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Monthly Archives: November 2012

Fly on the wall

“Fly On The Wall”

The other night
I had a dream
There was a world full of kings and queens
But it was cold
Dark as the night
We were the fire on the moonlit skies

We weren’t divided
We were the same
And we were free
But we all wore chains
We couldn’t see it
But we created
A place between truth and overrated

If I could just see it all
Just like a fly on the wall
Would I be able to accept what I can’t control?
And would I share what I saw?
Or just sit back and ignore
Like nothing never happened,
I haven’t seen you before?

I’m on the run from a thief
I let into my head
I know, I hold the keys, so don’t be scared
When I turn and shout:

I don’t think I need you anymore
Take your words, and your lies and just beat it!
I don’t think I need you anymore
Take the hurt and the pain, I don’t need it!

I wanna live, I wanna be the change
We can all be kings and queens
If we can just learn to believe
If we can just learn to believe

We had a plan to build a wall
A great divide that would never fall
To separate us
From all the pain
And keep our skeletons locked away

And brick by brick
We built it so thick
That it blacked out the sky and all the sunlight
And one by one
We all became numb
We were making the bullets to a broken gun

If I could just see it all
Just like a fly on the wall
Would I be able to accept what I can’t control?
And would I share what I saw?
Or just sit back and ignore
Like nothing never happened
And I haven’t seen you before?

I’m on the run from a thief
I let into my head
I know, I hold the keys, so don’t be scared
When I turn and shout:

I don’t think I need you anymore
Take your words, and your lies and just beat it!
I don’t think I need you anymore
Take the hurt and the pain, I don’t need it

I wanna live, I wanna be the change
We can all be kings and queens
If we can just learn to believe
If we can just learn to believe

I don’t think I need you anymore
Take your words, and your lies and just beat it!
I don’t think I need you anymore
Take the hurt and the pain, I don’t need it!

I wanna live, I wanna be the change
We can all be kings and queens
If we can just learn to believe
If we can just learn to believe…

 -Thousand Foot Krutch

 
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Posted by on November 21, 2012 in Combustible Conversations

 

A Killer And His Prey

The killer stalks through the shadows holding his weapons of death and destruction. His tools of blank spots in space and time as it seems. His tools of disintegration and freedom. One being a knife and one being a syringe. The prey sits there seemingly unaware of the things about to happen here tonight. The killer lifts his weapons ready to strike the prey. This was once a person. This was once an ideal wrapped around negativity and broken emotions. This was once a blanket of guilt and shame suffocating the innocent. This was everything that needed to be separated but never was. This was the last of the worthy and the beginning of the worthless. This is the causalities from the war of numb. This is the shattered world torn asunder by the beating of broken hearts that turns into a cacophony of screams from the streets of mud and snow. This is the stock of broken body parts God made us with cause he ran out of intact pieces. This is the ruins of a flawed world hanging on by just the idea that flawed may be the way to live. This is for the drama suckers and the end of living inside a world filled with no ending and no direction. The killer strikes and lashes out, slipping his knife in through the ribs and the syringe into the neck. The prey screams an earth shattering sound which tears through existence and brings forth foul weather. Grey clouds completely take over the sky forcing it to bleed it’s sweet nectar. The nectar falls fast and hard promising to drown out all existence. However the world is slowly just moving forward, never stopping and pushing time into our veins like a slow poison bringing us closer to the tombstone. The master of this temple is broken, he invented the killer so he might survive. So he might live and never fall or stumble. To never lose track of that which is to come. The killer goes about his work swiftly and silently. Falling onto his prey with lethal precision and surgical extraction leaving nothing but bloody blank holes in everything. In order to live, in order to go on all the master needs is the assassination of another memory.

