Turtles

Passive
Picture by: Joey Klarenbeek

Listless,

Slow stirring in a morning decoration

Dragging bodies out of feathers

To another day of fussing, another life of protest

 

Careless,

Devious patterns of logic

A brewing nasty of a coffee pot

To another slew of breath, under hot waterfalls

 

Vigilant,

Weary flashes before the battle

Like lambs on a plate without much fuss

To another show of hands, without fingers

 

Violins,

Hums to a day, of darkening clouds

A heavy head sings in a swirling crowd

To another day of smiles, a mutual addiction of the town

 

Wandering,

Thumbing your  way to another long gone dawn

Grateful, they say – in a flash of a frown

That who settles never eats the worrying worm

 

Mechanical,

By the hour to the slow circling clock

Stoking the fire, you are reliving the whims

Restless desires to connect, medicated picture perfect

 

Dopamine,

Fabricated spoils of life, kick in the decline

We come to bow to the fake, willingly tie-in

Rewiring  your way through, the connected society aligns

 

(Dis)connected,

Pretentious attention, drawn towards the blue light

Dazzled by everything glimmering, dying turtles to city lights

Attention span to zero and falling, most excellent

 

Omnipresent,

Opinions accumulate, the lone warrior defends the race

Triumphant cult, glowing in the right of the wrong

Never surrender, the dazzle to be your guiding whore

 

Deliverance,

Obedient to what is unrepairable despair

Kissing you into the depths of fixation, no realisation

Controlled to be in control, rewired and elasticated

 

Hinder,

For those who believe, don’t stray the sane

The  tipping point, with greying hair, lies desecrating smiles

Give in, to connection, to the world without expectation

Follow the calling, don’t dissolve in empty appreciation

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Bow To The Man

On sickly strings, you’re guided through,

dribbling temptation, so easy to fuck with all of you

A bleak purpose further divides

now dives, into an artificial paradise

Magnetize the herd, manipulate and choke ‘em

Gutted without consent, strategically broken

Dead bodies walking, bidding of the tyrants, 

Finding beauty in filter frames and ornate defiance

Itching on a constant hit, obeying on a constant shift

the trail of a dying age, so addictive and so vindictive

Rewired on a consistent feed, constant gratification of a needy mind. 

Lift the finger, obsession becoming the feud of your kind. 

Click, click, click.. .fits fits fits

Capture the moment that you abused to bits

A recumbent junkie on a depleting stash, 

A devious play in the origin of trash

Poisoned are the mountains, the river and the lair

Once bitten shy now is on a display in full flair

They take it all, they keep it all 

They break it all, then they predict you all 

Analyse your dirt, your death and your birth

They come to reclaim, once a teacher – now a slave

Encourage the fire, you bend for the show

like whores on a display window, begging for a score 

Put on the glamour, the filter and all the glamour lights

Stage your babies, poke and prod and make them bite

Pet the dog, feed your cat – get them tumescent for the frame 

Your stories reeking attention, a herd that’s following the shame. 

They’ve hacked you all, with such grace and slender 

So many distractions yet we dent on slumber. 

Send the children to the fire, the hypnotized masses log the pyre

Breathe the fumes of the empire, to be addicted another day 

Map of hypocrisy, crumbling democracy

Near the end of humanity, we slowly count the days.

###

Bow to the Man

On sickly strings, you’re guided through

dribbling temptation, so easy to fuck with all of you.

A bleak purpose further divides

now dives, into an artificial paradise.

Magnetize the herd, manipulate and choke ‘em

Gutted without consent, strategically broken

Dead bodies walking, bidding of the tyrants

Finding beauty in filter frames and ornate defiance

Itching on a constant hit, obeying on a constant shift

the trail of a dying age, so addictive and so vindictive.

Rewired on a consistent feed, constant gratification of a needy mind

Lift the finger, obsession becoming the feud of your kind. 

Click, click, click….fits fits fits

Capture the moment that you abused to bits.

