Gloryfades
12-25-2006, 02:28 PM
okay, this stuff is copyrighted, so don't go stealing ;) would really like some constructive criticism, and happy holidays to all:
The Fight of the Century
by Gloryfades
We are bees.
Swarm and sweat, consume and create, fight and ****.
Soldiers attack festering wounds like a pauper begging for a dollar.
Mechanized Workforce. Mechanical Bull.
This vivid illusion:
Our chains are habit, our shackles religion.
Crusaders chase their Vodka with the electricity of America’s chairs
Suited for royalty in luxury suites of cheap concrete and electrical fences
Our walls are our minds, our interrogation is convention
….justice?
The human soul is asleep in front of mid-afternoon soap opera re-runs
Flashing on the television in an epileptic rainbow of glamour and promise
“Is it in you?” and “Just do it.”
We see our dreams unfold in a world of pixels and light.
Hollywood!!!
The end of the Samuri was remembered.
The end of the world will be televised.
We are the children of post-modern thought:
desperation, absurdity, emptiness.
For some, this pistol is their medicine.
We fire integrity and progress from the barrels of our handguns,
Only to realize the blood was fake, the bullets blank.
We are the athletic legends: the Barry Sanders’, the Muhammed Alis…
...Later they realized it was just a game.
Thousands living vicariously through their lives
Out of desperation for their own.
We lay asleep on the event horizon of Stephen Hawking’s synthesized musings
Invevitably doomed, hopelessly persevering
The black hole of fate swallows us against our will.
What do you do when no matter how hard you try,
you can’t change anything?
We’ve done this to ourselves.
Salvage the wreckage, 'O shrapnel-impaled solitude...
At the speed of a thousand flailing arms we drown
Guilt squeezes the oxygen from our exhausted lungs
And our burdens weigh us to the depths
of this dark abyss of submerged geography and
Civilizations of aquatic history and water-logged novels:
A forlorn, glazed stare of hunger glances around the corner
Of the local nickel and dime store,
Now that nickels and dimes have turned
Into bodies and pride.
Mistakes no longer fade, no longer hurt, but rather kill.
$2.35 per gallon of gas for a thousand gallons of blood
Is this our dream of the future?
Spaceships and dinners in little, yellow capsules forgotten
The Hope Diamond shrugs with hopelessness and apathy.
“a mathematical elimination of the weak.”
We are evolving.
Mutating the warm flesh of a heart into the hardened steel of a guillotine.
Our souls and thoughts twisted into boulian logic and probability models.
We live for fear and disgust, if only to prove to ourselves that we’re still alive.
Movies prey upon calculated horror
while we eagerly consume their cookie-cutter emotions.
The moment before this train derails...
is a thing of beauty.
__________________
The Fight of the Century
by Gloryfades
We are bees.
Swarm and sweat, consume and create, fight and ****.
Soldiers attack festering wounds like a pauper begging for a dollar.
Mechanized Workforce. Mechanical Bull.
This vivid illusion:
Our chains are habit, our shackles religion.
Crusaders chase their Vodka with the electricity of America’s chairs
Suited for royalty in luxury suites of cheap concrete and electrical fences
Our walls are our minds, our interrogation is convention
….justice?
The human soul is asleep in front of mid-afternoon soap opera re-runs
Flashing on the television in an epileptic rainbow of glamour and promise
“Is it in you?” and “Just do it.”
We see our dreams unfold in a world of pixels and light.
Hollywood!!!
The end of the Samuri was remembered.
The end of the world will be televised.
We are the children of post-modern thought:
desperation, absurdity, emptiness.
For some, this pistol is their medicine.
We fire integrity and progress from the barrels of our handguns,
Only to realize the blood was fake, the bullets blank.
We are the athletic legends: the Barry Sanders’, the Muhammed Alis…
...Later they realized it was just a game.
Thousands living vicariously through their lives
Out of desperation for their own.
We lay asleep on the event horizon of Stephen Hawking’s synthesized musings
Invevitably doomed, hopelessly persevering
The black hole of fate swallows us against our will.
What do you do when no matter how hard you try,
you can’t change anything?
We’ve done this to ourselves.
Salvage the wreckage, 'O shrapnel-impaled solitude...
At the speed of a thousand flailing arms we drown
Guilt squeezes the oxygen from our exhausted lungs
And our burdens weigh us to the depths
of this dark abyss of submerged geography and
Civilizations of aquatic history and water-logged novels:
A forlorn, glazed stare of hunger glances around the corner
Of the local nickel and dime store,
Now that nickels and dimes have turned
Into bodies and pride.
Mistakes no longer fade, no longer hurt, but rather kill.
$2.35 per gallon of gas for a thousand gallons of blood
Is this our dream of the future?
Spaceships and dinners in little, yellow capsules forgotten
The Hope Diamond shrugs with hopelessness and apathy.
“a mathematical elimination of the weak.”
We are evolving.
Mutating the warm flesh of a heart into the hardened steel of a guillotine.
Our souls and thoughts twisted into boulian logic and probability models.
We live for fear and disgust, if only to prove to ourselves that we’re still alive.
Movies prey upon calculated horror
while we eagerly consume their cookie-cutter emotions.
The moment before this train derails...
is a thing of beauty.
__________________