-Photographs Of Ghosts- My memory is fading day by day The images have become so vague They’re vanishing from My aching brain, and I just can’t seem to hold on to them Though, this doesn’t begin to Fill me with worry Now nostalgia can no longer bind me Yet, the more that I smoke And the more that I drink Just gives me more of an excuse Not to think about The repercussions I’ll face When I sink into The depths of dementia, The abyss of amnesia, or Truly old age… As the days fade away And the pages of the calendar Fall off like leaves On the autumn breeze Over time, All the memories we’ve made Will seem like Photographs of ghosts, or Quotable lines from the films That we love most… Our brains are Highly complex organisms, yes But they are not invincible Like organic computers Over time and extended usage They will slowly become obsolete So, in order to remember What you did in the morning You must first forget your dreams Until you wake up one day, Out of memory, and Lost in a perpetual state of Meaninglessness… With pockets full of Pictures of ghosts…
-Night Terrors- May the good I have done remain May the wrongs I have done Be washed away… Each night, as we lay our heads down And drift off into dreams We are given access to Another dimension of being Where we can observe Our daily routines and anxieties Take on metaphorical bodies In truly terrifying scenes… Your worst fears have been let out Now they’re creeping Through your house Red blood dripping from their jaws As they close in for The feast of flesh… I need someone to comfort me For, these dreams are Ever growing in intensity Like the unkept leaves of The trees in this forest That I wander so aimlessly. Does every scene Of these nightmarish dreams Hold a deeper meaning That we can not perceive? Terrifyingly implying that Our actions are mere fractions of The whole institution Which frames our mental constitution; The Illusions of our pride and ego Must fade away if we expect to Witness any true improvement. How could you think that You could be set free Without first ridding your brain of The notions of hate and greed? O! the horrors you will face As your dreams scenes take place Laying waste to Your childhood friends, and All your favorite cartoon characters It’s scaring your brain Right out of it’s organic disguise! No longer hidden between your ears, Underneath your hair, Or behind your eyes. Struggling to witness The sickness that forms from Unchecked psychological illnesses. Lingering morbidly and festering The mental wounds of depressions wait And gather strength For that fateful day When repression gives way To ventilation, and We say all those big words That we never could explain… Our bodies are emotional bottles; When shaken, our liquid feelings Shall spill, and Stain our fancy white shirts...
-Fools Multiply- Fools multiply When wise men are silent, and Violent people speak up Every time that there is a speech Which does not agree With their beliefs Their grief, it separates the masses Just like the hate that they preach… They speak of peace while waging wars And spread disease like canker sores Among the lips of herpes victims Jaded now, but once adored… They try to label us In castes and classes Separate and break us Like cheap plates and glasses Pit man against his brothers And daughters against mothers In a never ending battle Like an endless herd of cattle Marching blindly to their death Just to escape their final breath.. You see, the thing about Stupid people is; They multiply quicker than Intelligent people. Therefore, there will always be More stupid than intelligent People in this world...
-The Pondering Of Dreams- Hello?… Is anyone there?… No?… Then I guess I must be dreaming again O! Dreams!… Those surreal mental vacations From reality Those infinitely customizable Landscapes of perception Built from the personal experience And ambition of each Individual artist Mid-creation… How they give us something to look forward to at the end of Each passing day A glimmer of hope Seen through rose colored glasses A light at the end of The monotonous tunnel of life… Our dreams, though sometimes Vague and confusing to us Hold more meaning than We could ever truly perceive Like metaphorical keys To the doors in our minds Which comprehend implied meaning And symbolic significance, yet They have been locked away For so long now Their contents have become Foreign to our senses So we embellish and contort them To fit our intent Preventing ourselves from Realizing the truth within Each frame to frame Description of our lives Played out like an abstract film Before our very eyes A predetermined set of events That we would just maybe Catch the slightest glimpse of If we could only lose faith in Our own sight… But don’t take my word for it I can’t tell you anymore than I don’t already know… If our dreams were visions of the future We’d certainly pay more attention when we sleep… Each night we succumb to sleep And are reborn in the land of dreams We are given a glimpse of What the future may be But as we rise with the sun And the last of our dreams Have all but gone We pretend to remember Every fleeting scene… But ignorance is bliss When we misinterpret the true meaning of Simile for reality Like birds and bees Having crazy orgies In the tall trees Yet, day by day We go about business casually As if their weren’t Dozens of sexy parties Happening just above our streets Filling the air with Moans and shrieks Misinterpretation is the Leading cause of Distrust in our nightly dreams And it seems that we can No longer stand to spend our nights Trapped in this abstract painting Of reality… So, in conclusion Maybe dreaming Just isn’t for everybody I mean, what if a person Constantly has nightmares, or Experiences reoccurring Themes of misery? Its not for me to say Whats right or wrong After all, I’m only a dreamer Lost in my own imagination…
-Deceptive Perspective- There is a very big difference Between the way we see ourselves, and How other perceive us in the streets On rainy afternoons When the sun peaks behind the clouds As we make our way through town Just like an urban carousel Slightly rundown, but Still completing it’s cycle… Self image, in it’s concept, Relies on an individual’s Ego and confidence; and Sense of worth in their existence. To live like a prince or pauper Is the offer we are given Every morning we have risen from That prison of our sheets… When we rise with the sun, and We look at the one true face Who really cares about us In the mirror Does it smile or frown At the person we’ve become?
-Memories Relapsing- Under the guise of yonder times Past memories rush in Pressuring us, within our minds To relapse again Now we’re becoming addicted once more To the good old days Let the nostalgia begin! So we can feel once more Like we used to feel Not burdened by The weight of experience… Remember when you lived Without a worry as You hurried to your buddies house, And scurried past the couch Just fast enough to miss the cat Who always hissed And scratched at you every single time That you’d walk by, and Now you wonder why You’re a dog person Later in life… You say you don’t like cats? Me too, I don’t like cats And you, do you like cats Hell no, you don’t like cats! So, if you don’t like cats And I don’t like cats Then lets be birds of a feather And we’ll both hate on cats together, Dog… Memories relapsing once again Brought on by a bad case of The "remember when's" I know i should be Living in the present, but It’s pleasant sometimes, Dreaming of the past…
Case Federal 