"all existence is completely absurd, but that's nice" I guess that makes me a philosopher, or maybe not, it's still kind of a great little proverb/motto or whatever tou call these things in english, ghâsh vobiscum, all of you...
I can't be a braindead zombie
smiling happily
dancing automatic
fucking randomly
every fucking thing
that comes my way
I am something more, I am someone less
something your pathetic plastic pills
cannot posses
I am my own demon lord
the axe and the sword
the blood on the pretty flowers
birds are singing
burning churchbells ringing
it is time
oh, clown of pain
move your crooked feet
to where the roads meet
keep moving
oh, cursed pilgrim
march on, towards
probably nothing at all
keep moving
no sense
no goal
no god
keep moving
under the moon I stare
not being aware
of a car crashing my way
to my imminent death I calmly reply
yeah, so what
you expect Hell to be hot?
a heart to be cold?
another tragic story to be told?
are you entertained?
I smile as the chains of existence
fall to the ground enriching
the city streets with music
it never heard before
I am dead, I am something more
my wings unfold
as I throw myself
into the abyss
of sorrow, of tomorrow
of the thrill of the next circus show
that must
go on
walk on
moving on
in biomechanical splendor
never give up, never surrender
your weak minds to the comfort
of a selfmade deathbed
this tale of absurdity
is yours to tell
you are the architects
of Heaven and Hell
or maybe not
like everything else
you will never know
love and all that shit
are secrets reserved
for the eternally damned
so keep fucking, killing, and building empty places
houses of worship
of your own lack of faith
in yourself
I am my own god
but I met someone
who made me even more of an atheist
but she's nice
I recently swam through a sea of alcohol
that was nice
I recently spent a few centuries
in a boiling brew of fear
that was nice
I have nothing left
that's nice
I wonder what muse will burn me next
I don't know what will happen
but it will most certainly
be nice
yes, very nice
Poetry by Michael Dyst
Read 802 times
Written on 2008-04-06 at 20:36
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the title of this poem was tortured to the sound of happy music
I can't be a braindead zombie
smiling happily
dancing automatic
fucking randomly
every fucking thing
that comes my way
I am something more, I am someone less
something your pathetic plastic pills
cannot posses
I am my own demon lord
the axe and the sword
the blood on the pretty flowers
birds are singing
burning churchbells ringing
it is time
oh, clown of pain
move your crooked feet
to where the roads meet
keep moving
oh, cursed pilgrim
march on, towards
probably nothing at all
keep moving
no sense
no goal
no god
keep moving
under the moon I stare
not being aware
of a car crashing my way
to my imminent death I calmly reply
yeah, so what
you expect Hell to be hot?
a heart to be cold?
another tragic story to be told?
are you entertained?
I smile as the chains of existence
fall to the ground enriching
the city streets with music
it never heard before
I am dead, I am something more
my wings unfold
as I throw myself
into the abyss
of sorrow, of tomorrow
of the thrill of the next circus show
that must
go on
walk on
moving on
in biomechanical splendor
never give up, never surrender
your weak minds to the comfort
of a selfmade deathbed
this tale of absurdity
is yours to tell
you are the architects
of Heaven and Hell
or maybe not
like everything else
you will never know
love and all that shit
are secrets reserved
for the eternally damned
so keep fucking, killing, and building empty places
houses of worship
of your own lack of faith
in yourself
I am my own god
but I met someone
who made me even more of an atheist
but she's nice
I recently swam through a sea of alcohol
that was nice
I recently spent a few centuries
in a boiling brew of fear
that was nice
I have nothing left
that's nice
I wonder what muse will burn me next
I don't know what will happen
but it will most certainly
be nice
yes, very nice
Poetry by Michael Dyst
Read 802 times
Written on 2008-04-06 at 20:36
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