 
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Posted by on November 21, 2012 in Chubbz's Brain

 

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River Dreams Pt.2

It is human nature…
to question our nature.
It is human emotion…
that has destroyed all emotion.
It therefore absolutely must be stated…
that our ability to think,
is what shall destroy us.
Or rather perhaps…
our ability to hate…
to murder…
to take…
take,
and fucking take…
that shall destroy us.
We collect trophies of the lost,
keeping them proudly displayed,
upon each of our sleeves.
What is it that drives us…
drives us to war?
What is it that takes us…
takes us to war?
Looking inward…
then outward…
then up…
then down…
finding little more than more questions.
For every question answered…
is but another found.
They keep piling,
and all the while the war machines,
they keep firing.
We are drowning in them,
answering and finding,
questions…
so very many questions.
More need to turn inward.
Remove the physical,
remove borders,
remove nations,
remove God,
remove yourself…
and see the river.
Watch it flow eternal…
watch it…
dance.
Feel the pain…
feel the loss…
but know love…
know happiness…
know yourself.
Find the center…
expand it…
till yours and mine…
collide.
Let us grow outward…
together…
please…
let us end this…
war…
together.
Jake Sellers 12
 
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Posted by on November 20, 2012 in Poems

 

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River Dreams

The smell…
has intoxicated me.
The smile…
has crushed me.
The draw…
the pull.
Blood…
life.
Blood…
death.
You’re bleeding…
he takes two steps and falls.
Fear…
blinds me.
Hate…
binds me.
Sweating…
screaming…
dreaming…
trailing…
caught up…
caught up in the current.
No way to fight…
no way to escape.
No way out…
no way down.
Free…
flee…
flee…
before the blood…
can hit the ground…
flee.
Jake Sellers 12
 
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Posted by on November 17, 2012 in Poems

 

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“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” 
Ernest Hemingway

 
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Posted by on November 15, 2012 in Combustible Conversations

 

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Planted in Stone

I am laying down and giving in,
to the mother of invention.
I have killed every motive,
as well as every intention.
I have tried so very hard,
for so very long.
I have grown weak,
and then grown strong.
I wish I could do this,
I wish I could save you.
But not much do I know,
but what I know is true.
I can’t lay down here,
and wait for you to awake.
I can’t watch you intently,
awaiting for something to break.
Just watch the war,
as it wages within.
Trying to reach through,
time and time again.
I cannot watch it destroy you,
cannot stand the pain.
Written plainly on your face,
watching your soul slowly drain.
Watching you weaken under them,
falling to the ground.
Watching you get lost,
caught up in the sound.
I have tried before,
will not try anymore.
For only you, the missing pieces,
may restore.
Goodbye,
when next we meet,
may you have rock,
beneath your feet.
Jake Sellers 12
 
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Posted by on November 12, 2012 in Poems

 

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Natural Grip

I’m a dying whisper,
a sad twist of fate.
I’m a soothing anger,
of mellow hate.
Open your heart,
let me in.
Open your mind,
please allow me to begin.
I’m a little off,
some say insane.
I’m slightly soft,
bringing chilling pain.
I am the fruits,
of their labor.
Every false prophet,
every real neighbor.
They have created in me,
a will to survive.
Little did they know,
I would find myself alive.
Stronger,
better than ever before.
Braver,
anger roiling in my core.
I have come,
I SCREAM TO THE SKY!
I tore a hole through it,
AND HAVE LOOKED GOD RIGHT IN THE EYE!
So do your worst,
do your best.
Beat me down,
and put me to the test.
But know this,
know one thing.
I have come,
WITH A WICKED STING!
Sent here to help,
help stoke the fire.
So give in,
give in to desire.
Do what you will,
what you will to each other.
Strike him down,
your own Goddamned brother.
Try to find it,
a little respect.
Each thrust only tightens,
THE NOOSE AROUND YOUR NECK!
Take her,
bring her to the ground.
But remember this,
for hearing it will be the last sound.
With primal scream,
and fluid grace.
I shall remove,
YOUR FUCKING FACE!
Expose you,
for what you really are.
A demon,
touched by the wish of a star.
A magical mask,
a villainous trick.
A broken neck,
and an exposed logic.
So before you go,
removing the head of a hydra.
Maybe think a bit,
and don’t go fucking with karma.
Jake Sellers 12
 
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Posted by on November 5, 2012 in Poems

 

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