the cancer subsides
the papers fill the basket
& the piano delights the senses
& while the orchestra
demands sullen notes
the chords deliver electric wizardry
all the while…you forget misery
& leave him in pleasantry
behind the gentle facade lies sorcery
& your spine ignites like it is
a road to destiny
live there my friend…away from despair
crumple the targets & shoot the fiend
who stole your purity
no joust for liars & hanging thieves
or late night encounters w/ visionary
live there in the silence of romance
& the frowning mothers
profound fears
live there in america
where freedom shines
on the backs of the
starving artists
& their misunderstood
alliance

i have decided
to quit my weary approaches
& move on w/ my gift of song
& to you
my beautiful poetic princess
i wish you happiness
& honor your new name
& let me not forget
your soft lips on my brow
your perfumed essence
stained w/ the stench from gamblers
who admire your presence
this is all they can do
because no man alive
is worthy of your courtship
or to feel your softest skin
your angled body
your words of wisdom
if you were a century old
you would still shine
in this undisciplined mind
which thinks of you
kind & powerful
& full of spirit
now that my hands tremble
& my body grows tainted
my words seem less important
w/ in this asylum, w/ it’s riches
& it’s decadence
i respect the words
which flow seeming endless
only in dreams do things seem so everlasting
left unharmed by the wicked ways of war
the moon which casts deliverance upon you
brings me grief
as it disappears
into your eyes
lost forever
& tucked away
in the unspoken words
hidden by your smile
i shall miss you
when time takes you
into her raven wings

mother, i do not feel strong
i do not feel lucky either
so what should i do
in this dark hour
i finally understand you
w/ pride i endure
the killer
i persevere
through the torment
of not feeling your arms around me
to sing me to sleep w/ your tone deaf ears
& your unsure miraculous voice
i regret not being w/ you
when the houses crumbled
& i walked for days on the silent oath
that i made in brushton
w/ the graveyard, i too, became silent
as giants played marbles on canada
as vagrants filled the booths
as memories faded
& pictures grew worn
the fields reassured me
of serenity
but then again
so did the mortuary
the fog
& the orchards
the wild barns
& the shallow strangers
jinxed from superstitions
myths & fairy tales
fed perversions
through foolish trails
& i entered the church
in an attempt to appease you
& i joined the holiday smashers
the cannibalistic preachers
the redundant verses
to appease you
now i am still a boy
in a man’s world
or since this is the 21st century
maybe a woman’s
either way i forgive you
& still call you
the master of change

this does not come easy to me
it is, in a sense, an exorcism
i let the demons have their way
then, & only then, do i
have the opportunity
to engage in harmony
i become one
understand that i have no choice
it is purely a coincidence
a nuisance
teresa
i wonder about you
where you are
& what you do
i recall buena vista
& the wild claims
your brilliant smile
your tortured brain
manitou
your strange ways
ritualistic ways
acid into our veins
captain rum
& drifting away
intoxicated fame
you, the drifter
seattle & alaskan boat ships
halloween & embracing lips
i am sorry that i grew
to disappoint you
your smile could topple cities
i remember our discussions
& how you saw bridges in my eyes
late night tarot readings
you always found me when i needed it most
if i could do it all over again
i would only change one thing
can you find me here?
have i lost my way?
wherever you are
i hope you still believe
that i am one of a kind
i too, have been burnt
by the pharaonic dirt

glass chambers
reflect nothing
only silence

fallen men
bubonic plague
the guardian of tidal waves

napalm death
air raids
futuristic technological slaves

wisdom & mathematical gods
take pride in being hitler
& only needing programs & logs

mute spectators
pay for this
w/ their minimum wage

value your possessions
your materialistic holocaust
will show you the way

pray w/ me for more money
more shallow fateful memories
more fatal potency

if hitler were a man
i’d respect you
& give you my aid

you, who ride the vast region
& need not open an eye
enchanting mammal kin

i can not relate
& desecrate
your children’s land

however, if you pay my rent
& my library fees
maybe, we can work something out

stale bread & recycled water
does get old & bitter
no need for the rights once granted thee

doesn’t it amaze you
how many of us are dying
& all of you dear people
who have touched my life
both good & bad
i’ve not truly explained
how this works
this great machine
this mechanical thing
see, i do not rewrite these words
i type them as they are
i am not a designer
or a sculpture
i am not a well read argument
or a prepared speech
yes, i do it w/ ease
yes, at any moment
yes, it writes itself
& all of you who know me
& read this garbage
tell me that you
wish you could do the same
no
you do not want this
if you only knew
then you would cast it aside
w/ out another thought
& you would try to forget it
because it is poetry
or prose
or verse
it has many titles
but the truth is
it has only one meaning
it means experience
& in the worst way
i have no control over
whether or not it happens
& yes, i am a hypocrite
because it allows me to be
whatever i desire
but it makes me what i abhor as well
if you want it
it is yours
i do not own or possess it
& it comes w/ no titles or deeds
you can not trade it in
or throw it out

you can not invest it
or wait for it to mature
& it holds no position
in the stock exchange
it does not make you better or holier
than anybody else
it is only poetry
or prose
or verse
it has many titles
but the truth is
you only love & respect it
because you have no other choice
it’s not due for departure anytime soon
if i could give it to you
i would
but i am not god
i am not the omega
or the supreme
nor am i the alpha
i do not breathe fire
or walk on water
i am only a man
no, i’m a poet
who is afraid to die
afraid to speak
afraid to live
afraid to be alone
afraid to fight
afraid to sing
afraid to write
afraid of you
afraid of me
& most importantly
afraid of poetry
or prose
or verse
it has many titles
but the truth is
when i find myself in this debris
& the nihilism subsides
along w/ the cancer
i will cordially invite
all of you to the ceremony
where we can relearn
what it is like
to be a child