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Monthly Archives: April 2012

Decongest Chest

I’m a wordsmith
Twenty percent legend, eighty percent myth
I’ll split you quick with my wicked tongue
Then laugh while you choke as the blood fills your lungs
Something unbelievable
You thought this inconceivable
But here I sit
Continuing to spit
An insane rhyme
That given time
You still won’t understand
Cause this is the fractured language of a fractured man
I insult you to your face
Still you smile not understanding, fucking disgrace
See you forgot this is a turtle race
And I’m bringing up the rear
With a determination that is without fear
At the end of the day I shall have absolution
And you’ll still be trying to find a solution
To your pathetic mundane daily existence
This isn’t just random happenstance
This is an orchestrated attack
Don’t you see, kill me I just come back
Knock me down
All the way to the ground
Stomp and pound
Me down but I just get lost in the sound
Of the symphony of voices screaming
Inside of my head where I’m still dreaming
I can see through
All your facades straight to you
Believe me the vision is not a pretty one
You blot out my sun
For the last time
And at the drop of a dime
I will show you your truest reflection
And destroy you with your darkest recollection
You can try to run and hide for protection
And maybe escape my wrath
But you cannot escape the path
That you laid out before you
And if I know one thing that’s true
Is somewhere when your cold and blue
Someone will spit on your patch of dirt
And in the afterlife you will find nothing but hurt
For you left nothing but judgement in your wake
Hypocritical and fake
Is exactly what you are
So run but you won’t get far
For your bullshit precedes you
And true friends you shall find few
And I’ll just kick back and enjoy the view
With a big smile on my lips
A beer and cigarette at my finger tips
High as a kite
Laughing at the sight
Of your glorious fall from grace
And the priceless look on your stupid fucking face
As you realize you have nothing left of value
So in closing here’s a big fuck you
And with a smile and a wave I bid ado
To the most plastic person ever to waste breath
Have fun in the sweet agony of death
Jake Sellers 12
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Posted by on April 30, 2012 in Poems

 

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Surprise Me, I Beg

Its a fucked up situation
This verbal masturbation
But here I sit, and I spit poetic ammunition
Been looking for love in all the wrong places
Get caught up in the blur of all the right faces
Just give me one more
One single reason for
My breathing
For my seeing
For existing
For me risking
Everything for everyone
For not accepting what’s done is done
For not turning tail and starting to run
For still believing in the antiquated
Notion of love and the faded
Morality of another age
Found on a dank, moldy page
Foolish me to believe in truth
When I have struggled to find some bit of proof
I just want to be shocked
Instead my ideals continue to be mocked
Someone on the other side made a mistake
I don’t belong here where so much is fake
My thoughts are so far from this place
I’m so far behind on this race
When I die wrap me in lace
Bury me with two coins on my face
To pay the ferryman for a ride
Across the river to the other side
Where I may finally find someone with which to confide
My foolish philosophy
My only prayer is for someone to see
Deep down inside of me
Before I fade from memory
Before I am nothing more than a whisper in the breeze
I beg this now on broken knees
Please
Give me something pure and true
I pray I find this before the devil collects his due
Jake Sellers 12
 
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Posted by on April 28, 2012 in Poems

 

