Kill The Son

"Kill The Son"
2014

I need to kill the son my mother raised
if I am looking to survive
'Cause you can't be as nice as I'm known to be
And still hope to stay alive
For kindness morphs into a weaker trait
If you're quick to up the dose
And the knives are quick to penetrate your heart
If you allow the wielders close
For most people are liars.
Selfish, ungrateful liars.
Who pick their spots and feign concern
In the hopes of lowered guards
But that's when they stick it in and break it off
To leave you bleeding, picking shards.
And as the fragments pierce your better parts
You've been fucked and left confused
And discarded like some disgusting thing
From which the owner's not amused
But who cares, right?
Everyone is the martyr in their own stories.
A victim of an injustice so grand,
That the gods should take notice
And pull us down off our chosen cross
and heal the stigmata wounds we wear
Like proud tattoos, or hearts we've sown on sleeves
To prove to everyone that we care.
Yet people say that we shouldn't change
And just stay true to who we are
But friend, my blood trail can be followed
To here from anywhere afar
Because the blades protruding from my hopes and dreams
Are getting harder to conceal
And I feel the stabs so deep inside
I'm starting to wonder if they're real
For how can I feel alive and well
If my heart's begun to die
And there's no one here to claim the corpse
Or even give a reason why
So forgive me if my anger's justified
And bubbling up to scorch the surface
Because I suffered this for years
And never questioned if it was worth it
But now I know the answer's no
So I'll say fuck you to those who disagree
And think I'm throwing blankets on the crowd
Just to hide the flaws in me
While they ignore the painful facts
That I have known so well
That I could regurgitate them all
And point out each syllable that fell
But friend, my point in all of this is simple.
Despite the situation being complex.
See, I've grown tired of being righteous
I think in truth, I must stop overlooking sin
So shut your mouth, and clear a path
Give me a little room,
To let this overdue self-destruction,
Finally begin.
Start the countdown, if you please...

The Game We Call A Race

"The Game We Call A Race"
2014

They say the results are in.
And now, there is a different face in place.
Enough votes have signified a win
For the precious victor in the game
They even have the nerve to call a race.
Nothing will change.
A different name on the desk
But the same lack of action in the streets
Thankfully, it will mean an end to the commercials
That follow the same old tired beats
Politician A voted wrongly, every single time.
Politician B is about as crooked as a written dollar sign.
Politician A helps their friends,
Politician B will only do what they can, to provide you with bliss.
Then they show you an image with them and their families.
Standing and smiling in a park,
Maybe underneath some trees
To show you all, they are just like you.
So you will foolishly believe, that when the race is through
They will provide you the quality of life
You're supposed to get after death
But only, now you'll be alive
And won't have to stop your breath.
The promises are grand, when told with tongues of gold.
But campaign accounts were stuffed,
With the kind of riches that you fold.
With no requirement for disclosure,
The ones behind the curtain will never be revealed
Unless there's a case inside the court
That requires the records be unsealed.
But oh well, it doesn't matter.
I have some new device to buy.
And an article to read,
About this celeb who's found another guy.
Or maybe a show that shows realities
That are secretly contrived
Or some kind of public competition show
Where we can vote on who survived
It's all meaningless to me
And in the longest run there'll be
But what on Earth will I ever know?
I only believe what's on TV
So I never notice that in this game we call a race
Both contestants break the rules
They call each other out for sports
As the audience plays the fools
And while they're bearing down the track
We're often too blind to observe
That because of our lack of information, we
Get the officials we deserve
And they will smile and take us to a place
Where grass is a brighter shade of green
But then we'll wake up one day and think aloud,
"This is the same yard I've always seen."
And would you like to know why?
That's because it is.

Needle In The Red

"Needle In The Red"
2014

Acknowledged differences.
Collected and suppressed until they begin to distort.
They become fuel for the emotions.
Moving the needle toward the wrong kind of darkness.
With potent fumes that alter perception for the duration of exposure.
Mouths like motors running.
So busy revving and roaring they don't take time to breathe.
Navigation showing the same old path, with signs, they don't take time to heed.
Carefully selected turns, show others where they should never steer.
Strapped in tightly to their positions,
Adjusting their mirrors to better see their fears.
Reflected.
My, what fools we are.
A few hundred years of tunnel vision, have left the cyclops behind the wheel.
Seeing things in only black or white, while knowing shades of gray are real.
While letting road rage take control, we scream things better left unsaid.
Is there surprise that blood is spilled, when the needle's in the red?
Years from now, our children will wonder who, was really in control of us?
And why people still feel the need to tell a soul, where to sit upon the bus?
Don't they see the demons roaring round the bend,
Or will we be driven off the track?
I guess love and understanding are on the set of keys we lost.
So we just can't unlock the things, we are never getting back.
Sleep well, Eric Garner.
Though the world has failed you twice.
Now we truly know the cost of things,
For which you have paid the dearest price.