your gods versus mine.

your gods versus mine.

your gods are weak and dying inside, but mine are 
       strong and growing around. 
yours allow ignorance while mine open minds. 
yours demand faith, mine suggest i reject it. 
you seek salvation, i just need a guide. 
yours turn you a disciple of false idols, pimping your 
       prayers, forcing you to pray to him, mine lets me 
       just speak to it. 
yours, omniscient, doused under the scent of salty 
       tears, wars, and blood and blood and blood. 
and your gods are burning while mine is just being, 
       being born and reborn with each breath. 
yours exist in sacred texts, mine in the whisper of the 
       wind, eternal.


the pains of a universe unraveling.

the pains of a universe unraveling.

mistaken for an island,
trying to find security
in how lonely and
empty everything feels. things then repeat

false instances for one, of two hearts fading apart.

they all repeat the empty promises
of youth and beauty, but where lies truth-
in hades rotting?

the universe aching to be loved.

aching to be, loved by anyone.


shooting at idols.

shooting at idols.

strength comes not from a show of might,
but from the realization
that day and night are a cycle without end.

power comes not from the barrel of a gun,
but from a total rejection
of what’s been assembled as reality for us.

freedom comes not from a violent revolution,
but from an understanding
of the universe as one infinite space.

infinite space.


oh world (if we don’t try).

oh world (if we don’t try).

i am a disciple of marx.
i was a disciple of marx.
oh my brothers, i have lost my religion.
oh my sisters, my brothers have betrayed the revolution.
oh my brothers, do you really believe that your violence will save us?
oh my sisters, our mothers, our fathers, the whole world is conspiring.
i am no longer a disciple of any discipline, and now am lost.
oh my brothers, my sisters, my friends, my people, i am solitary in this desert in marley’s concrete jungle.
oh my fellow artists, my heart grows weak, becomes filled with contempt.
oh people, this is only my attempt at trying, at trying to reach, at trying to reach out- for humanity to reach out towards everyone.
oh people, i am so ready to love, love the world and not the mess it’s in.
oh my brothers, you have lost the war with this world.
now, you truly believe you are of this world.
i am of all the worlds, using all the words- those unseen and those unheard.
trying so hard to relate to humans, but skin has the feel of alien.
this is just a game that you are all playing, but i am living my life, not playing mine because i am not afraid of being hurt and losing.
people, we are on our own.
the only thing we have is each other, but with the way we treat each other, so why even bother?
oh humanity, love is all you need, love is all we have, and not, more ammunition to shoot off your mouth.
the silence of my heart is what keeps me going, what keeps my soul screaming.
oh my brothers, love your brothers, my sisters, love each other, oh fathers, mothers, this world is losing us.
we are letting all true feelings fade away.
the revolution is a commodity that brings safety.
as long as we pretend to be fighting, we will never create.
are we even trying to see positive results anymore?
oh, i really thought people cared.
people, i am losing my religion, and i do not want to lose my faith in humanity.
oh my people, where will we be if we help destroy ourselves?
i wear my tears on my sleeve.
oh people, i am so lost.
we search for justice and for love from the feelings around but never from within, but my heart belongs to me.
revolution is a constant battle towards constant progress, and not something that ends after the fighting’s done and the masters replaced.
oh my brothers, and sisters are you against oppression or against being oppressed?
will you just turn around and do the same, operate with the same destructive hate, you claim to be against?
i am not an angel, a devil, or a rebel, i am plain simple, acting angry does not make one a revolutionary.
the way communists explain their idea sounds nice, but the chinese and cubans place dissidents in prisons like america is doing to mumia.
if you want to kill each other you’re already doing it, you are just being slow about it, you don’t need a revolution for that.
communism is not the people’s solution, just middle class brats like me that felt guilty, like che and lenin- that thought they needed to save everybody, but we’re not gods or superhumans.
i mean if there even is a god, it has already proven itself to be imperfect thus the reason for us.
we’re just beings that need to try to be, stop creating ideologies, allz one so why divide it, son?
as humans what gives us the right to kill one person, what stops us from just killing everyone- to me it is clear that humans are not the best judges of value.
you can’t create anything with destruction, just end up with a lot of scattered little pieces and confusion.
oh people, today, if there is a revolution, it will be evil because it is hateful and vengeful, try one based on love, and all the bombs and guns will just seem dumb.
my revolution is never ending and starts inside everyone.
my revolution wants to change things that we do just because that’s the way they’ve always been done.
my revolution just wants people to try, to try and that will be good enough.
if the whole world just tries, to be human, oh my people, just try to be people, realizing that we’ll never be perfect, but can never stop trying.


individual dreams and planets.

individual dreams and planets.

in an age of sleep deprivation and depression,
night assimilates with dreams,
and retaliates against hopes never aspired.

and angels hide in their exclusive universe,
pretending not to be searching
while wishing on stars for peace,

despite the distance.

cling to dreams:

one shouldn’t speak in tongues, no one uses anymore.




wakes up swimming in sweat, stares out the window, to
see the moon die.
his soul, slowly, decaying in bed.
happy murder tales, and a can full of sinners.
runs into a room through a broken door, imagined.
sees his dead body on the floor, and a cross burns on
his forehead.
seeing his heart turn to ashes.
running into psychotic memories, the preacher is still
talking, but his ears
are falling down to the floor. hears a knock at
the door.
closed eyes and dry lips, dreams aren’t safe.
keeps on running through a desert, who will
save him in the dark?
the pope in south america laughing while
citizens peek through a fence?
murder victims screaming loud, can hear them
burning in the air.
bloody lovers kissing mud. dancing killers
singing psalms.
praying rapists in the church, heartbeat is so
his eyes are leading him.
feels it all still decaying, and who will help him
swimming around tombstones, little laughing
children sleeping in coffins.
mother mary, kissing the pope, making love to her god
in an empty sky,
and the monk is burning snow, lost in his naked
the pope picks up his rifle and shoots the buddhist
opens his eyes and still is blind, travels west.
journey past into her eyes to see the blue full pupil,
filled with broken
pieces of a picture.
lifeless ashtrays remember stories of a smoker
that they’ve killed.
cancer spreads all over.
his eyes are lying. his eyes are lying.
a dream within a dream is too gorgeous, then, why
he’s rolling on the ground, sees a man come from the
realizes god must be murdered. spits some blood for
god to see.
the man glows floating from light, follow the light!
god starts to laugh until the laugh gets louder and
louder and harsher and harsher
with the intensity of murder.
“no salvation! no forgiveness for you son!” speaks a
realizes this man cannot be god because god is
sleeping, so then this must be a nightmare
traveling through.
the passenger of this dream picks up a book with a
bunch of dirty words, and throws it
at the holy spirit.
killing the holy spirit,
“eat your bible holy bastard!”
screams under the new moon.
now again he’s in his room, “save yourself!” is written
with blood on the walls.