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Skinny Jeans

Chubbz’s Part

So this rant needs to happen. Sorry but it does. First and foremost I would like to say that I don’t hate people who wear skinny jeans, I just don’t get what is so awesome about them. It’s like one day some guy woke up and decided that wearing a pair of pants that rams his balls into his stomach was a good idea. Now there is a difference between Skinny jeans and Fitted jeans. Cowboys do not wear skinny jeans. They wear fitted jeans. Hipsters wear Skinny Jeans which is just hilarious. Hipsters are the new version of Hippies except to them it’s all about trends and fashion. Hippies just wanted peace, listen to some good music, and do a little bit of psychedelics. Hipsters just want to play dress up and pretend they give a shit about the Earth all while following the latest fashion statement. What I don’t get is everyone has their own opinion about looks as far as what looks good or not, some people like certain things over other things and yet Hipsters are seen EVERYWHERE. Literally man, you gotta figure that at least 60% don’t even like Dubstep and Skinny Jeans. Yet they still decide to  follow this because it’s easier to have an Identity printed out for you than to find out who you really are. Oh and Dubstep is another thing I absolutely hate. Dubstep used to be about spinning records and being a DJ. You now that weird electronic sound in all types of music? That was what the original dubstep was. Dubstep now a days is really stupid. Not all but some. Somewhere along the line somebody decided to make noises that sound like robots having a rape party. Sorry dude, but that is NOT music, just because you have Drum beats which is the only thing that sounds like an actual instrument in the song doesn’t make you an artist. You’re just some kid who likes to drop ecstasy and rub yourself all over furry walls and stuff. Mind you this doesn’t apply to DJ’s. I’m talking about Dubstep and for some reason Hipsters absolutely love it. Back in the day it was all about psychedelic rock like The Beatles or Jimmi Hendrix. Now it’s all deep bass, drum beats and robot rape sounds. That, again I repeat, IS NOT ART! Art is supposed to heal and be cherished. If you are listening to Robot Rape sounds and it helps you feel better, go jump off a cliff. So I have strayed from the path but it’s coming back round full circle. Skinny Jeans. Stop, just stop. Stop being hipsters unless you really feel that way which I guarantee only like 2 people do. Stop pretending to give a shit about Earth. Stop being coffee shop revolutionary douche bags. Stop eating sushi like it’s a social event. Stop. Just for the love of God stop. Nobody cares if you play the acoustic guitar and likes to eat sushi. Nobody want’s to hear about your epic journey to the nearest Hot Topic to buy a extra small pink shirt and torn skinny jeans. Nobody cares, nobody likes you, you are the dumbest people I know. Also what I hate about these new trends is how dumb they are, Hippies back in the day, a good trend that had some standards and morals. Then it was the 80’s which was just weird(even though I like a lot of 80’s music). Then 90’s which was grunge era, the time when privileged teens could complain about their life. Then it was Emo/Goth. See the progression? It went from peace, love and caring to “WTF is my hair doing” to “Whaaa my mom loves my dad” to “my girlfriend broke up with me, woe is me.” Then from there Hipsters are just a half breed between Emos and Hippies. “Awww mother earth I love your sushi but I am still gonna complain and wear skinny jeans.”  Oh I’m also missing the white boy gangster era. Still I digress, the fact is is this. All trends that I have listed and have not listed are just that. They go away, they aren’t that big of a deal, people grow up and realize what is going on. However, Hipsters make it out to be something it’s not, I’ve seen grown ass men with their walkers in skinny jeans. Yelling at the kids to get off his lawn and go buy the new Skrillex album. Skinny Jeans I am dubbing is the dumbest, half brained, sperm killing-est, man killing-est idea ever. Sorry but it is and if you read this and honestly feel that skinny jeans help you and save your life and that Dubstep heals your soul you need to grow up. Maybe take the balls from your stomach and let them drop again.

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Posted by on April 27, 2012 in Combustible Conversations

 

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Conversing With The Sun

Doctor please could you help me?
Cut me open, split me at the seams.
Cut just to see inside what God has given me.
But I cannot feel angry, no I cannot
Or in hell my soul shall eternally rot.
For this is what my Maker has given me
Be happy, be grateful, why is it so hard to see?
Hard to see why He has done it, the plan slowly unfurls
9 long years just to find the pearl
The shiny little nugget of wisdom and the lessons I learn
However I still feel hurt and angry at Him thus I shall burn.
I remember it as if it were yesterday.
The day I lost my way.
All the memories long lost and forgotten
All the memories I cannot rid myself of because they are too rotten.
The one in particular while under the knife
The one where I am happy but am nothing and nothingness is,
Bliss
The sweet serenity of no pain
The sweet numbness of nothing to lose but nothing to gain
The sweet taste of victory becomes my bane.
Only to go back to a world trapped in a body tied by chains
Broken legs and pain,
Oh God the pain,
And the shame
Shame of feeling the mud inside my veins.
Shame of the addictive way these drugs hit my brain,
Oh God I may be going insane.
Fog covers my vision and there is little that remains,
But the pain and shame,
And yet here I lay in this bed maimed.
You have denied me my Maker more than I can say,
Why take me to where I swim in the sunset just to forsake?
That is correct, my Maker has taken me home,
But then pushed me back into this Hell to roam
Broken and battered,
I lay here tattered.
My face lights as I see the end of the tunnel,
My time here has slowly come to an end after pushing through rubble.
Screaming I have made it out alive,
Let the Angels sing as I crawl out from under the knife.
This is my letter to you God, contradictory rambles.
But just like you made my body, my words are in shambles.
I forgive you every day that I have a moment of clarity,
But please forgive me the days when I curse you using vulgarity.
New roads and paths lay before me,
Roads you may not wish to see
Tear away this fleshy human skin.
Release the beast and free the monster within.
Let the demon roam free to sin.
Oh god here we go again.
The devil inside is laughin.
But I know its not just the demon within,
Cause on my face is a big evil grin.
I love the demon I have become.
I love knowing that I can be numb.
I love hating everyone around me
Anger is what I will always and only be.
Gotta get out of this place before I go crazy.
Please for the love of god somebody save me.
I’m sick of the same old shit everyday.
I need to break the cycle but how and which way?
I need a road to open up with rays of sunlight.
But instead I’m stuck here, oh god it’s so dark I have no sight.
Stuck in this place where darkness reigns.
In the darkness I turn what’s left of me insane.
Mark Sellers 11

