Releasement

i dont know what youve been told,

but you do not control my soul

please just let me on my way

trust me, ill be okay

you can forever follow me

but know your still my enemy

you can forever be with me

but know theres no comradery

you have taken

everything away from me

but i know this war

is all about making me bleed

Selector, not Protector

When envolved with a situation, where do we draw the line?
Better yet, how do we draw the line?
And to take it a step further, when or if we do draw the line,
do we actually stay on that side of the line?
If our society is limited by they walls and protection of one's self,
why do we kill?
why do we steal?
why do we rape?
why do we lie?
and the list keeps getting longer while we still live.
Nothing can help us now,
our beliefs are not those of everyone else,
our fate is as protected as war torn countries,
and yet we still manage to move along.
Letting civil terrorism engulf our streets with hatred and bloodshed,
Whenever a human being claims that god saved them,
why couldn't he save the hopeless?
the frail?
the brittle?
the children?
the humanity........

American Religion

floss our toes with green and gold
for we forgot what we have been told
no one to guide
no one to direct
all of our air gone
no chance of breath
please excuse our ignorant styles
dragging on greed for too long of a while
our kings grab power as the peasents fade
no renegade or robin hood to save the day
no light no dark no medium to function
all is gone with our dollors destruction
sinking, like a brick in the pond
heavier debts push us downward and on
looking for a place to lay our delemas to rest
but the addiction to money keeps us under durress
as children, carefree wanderers under protection
yet as adults, no one watches our lustfull collection
dreams and ambitions, blinded by its tricks
it starts to dissapear, just for kicks
but its not funny, poverty causes our biggest problems
yet no one has the tools or the abilities to solve them
so i live my life with a mind feeling young
no matter if my story is left unsung
for when all the tragedy has come and past
my country can live in peace at last.

The Hectic Skeptic

plants are bleading

bargins left pleading

i am what i am

a fool whose lost his sham

the tigers breathing

is as calm as reading

waiting on his prey

as his heart turns grey

clocks are ticking

and lights left flicking

our world is always on

waiting for your song

your time is done

and thats no fun

so whatever youve learned

comes from letters unburned

4 less lies

mix with attentionless cries

takes the night away from here

to a place so sad

i cannot shed a tear

life and time

have gon and lost their minds

but eyes and ears

stay open and candid

without any fears

the hypochondriac's

risk of a heart attack

still makes no less sense

and has lost its suspense

the birds will soar

while the tiger will roar

still the grounds to make amends

comes from such troubled winds

her misguide fortune

overexagerates the portion

yet the niave will take trial

with their relentless denial

chivalry is not dead

it just doesnt fancy the newbred

the mistakes remain deft and sly

when decisions turn faces to sighs

match book fates

come shiped in wholesale crates

vanity and greed comes and lays

in the place that you bow

still, i hear what he says

strung with fire

where the hammers become drier

beings invite the purity

on any occaision

as long as they have security

The Conductor

programed minds and worn out faces

against the complacent replacements

expect nothing from the celebrity

only here to lay hands into pavement....

He conducts a symphony of rage

that echoes with the violins of violence

one wrong motion sets off a chaos

not of rebellion, but that of defiance

His rhythm synchronizes with his mind

and his beat will rennovate and innovate

because while all of them keep the tempo up 

its the fire of his drum that insinuates

The hammers of the piano smashes on strings

following his fingers to privacy through ivory

he hangs riffs of majors in the auditorium

as minors blend with the darkness of ebony

Horns assemble to create an ocean of brass

to bring the sounds of an infinite infantry

warming the mood, the tone, the audience

resting the past and calming through infancy

He leads his brothers into all stages of hope

where their sound creates shroud for the crowd

volume has no purpose for his spectators

playing never too soft, never too loud......

Educe and Produce

find your sympathy

let it drown

make me a parody

let it fail

define reality

let it rule

create serenity

and then pull

saction the energy

let it pulse

console the tragedy

let it fall

retrace the enemey

let him run

direct his apology

to the gun

violence is everything

let it stop

peace became novelty

let it rise

puzzled by complexity

let them stay

introduce simplicity

watch one stray