Click here for more listening options.
i could once sing through
the backbone of constant
backbeat sanctuaries
i could once hear crimes of passion
coming through the airwaves
no one takes anything seriously
not anymore
i remember when murder was art
even that has been commercialized
what a pity
what a shame
no more festivities
& no more rain
i used to dream
of endless words
now i have to scrape the
mirage of innocence
& the temple of the devil himself
in order to achieve miracles
what a sellout
i’d like to live in the world
that the others have left behind
back there in the breeze
in the inferno
the solitary confinements
the luxury of vision
night trance
songs for dance
the romance
in cool taverns
just sipping my drink
burning my thoughts
living the words
the insanity absurd
the tender fleeting memories
erased by new endeavors
pissing on the trees
like some wild animal
no worries
not a care in the world
just a roasted empire
a burning flag
spoilt nerves
spent youth
with these thoughts
i ponder and abuse
with these words i write
i could forget by morning
because karma would
be on my side
grace would lounge
on my couch
no one could touch
my soft sick twisted
morbid mind
no one
could ruin my day
with channel five
at ten o’ clock
i could really dig that
maybe i’ll get
to sleep in
peace tonight
sweet mother of god
what a dream
return from the shady cities
granted, the frozen figures
of hysteria are breathing
mad raven celluloid stifled
kodak moments
i alone am amazed
with the turn of events
my hands are made of lead
but i can reach eternity
my head is filled with
liquid equinox
phosphorus tubes
entering into my veins
spreading false hope
for the shattered remains
of dignity
of solitude
of venom
of pulchritude
cutaneous metamorphosis
boosts the artistic mural
the natives are pleased
with the colors chosen
i have seen god
i have witnessed acts of hatred
i have written in the echoes of laughter
i have read in the spring without light
i have offered others my restless life
i have attempted to sing for the angels
in hope that they would not cast me from
the sacred city of greece
i am capable of devoted attention
yet, my loyalty only goes so far
i can not pretend to be one of them
i am human
i am mortal
i am afraid
let all who have been in the ritualistic fortress
dine with the spirits
laugh with the gods
drink with the deities
& love with the entities
for this is poetry
& poets are
the bitter remains
of god himself
-1st spoken word track ever created (1998)