A recumbent junkie on a depleting stash

A devious play in the origin of trash.

Poisoned are the mountains, the river and the lair

Once bitten shy now is on a display in full flair.

They take it all, they keep it all 

They break it all, then they predict you all.

Analyse your dirt, your death and your birth

They come to reclaim, once a teacher – now a slave.

Encourage the fire, you bend for the show

like whores on a display window, begging for a score.

Put on the glamour, the filter and all the blinding lights

Stage your babies, poke and prod and make them bite.

Pet the dog, feed your cat – get them tumescent for the frame 

Your stories reeking attention, a herd that’s following the shame. 

They’ve hacked you all, with such grace and slender 

So many distractions yet we dent on slumber. 

Send the children to the fire, the hypnotized masses log the pyre

Breathe the fumes of the empire, to be addicted another day.

Map of hypocrisy, crumbling democracy

Near the end of humanity, we slowly count the days.


Hand of God

Finding God.jpg

A darkening heart and a fuming fiend

defending his magnificence

with an equal decadence of methamphetamine

Fathering his insignificance

Clean feet and peeling pride

hung my faith on the flip of a coin

on my whims, on my downs

burn the temple on a mad man’s frown

Obliteration of a dying man

marching orders on a blind junkies plan

the malice resonates in your house

the temple sacked and crumbling down

The death’s barging through the door

you well as just might admit what you actually stand for

Holding your gut for the moment in time

You lived through your teeth, now you’re trying to fight

Place the bones back, you know what you are

what tricks you are made up of

What courses you are capable of

an oath, you are incapable of

Here lies his eternal hand, on the head

onto the shoulder then finally on the throat

The Lord taketh what had maketh me

So, I’ll take it down

All of it, the temple and your fucking town

I don’t need your faith, I’ll find a way to carry on

in this life or my next chase

Broken is the finger that guided the palm

guided my hour, from the day I was born

Now it no longer shows me the way, no longer clenches and

does not twitch on my mistakes

An unknown tyrant commandeer these ropes

the payment due, slow twisting hopes

Transcending his own indecency

He’s to be jailed, let him not be free

The beating continues until the morale improves

till the victim goes biting and broken in two

the twisted road to Gehenna reveals

A leap beyond this world, onto a new journey, towards Elysian fields

###

The Wait

Savage, it all is. Left to the right to the utmost depth of a barely breathing heart spurting hope and lies

Like a suffocating fish, dreaming with its mouth open, just one last taste…just maybe…it won’t die

On a whip of a night, the weak today thrives.With shine of a screen and on an insecurity high,

Succumbing to the madness, the final chapter of a blank page, with a dead march and a whimper inside

A poisoned pasteur, devoid of a path and heading, here hangs a shepherd, quite like a fruit of his fathering

The wait is not over, carry on, move on, burn on and crumble inwards like a leaf in the heat

It’s hard to ignore, to feed off the peers, to see the celebrations in eyes.

It’s more sickening to find no answers to the endless why’s

None get what they deserve, they recieve what others shed. Breathing it, with a sick fucking taste in their head

Half a year, the wait becomes the sickening, then worsening, leading onto a wait for the festering

Wait more, it’ll come, sew your eyes, your mouth, your tongue.

Cradling hope and giving blood, you lay painfully, wistfully, hopefully…….so numb.

Your Assume

Related image

Witness scratches on the surface, the runt to the fucking litter

Displayed in a dirty glass casing, sold to the highest bidder

He can tell, all filth isn’t gold – chafing through, in his terror of need

No salvation in old, while setting ablaze to his withering leaf

Any takers to the judgments of a manic in rage?

Any believers to embrace a headless snake, betrayed?

Here you are! What’s the word? What’s the verdict on a twisted mind?

