Dream (Poetry)

I had a dream;
A vision of our lives
Entwined around each other,
Like a sick knot.
The paths taken are gone,
Tied with other serpents
And etched into a corpse-stone.
What follows is difficult,
As impossible as sunrise at night,
Or moonrise at day.
I had a dream;
I forgot about you.

Scarred Shit-face (Poetry)

So far so good little gem:
Your back ain't broken,
Legs are alive, and reason remains.
But, watch what happens
With the slip of a tongue,
When no-body realises that
Bad-words have been spoken.
So, little gem, open your wound,
Pour the blood into her mouth,
And get left alone with a relic:
Your scarred shit-face.

There Are No More Anthems (Poetry)

I walk a divided plane,
A small, insignificant singularity
Split between east and west
By a bastard and his brain,
Where efforts for love, hate, and reason,
Are all but drowned in the bleakest rain.
The children used to sing anthems,
Hymns, and songs of life.
But innocence is now broken along the divide,
Scatterd down with the death sticks,
And the only sound is an assurance
That there will be no more singing
And no more anthems.

Twitch, Twitch, Bang! (Poetry)

Twitch, twitch, bang!
Fuck falling, I'm on the deck,
Writhing and spitting,
Like a diseased worm.

Twitch, twitch, bang!
Sugar the sweat,
It tastes too much like acid.
As if it were venom.

Twitch, twitch, bang!
Sugary sickness is swirling,
It goes round, and round,
And round. I'm in a whirlpool.

Twitch, twitch, bang!
Current control please!
Twitch, twitch, twitch,
Twitch, twitch, BANG!

Fuck America! (Essay)

I've uploaded this as a word file because the formatting is quite difficult to get onto Blogger. This is a three part critique of the United States of America. I hope you enjoy it.

Download link: http://www.filefactory.com/file/ah588d9/n/Fuck_America_doc

Blood Boiled Bastard (Poetry)

I'm a blood boiled bastard,
Broken and beaten by ambition.
Rotten to my fucking core.
The night monster is in me,
Writhing for want of a curse
To spit with venomous poise
At an enemy that he will never touch.
For what? To live a life
Which is not worth living
Then drown in the venomous bile
Knowing full well that it is mine,
And mine alone.