redredblueirene

I'll edit this even more when I feel up to the task.

Try listening to Relapsing, The Clearing, or We Will Erase All Life on Earth to try and get a sense where I'm coming from when you read this. All the songs are pretty different, but they each relay some sort of emotion I was feeling at the time written.

It's a bit repetitive, I tried making each poem able to stand alone on its own. Try reading each one separately, then linking them altogether to create one big mess.

Enjoy.

This tunnel stretches on for miles.
I can hear something, someone,
Calling out.
Where, I’m not sure.
How I’ll get there is unknown.
But I need to figure out where I am.

The grey walls skillfully ribbed to perfection.
There’s no light at the end,
Somehow sparse bulbs keep this path alight.
Perhaps I should just keep walking.
The sound only relays my own footsteps,
I can’t hear what once was.
Silence. Yet my thoughts shout inside their closet.

I’ve traversed each end,
Without even knowing how I arrived.
How I found a way out is even more baffling.
The bleak night serenades from above without any guide,
At least I am outside the artificial.
I can feel the path under me,
I guess I shall just keep walking for this surely cannot be the end.

I can feel a slight breeze,
Just enough to cause my clothes to ruffle freely from my restricting body.
I can’t see what’s ahead.
For a faint moment I thought someone was shouting to me again,
But it was just the sound of my own self.

The darkness engulfs me thoroughly,
Asphalt under my feet,
I know it, I can feel it,
But it is all I can feel.
Within me is a heart,
And it seems to be all that remains of this experience.

How did I get here?
I couldn’t just have been simply placed here.
It’s not possible.
I still breathe, my veins still course with red,
This is not a dream.

I am here.
Here is where?
Where is where this path is taking me?
I’ve seen this scene before,
A white slate that absorbs everything
And paints each object black.

I’m talking now,
Out loud.
Not to myself,
To the surroundings,
But wait, when I touch freedom,
Solid walls caress me.

I’m shouting now.
I’m running,
To wherever my feet will carry me.
The black sky is relentless,
It’ll follow me to the ends of earth, I know it.
If I can even find it.

Give up.
I don’t know, I don’t know.
I’m looking behind me,
I’m looking in front of me,
To the sides, every which way.
I’m just running, running.
I can’t stop,
Not now, not ever,
Not till I find some answers.

I woke up,
Shook off the dust that was gently placed
While I slept all those years.
What’s become of me?
What’s become of my surroundings?
I look around at what lays before me,
Why is it that I am the only thing filmed with dust?

Step out into reality,
Silence pervades,
But the sun is shining.
A sign, perhaps of what good may come.
I don’t think I’m ready,
So I returned to where I awoke and closed my eyes.

I must not panic,
For it will only arise stress,
Unnecessary in every form.
No more shouting,
No more running,
Catch your breath my self whispers.
My heavy breathing takes control
Along with the warm tears I feel.

I honestly do not know how I got here.
Each foot takes a step,
Its’ rightful step forward,
As with each tear that rightfully drops.

What I am doing?
My feet have stopped what I have requested of them,
They reverse directions.
I attempt to walk to the start,
But somehow I collide with a wall that was never once there.

Panic sets in,
I’m shouting again.
Let me out I demand,
To whoever can hear me,
To whoever is minding this cruel joke.
I bang against the invisible partition,
Just keep hitting.
I’m on the verge of breaking,
Not this wall but my hand.
Just once more, then I’ll stop.

At that last strike,
My conscious shatters to a thousand pieces.
A light, unbearably clear shines through.
I can’t see,
My eyes adjust to its radiance.
The road still extends,
I believed it was asphalt and it is.
Where to now as I look back to the darkness.

I'll write something about it later.

Minds of Metal and Wheels
What are we?
Machines, no not machines.
Creatures, no not creatures.
Tell me what we are.
When we the masses assemble in chaotic organization.
When we falsely swear that we will help our own brother,
and trample on his fingers to drop him from the ledge.

Then what are we.
Rabbits afraid of the marsh?
No, not rabbits.
When our brothers' blood smears our faces
Raining from the sky up above,
What does it make us?

When we falsely accuse another of treason.
When judgment has approached our right ear
And we still say because.
Do we truly love one another
As our valley is painted red.

Atonement for all the wrong we've done.
For the countless repeated mistakes
Innocent blood shed,
Preconceived notions and no attempt at understanding.
Machines now plague this earth,
Punishing us for what we have become:
Humans, not beasts.
We have surpassed nothingness
And now our sins have come to life
With minds of their own.