Father the thought on these corpulent finds. Sick and sacred, buying flawed designs

Somewhere between the taunts and talks, lies a dormant side suffering from disguise

He gives you, your assume and you consume, then you resume, irrelevant of his self-abuse

His higher reach, in despair. He cradles a heart with care and illusion

Reveal nothing, bear everything, a self-made prostitute with no constitution  

Cognitive future lapses, a man so true, he shall be the god, that never does damage to you

Fable tied and bound to one lasting light, where he shall come back for everyone again

Witness a dying breed of an iron reel, once again, the man plays the shame

A recluse lays among the privileged, his howl in the wind and all their crimes

Hate shall be hate, a human leech sinking, on a borrowed life line


Cheshire Hung

In the harshness, he softens

In cold nights, he flares

In talk, he lay implicit

In silence, he tears

Blood to the tongue, a foul mouth reigns

The haunting sacrifice, a dying wonder blames

The wildfire light, the mad mirror talk

The scream to his beckoning, the needles puncturing on

His head down now, the Cheshire cat hung

His simper gagged. Look, who’s smiling now?

Swallowed the sun, the sweat too sweet

Ablaze are the days, a rootless tree, finally kneels

Rest comes to the easy, sleep comes to the rest

Anchor the ungodly hour, the venomous heart at unrest

The last light to the dying day, the change consuming true

The last stretch of hand at sea and he clawed the night away

Domino

Fallen is the word, fallen is his halo, cursed is the might of the man

Twisted with the cord of solemn, like a singed dog on a leash,  he now finally began

A sour wind blows this way, the edge of the paper ashes away

Madness is as mad does, then comes the sickening and finally the blade.

Bow down to the needle and bow down to the string, let’s play the serpent once again

Welcome home to reality, unremitting thoughts lay wasted in vain

Taciturn to the sheer filth of things, the fragments lurking around the bend

Watch while he walks his walk,  delirious and entwined in his own volatility

The end of the horizon to nowhere, undertow of his battle, he then smells blood

Two lives weaved in a grieving mist, calmed by the wings of vultures above

All of that is end now, for I have arisen from their despair

On stable grounds I find my boot, the mirth of domino takes his place

Another act on the heaven’s door, mystery to the souls of despair

Break down to the minimum, let them not see where you buried the mare

Mania

Related imageSlow son, slow. On a tasty rail, cold as heart, seal the fold. 

Rusty blinds, chaos twirls, hiding face in a meaningless rage.

A haze of high and screams from a potter’s pot, furnace flames, and paper trails.

Sniff the saint while you powder the bone, wax the vein, cripple the saint.

Sink and float, sink and float.

Gather the angels and sing their tongue, script the horror while we flay the gulls.

 

Pummel the wall while you mend a little, shatter the illusion, bite the rope.

Snort, choke, flem.. dismal.

Bolster the glass and you slug the liquid, feel mania… At last!  

Needle the priest, burn the man. Hunt the faith, beckon the warmth, then the nameless pride and finally..the sickening.

Clothed and naked, my fear is traded, play the part, handshakes of knives. Light the room and sway in comic, attention seeking whore……..let’s give them a show.

Embrace the pill, the peril, the salvation, morphined like a rabid dog or a dying soldier.

Dethroned king with a broken scepter, licking wounds, paranoid nectar.

Cage the sage, the swing of the pendulum. Tracing history, of scathed emblems.  

I put down this quill, the thought and the canter, another night of chaos, destruction, and blind lanterns.

Hermit

The air’s heavy, a certain flame to the mind. The body caves in, ears picking on the strays outside.

Torn by might, the sound, the weight and by the emperor,

The devil’s hour whispers on, folding feebly at the center.

What the hermit feels, lays beyond words and wisdom,

The poet dangles from a tree, forbidden fruit of a maleficent kingdom.

Hold the quill, lose the voice! Sever the tongue and speak of it never,

Sold in mould, spiralling out! With traces of warmth, babbling in fever.

The strength to feel and the courage of need,

A typhoon takes birth in a child’s eyes.