Nothing Really Matters

Anyway the wind blows

Nothing really matters to me but

I just gotta get right outta here

You think you can love me and leave me to die

Oh baby

You think you can stop me and spit in my eye

Can't do this to me baby

Galileo, Galileo! Spare him his life from this monstrosity

Just a poor boy and nobody loves me

He's just a poor boy from a poor family!

Galileo! Figaro!

Let him go!

Thunderbolt and lightning

I see a little silhouetto of a man

Very very frightening me

Beelzebub has a devil put aside 

For me

Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth

Mama

Pulled my trigger, now he's dead

Put a gun against his head

Mama, life had just begun

Mama, I just killed a man

Now I've gone and thrown it all away

Sometimes wish I'd never been born at all

Goodbye, I've got to go

But I don't want to die, Mama

Body's aching all the time

Sends shivers down my spine, Mama

Too late, my time has come

Mama!

Carry on, as if nothing really matters

If I'm not back again this time tomorrow

Didn't mean to make you cry, Mama

Anyway the wind blows,

A little high, little low

Easy come, easy go

Just a poor boy, I need no sympathy

Look up to the skies and see

Open your eyes

No escape from reality

Caught in a landslide

Is this just fantasy

Is this the real life

Doesn't really matter to me

*A rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen

The Writer's Bastille (A Sestina)

I sit here

Unable to present any letter

Oxygen flow

So incredibly slow

The hours turn to weeks

Ticking tocks and random sudden creaks

Echoing, cackling creaks

I must not leave from here

Nagging at me for weeks

But appears not a letter

Breathe slow

Let it flow

Out bursts the dam’s incredible flow

Silencing creaks

No longer slow

They soar here

The fluttering flapping of letters

To keep me content for weeks

Finite weeks

No drop left to flow

Incomplete and obscure are the letters

Precipitously resume the uninvited creaks

Yet alone here

Once more, slow

Insidious the weeks

Pretending to go by slow

Only here

Thoughts refuse flow

No sound left, no creaks

Only misshaped, cumbersome, and crippled letters

Nurse the letters

Nurture and cultivate them slow

Bring back the caressing creaks

Vitalize and elucidate the endless weeks

Be here

Demand the flow

The many hours, the many weeks

Oxygen flows

I sit here

Heil Monster

Heil Monster- A man like creature, born and raised by our kind; His growth is suddenly stunted around the same time a box-like, wooly whisker begins to emerge above his palate; Hair and eyes as black as the ashes he raises, though he prefers that of a lighter shade; Petite in size, but don’t let this fool you; From the slithers of his slimy tongue emerge the most foul of creatures, hypnotizing all who urge to listen; With one tentacle held tightly to his side, he casts the more sharper out before anyone who is near; If it were to reach you, the tentacle would pierce your throat and steal your heart; His slimy varmint wait to abduct all reason, and claim your mind. Those who are unfortunate enough to fall into his grip are granted life; Those who claim successful against his magnetizing spells and swarming virus are wretched with death endlessly surrounding them, taunting them, until they, too, succumb; Unequivocal is the damage he serves to deliver.

So, beware. He may emerge from his cell at any moment, without a given permission, enticing you with words of hope and pride. He may choose a goat to sacrifice, proving that God will accept his offering, all the while playing God himself. He will raise his tentacle up at a salute, directing his minions to destruction. And before you know it, he casts a shade over the land you call home, and on all those you hold dear. You will be left surrounded. There will be no escape, for this Monster has taken all reason, and has lavishly consumed all hearts. All that will be left is the strepitous, deafening melody of his blonde hair, blue-eyed progeny singing, “Heil Monster.”

Tweet me @ButNotPoet

(Click to enlarge image)

Unadjusted to the Breeze (A Haiku)

The hued sprinkled leaves

Leave me chilled and unsure if 
The time is for me

Together (Video)

Visible Vibrations

If we could see sound


Every raindrop splashed, unique to its key

Every wind whistled, the gentle flute to the thundering drums of lightning

The storm, a symphony

If we could see sound

Every soft ray of sunlight shouts, the brightest sound of trumpets

Every dawdling cloud, the smoothest transition between one note and the next

The sky, the stage, the perpetual anchor, to the orchestra who plays it all.