In relation to the previous post, people need help. I know I have no right to go and tell others what to do and what to think so I'm not. You can listen to my words and have an open ear to them but it's ultimately up to you if wish to harvest them.

Make your mistakes, do drugs, steal, lie, cheat, waste yourself away. I'm not here to stop you, nor will I ever be there to stop you. Do as you please, just don't dig your hole so deep that you can see the Great Wall's stones. The only person that can stop you is you. Whatever you believe in, whatever tickles your fancy, be as you are. Just be as you are, destroy an entire species, maybe even two, cause a xenocide, but when you realize what you do and what you have done, you're going to cry. You're going to cry and carry the weight of all that you have done. You're going to understand that the pain was worth the realization. The realization of what you do and the life you live. The life that you live so, I don't want to say wrecklessly because it's rude, but just not wisely.

Let the search begin within yourself, then you'll understand what it is your searching for beyond.

Back to the peachy days filled with endless sunshine wheeling around on little red threewheelers. Mac n' cheese for lunch, with sliced up hotdogs if God would so grant me the luck. Naps at 1, wake up and run around till my bones collapse or when good ol' mom or dad picks me up after their 9-5. How those days have passed and passed and passed.

Now the days are desolate and dark. If not, the sun shines with rage upon the future generation. This has affected their well being. The hot rays so scorching they go through their thick skull and zap brain cells away. Instead of admiring innocent white bunnies with haunting pink eyes in cages to protect them and running around playing endless games of hide and go seek, they run and chase but not innocently. All innocence has been stripped away from their virgin minds. The media has plagued their souls, telling them to shame themselves and let others do as they please with their bodies. A game of snatch the colored the bracelet off my wrist to feel me up or let me give you a blowjob now rules our playgrounds. Bob I don't know what has become of our flowering generation, if they haven't reached the bottomless pit, they're surely on their way. It's a sickening feeling to read and hear about these pathetic beings who should know better and they do, yet they still follow what the crowd has to say and jump in with the rest.

Words to help the helpless. There's not much to say other than, I hope they find what they're looking for.

Not quite sure what the hell is going because this is the cruelest dream reality.

Written after a hard day's night:

Dinosaur Buffet
It swallows us whole,
Devours us slowly,
Our bones splinter as it fattens.
Yet people line up outside its mouth
Excitedly waiting for their turn.

The haunting shrills only excite the next victim in line.
The next person prepares for his grand entrance,
Slips off his shoes,
Folds his clothes and places it neatly aside next to the velvet rope
Bordering the holy creature from us all.

The man exhales excitedly
And squeals with arousement as he lifts his foot
To take his first step inside the salivating mouth held wide,
With shoulders pumped, chin to the sky, and lips caked with glory
He painfully consents to his consumption.

His high-pitched screams cause us to applaud with elation.
The line continues on
Beneath the pedestal on which we file on for meters,
The crowd below speaks words incomprehensible to us atop.
They remain calm and grounded,
Except for those who choose their newfound salvation
And take the escalator up towards the masses.

Those below point and shout to us above
Advising to step away from our ‘folly’ choice
Before we plummet into the depths of what they call nothingness.
“Our folly choice,” those blind fools cannot see the light,
Blinded by their selfish stupidity.

Oh dear, what can save us now?
Their screams are not enough.
Swallow us all up for we are surely not worthy.

as i had just finished refreshing my outer self in preparation for the new day, i meticulously began to dress myself. no sooner than i put on my tightie whities with a towel wrapped around my body and a turban upon my head, i hear the lock attempting to be undone. the door is pushed aside for about two inches and then quickly drawn as a solemn 'sorry' drifts behind. i was left there surprisingly unabashed since i was not naked, but if i had been i'm sure i would have been flushed for most of the day at the thought of what had occurred. i am yet to confront the culprit, but i am sure it will be of certain comedy.

boxes are just so formatting, i hate them. let me live.

*that giggly icon does not accurately capture the state of giggliness i am in.
*the song title is far too long is what some would say, i say you're just not long enough song title. SELLTHEHOUSESELLTHECARSELLTHEKID SFINDSOMEONEELSEFORGETITI’MNEVER COMINGBACKFORGETIT

today the marshmellows that float so gently above managed to drive themselves off. i think with the persuasion of zeus and his mighty thundersticks, they rode off into the sunset. everyone gets tired sometimes and gods are no different, no matter how praised they may be. goodness gracious great balls of fire it's good to be a smokin' celeb.

on a lighter note....when asked the question of whether or not a person is okay, he or she must reply "sometimes."