My leg

Surgery

 
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Posted by on April 26, 2012 in Poems

 

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Mortification of the Flesh

Magic the Gathering

The darkness spread across her room as she slowly wakes from a nightmare she can remember vividly. However what she doesn’t know is her nightmare is about to become real. The darkness turns into creeping veins spreading across the room til they reach her bed. The shadow veins rope around her and slowly drag her into the abyss of her mind. There inside the darkest reaches of her head is a demon. A monster that lives and thrives off of the pain and suffering of human beings. One that is very sadomasochistic by nature. A monster that has no name and no gender, a monster that is the embodiment of humanities sick twisted desires. A monster that was born out of pure necessity, one that could take on all the things us humans don’t want. It’s one true goal was to push human beings to the point of rape, murder and torture. To twist and contort everything we are. It waited in the shadow til the time was right to push people over the edge, and if they disobeyed then he took them to the far reaches of the mind, the part where everyone stuffs things and never want’s to clean it out. Where your worst nightmares become your best friend as they slowly cut you to pieces only to sew you back together again and start over. This is what people meant by Hell, and this thing is the Devil. She slowly opens her eyes to see herself on an operating table in a dank, dark, concrete hole. It’s shape shifts and forms continuously constantly changing into what you hate and fear the most along with your own demented desires. It’s voice is very strange constantly changing pitches and tones. “You were supposed to be one of my star pupils. You want to torture and kill as much as the next deranged psychopath I’ve twisted and yet you defy me. This is Hell and I am The Devil. Because you have disobeyed my will and commands my unholy judgement has turned to face you.” The world does not miss this woman. She was never born. She no longer exists on this plane of reality. She is a prisoner inside her own personal slice of Hell. All the while the Devil has claimed another soul, another toy for his sick desires. Another human to turn and twist til she enjoys it all just as much as him. Only in this story she remains shackled to that dark, dank, concrete hole. She may enjoy it, and she may even start to like it, but in the end she remains just a nonexistent entity. Welcome to The Mortification of the Flesh.

 
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Posted by on April 25, 2012 in Chubbz's Brain

 

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Spring Air

I stumble through the wreckage of a memory
Lost in thought and in everything I see
A full moon in the clear night sky
A young adolescent mind with a burning question why
Searching high and low for the answer to it all
Questioning everything from God to Adam’s fall
All the while the lilac in bloom set my heart at ease
Never knew it often but in spring my heart found peace
Dead limbs give way to new life and young romance
In the night air amidst automatic sprinklers we dance
The moon reflects off of the dark surface of the lake
We strip nude and swim for there are no rules but those we make
The herb burns without judgement and smoke flows to my chest
I find calm in this high and forget all the rest
The night opens up to me and darkness becomes my companion
Driving all night with my family up and down the canyon
Finding a river with my brother that captivates us for the better part of an hour
Finding joy in the simple smell of a flower
Nights spent in tears over immature thoughts sprouted from an immature mind
Learning how wrong I was all in good time
Its nights like this when I believe in you
Staring at the stars I think how could it not be true
How could God not be there and care
But then I start to question how could he dare
Take so much and give so little
So I set about the task once again of cracking this riddle
Found nothing but more questions and not a single answer
Start to believe that faith is like a cancer
It will take all from you and leave you hollow and dead
A rage builds inside of my young mind and I see red
Then I find heroin, my truest love to date
On a scale of one through ten it was to high to rate
Everything that hurts, everything that burns
Erased in a moment and the world ceases to turn
Numbness, oh sweet calming numbness overtakes me
It becomes my reason for everywhere I go and everything I see
I chase the night and the high
I cheat, steal and lie
Anything just to get by till tomorrow
Anything just to erase all the pain and sorrow
Slowly killing everything inside
With every fix, with every ride
Feeling lost in those moments of calming numb
Not knowing who I am or from where I have come
Lost
So very, very lost
I try to find myself still
But I must confess with a whiff of spring air I feel
I may never find that innocent child again
He has been murdered ever so quietly and softly by the sin
Of this broken man who remains
So clear away the dirt and blood stains
Dig deep and breathe heavy
And learn to accept
I will never again be me
Jake Sellers 12
 
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Posted by on April 25, 2012 in Poems

 

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Feeling A Burning Sensation?

Here is the new blog, lets have fun and take this to a whole new level.

 
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Posted by on April 25, 2012 in Burned.

 

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