Concrete veins

The concrete highways and byways
Blood of our city
Lax polymers
Cross linked
We celebrate our hardend humanity

I break off
And flow through its veins
Traveling through
The dark and strange

A million hearts
Beating out
Discordant songs
Vibrate through
These concrete veins
I travel on

Through city streets
Narrowed plaque
Of monuments
Built on broken backs
Of the heaving mass
Just born for bone
Adding layers
To coral thrones

In this fluid
Speeding through
Our concrete veins
Always push me
Back to you

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We never noticed the apocalypse

The apocalypse has already begun,

We just have yet to notice it

The honorable lay on the verge of extinction

And those that remain are hunted as game

 

Painted smiles hide the true faces behind the outward gaze

Painted symbols hide entire countries of hungry jackals

Behind ideas noble only in name

 

An Orwellian nightmare of doublespeak and unpeople

Free to be slave to any permitted desires

Peacefully destroying everything beyond our walls

As we celebrate murderers for keeping us safe

Our leaders pay homage to themselves and their criminal friends

Great monuments reach towards the sky

As symbols of ideas noble only in name

 

Resources plundered our lands stripped of life

Feeding insatiable machines and systems

That we rely on to live

So we will give and give and give

Until one day they just break

Collapsing under their own sickening weight

 

Oh yes my friend,

The apocalypse has begun quite a while ago

When we were holding signs predicting how it’d begin

We just never noticed it anymore then than we do now

For it came with a whimper and we expected a howl

 

 

(i found the burning earth in a google search and dont want to straight steal it- I found a link to the guy who made it bobtheowl)

Wednesday, October 10th, 2017

Nothing. There is not a single thing that I want to do. No scratch that, there are plenty of things I want to do but i kind of just stare out into space instead of doing anything. I want to write but can’t think of a single to say so i stare. Its almost like im not here. Dead, i’m fucking dead inside. I think life won and crushed me. Just motions, robotic motions until one day it’s all over. It’s so fucking sad. I mean I’ve been at least mildly depressed since I was 14 but this now, fuck. I don’t even know if I have emotions; i sit in my office 5 days a week, 9-5 and stare.

How’d it get to this? I think the condition of my physical body contributes to a large degree. Constant pain makes everything and i mean everything so much worse than it is. example: waking up in the morning sucks. waking up in the morning with half of your joints subluxated sucks much more. So mornings are horrible and painful and takes about 45 minutes until I can start getting my shit together, argue with my son about school and then go sit in my specially ordered $500 chair and spend the following 8 hours putting my knees and hips back into place. Then I go home which by then i’m so drained (being in constant pain takes a lot of fucking energy, try it) that all i want to do is rip off the clown clothes i wear to work and do or whatever it is that makes me feel slightly better (things that make me feel better vary- sometimes lay down, others well, lay down more, sometimes drink, sometimes things i wont mention though this really the equivalent just not specific). Then argue with my son about going to bed and fuck this, i’m done.

Music Migration – New location – Same Material

About “You’re Ugly” a shitty recording and a tad out of sync in a few places but I think it’s funny. And obviously I’m not serious, well it’s pretty true in that that’s the way the world works

 

 

Perpetual Monday

Here it is again, the worst day of the week, Monday. The weekends go so fast that it always seems like its Monday; perpetual Monday. The days of the week are as follows:
Monday
Monday
Monday
Monday
Saturday Eve
Saturday
Monday Eve
It’s just always here, it’s always fucking Monday


Here it is
its Monday again
The weekends done and
work begins

A paper shuffle
is the life
that we’re told is really nice

Khakis, Prozac, scotch, fast-food
to keep us all a bit subdued

Please don’t think
you’re not trained for that
There’s systems in place
Do your job just get fat

Just sleep my friend
as gentle babes
Little worker bees
For kings as slaves

2 days rest
To work on endless chores
As stressed out minds
Can’t dream of more

Monday comes here round again
And just like that
The weekends done
and work begins


Monday is the furthest point from the weekend, which, as stated above, is really not restful or all that relaxing at all. The only reason why weekends are better is that the asshole your answering to is yourself. So really, except for maybe a few hours between both Friday night and Saturday in which you can actually go out with your (enter status of your significant other here), truly be free and enjoy the company of each other it’s all horrible.

Its sad that I view my existence like that. Don’t get me wrong, i love my wife and son and wouldn’t trade them for anything but it’s hard to come to terms with the fact that this is all there is. Work, aging, failing health and death after years and years of pain. (see the tab “ehlers danlos” for explanation of health and pain).

I think im going to end it here for now.

.

Nothing burns like jesus

Nothing burns like Jesus
Spread your legs wide open just to please him                                                                    –
You’re here to hold the life you have inside a victim of his reason  
                                        –
Wage a war inside your soul
be a good boy now and do as told
Stand and order, you just salute
For one more bite of this bitter fruit      
                  –
Nothing burns like Jesus
Whip marks across your back
From the tongue of just society
And Jesus, well, he just laughs       
                    –
We fell in line and took his name
Ate the flesh from off his body basking in our shame         
                                                   
Burn down your life and kill the self
proudly kill your pride
Like gluttons drank of his blood
Till gladly we would die          
                                 –
Nothing burns like Jesus
Son of a Madonna, dirty virgin whore
Pulls dinner from her pocket
For entertainment starts a war          
                      –
Nothing burns like Jesus
This shepherd for the lost
We’ll gladly kill our neighbors
For a hoax hung from a cross

—-please do not threaten to kill us for writing this as that would only prove the point—–

Written by: Ann Marie Baradi & John Saraceno

Death Beneath The Garden

Burning down
Everything around we’re just burning down
Death beneath the garden

I had a dream
Built upon the graves
Filled with ashes of past days
Death beneath the garden

Everything has been touched
Yet it is just not enough
Blood runs cold and life runs rough
Fucking death beneath the garden

Standing there we serene
The answer to and just a dream
But below emotions blow
Quickly change from hot to cold

Trying to be the things we’re not
I had a thought
We are the death beneath the garden