Book of Rampage Page 2
I would guess that you sang beautifully
on your way toward our hell.
I want to tell you
the idea you are to me
is invincible and real.
It kills me and
rips me apart with quiet grace.
I believe we exist to dream
near the highest point of imperfect glory
suffering slightly for others like us.
Delusional Superstar
There is no doubt in my mind
tonight is one of the nights
memories are made of.
If you let it pass
you won’t spend a moment
regretting the chance –
knowing nothing of what could have been.
If you embrace,
you may spend more than a lifetime
watching something beautiful
echo through the heavens.
Not because
anything is in balance
or in check.
But rather,
because the memories that define are backward, devastating, or
exploded by fantasy.
It doesn’t
make sense and
kills me
every time I realize
it’s another night
memories are made of.
Split
At times,
all that matters is
the music blasting into your ears or
the music blasting from your heart.
I hear a whisper:
What denies you, defines you
in what you deny yourself.
Ways will become open to you
of your old desires
thought dead and buried.
What frustratingly rejects you initially
is easily grasped when you no longer thirst
desperately.
I hear a whisper:
What you obtain, betrays who you are
in how temptation burns to take you.
The ease of falling
will always be in tune
with the strength of your resolve.
It is wise to expect
a certain war within
struggling since some opportunities
ought to be discarded.
At times,
all that matters is
the music blasting into your ears or
the music blasting from your heart.
Stasis Breaking
On the wings of the phoenix
I say
be destroyed
and destroy in turn.
Listen to
the guns within and
the voice of reason.
Then decide
which direction is heaven.
Harness
in tune
with mercy.
Aligning with the narrow door
is to split yourself
with your brother.
This means
breaking stasis
as you enable in ways leading astray.
Listen to
the guns within and
the voice of rage.
Then decide
which direction is hell.
Unleash
in tune
with grace.
On the wings of the phoenix,
I say
be reborn
and fuel rebirth in turn.
Redemption Style
The trick is to realize
everything will be done to you
just beyond your limit.
You will be pushed to perfection
as far as you can be pushed.
So harness your will and understand
your gifts and what is expected
the damage you could inflict or
the inspiration you could ignite.
Only it’s not so easy
as that.
To rise above frustration, hatred, rage
to quiet your mind amidst distraction and speak
the voice meant to be yours.
Watcher and Destroyer,
Liar and Word Weaver,
I hear you very well.
Do not deny yourself.
Each day, bleed fire into this reality
secretly,
gracefully and without shallow purpose.
What remains is unique;
truly you.
Leaver 1
The leaver is the ultimate sacrifice –
breaking your own heart because you love someone enough
to let them walk away content.
You can feel its strain; its painful pinching
contorting the soul into something dark.
The leaver is a lesson you receive
at the gates of hell.
Hearing its sweet and terrible music
crashes hearts to their knees as the notes flow by.
The leaver is the most impossible of all hopes
to move on,
because you are sick from loss.
Such is the extent of the sacrificed love.
The leaver burns,
ready to be unleashed;
if time should call it to duty,
may God have mercy on your soul.
Leaver 2
The cause was set but the winds they’re changing
to move several directions at once.
You dance on the breeze tired and hurt.
I almost have you in my healing hands, but
the wind keeps you just out of reach,
teasing.
These gusts formed by my old design,
a trick of karma so cruel,
remind me of what happened.
I’ll spin the wind ‘round forever
never so harsh or loud again.
Streams of waking air run deeply for you,
strong on the summers breeze,
whispering softly in your ear
silent promises of love.
Sun Fire Song
An invisible hand snaps its fingers
sparking a flame
behind the curtain of illumination.
Light if another kind,
I see you through sun-shaped eyes,
building a melody of soft destruction.
As the music flows,
notes devour the resistance of a stubborn heart,
now derailed;
defeated.
Song of fire,
I will listen endlessly,
till nothing remains.
System Trigger
I saw your name on a page today.
The letters caught like a sharp reminder,
inspiring projections of time never spent,
not stolen from me
but lost in tragic style.
In context with reasons I must believe,
you exist as a story I carry,
sometimes making me stronger or
crushing me with weight.
Like a trigger designed to fire my purpose,
you force me to comprehend
thoughts that will be taken for granted.
I hope we all make it there,
together.
What’s set in motion
is a life considered unextraordinary
through the eyes of most.
The system I feel
makes the people worth it.
Every time I fail,
I think of you.
My words hold no meaning
as your name threatens to replace them,
each day,
I hide how much I love you.
The Game: a Challenge Sense
Few exist
in tune with the game.
Influence stretches people back and forth;
halfway they wish for their challenge sense to erupt
from shallow sleep.
The other half
is satisfied
they do not push or
pull.
Hope of rising above
is absent from their minds.
The thirst for a challenge,
dormant,
controlled by just enough
damnation.
As players fight this apathy,
craving destruction within
they play the game.
At the same time
they are afraid.
A struggle emerges
that cannot end
in this life.
Few exist
who know they play the game.
Gamble the Question, Gamble the Odds
For everything you imagine
there exists a set of statistics.
Numbers impossible to see or comprehend spin inside your mind,
causing conflict, pain, joy, and so much
to endure.
Could you beat the odds
within yourself?
Would you bet your life
based on your tendencies?
And which side would you choose
if the stakes were high;
the probability of
rising to the occasion.
One minute of your life for a random guess,
another for an awkward pause,
a lifetime for a risk gone awry.
Numbers you will never know
bend and twist your world -
statistics of your life.
5D
The most you can do
is train your mind to operate
outside the realm of normality;
outside the realm of comfort.
Because it’s true
we cry out for an alternate reality.
It’s true
it beckons
just beyond reach.
This world is balanced,
how we perceive one moment after another,
blind to the future,
yet able to recall time just barely behind us.
This balance,
though it be eternity’s illusion,
is the very definition of free will.
There will come a day
we share a laugh about minor fights;
minor setbacks along the way.
However,
our duty
is to blow up the world;
to create timeless moments
like explosions underneath the surface
of all we cannot perceive.
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