Armageddon of the Heart

The sky is falling again,

Pouring down on me,

Nothing but charcoals and gray,

No true color to see.

And I want to help her,

I really do.

But how can I help her,

If she won’t allow me to?

The earth’s melting again,

Liquefying beneath my feet,

Drawing me into her depths,

Into Hell’s all-consuming heat.

And I want to help her,

I really do.

But how can I help her,

If she doesn’t want me to?

The ocean’s receding again,

Vanishing to God-knows-where,

Selfishly denying her charges of life,

As if she simply doesn’t care!

And I want to help her,

I really do!

But how can I help her,

If no one wants me to?

The night is crying again,

Her tears falling from the heavens,

Stars of sorrow dance across the darkness,

And vanish in attempts to hide her sins.

And I want to help her,

I really do,

But how can I help her,

If even I no longer want to?

The flowers are dying again,

Withering away to nothing.

Lack of their sun’s love has led them to this,

And she thinks without them there will be nothing.

And I want to save her.

I really do.

But I cannot save her,

For I simply won’t do.

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Puppet Master

“I’ll do what you say, if only you’ll stay,

I’ll do what you say, if you won’t leave me today.”

So the Puppet Master twirls their ropes,

She spins,

She dives,

She drinks,

She chokes.

And the Puppet Master weaves their lies,

she reaches for the earth,

and falls to the sky.

The Puppet Master dictates her demise,

she cries inside,

and hopes she dies.

Then the Puppet Master yanks their threads,

She leaps,

She flies,

She swings,

She cries.

“Do what we say and maybe we’ll stay.

Do what we say, and we won’t leave you today.”

So the Puppet Master makes her dance,

around and around,

she is losing her stance.

And the Puppet Master sings her song,

a complicated rhythm that isn’t her own.

The Puppet Master works her to the bone.

Her wood; it cracks.

Her bones; they snap.

“They will not stay,”

I cry,

I say,

“They will leave you, they’ll sway!”

But the Puppet Master loves her silly,

she’s drunk on false promises,

the fucking ninny.

The Puppet Master fills her cup,

the one that was emptied,

by her own bad luck.

And the Puppet Master swings her about,

her body shadowed,

on a screen concealing her doubt.

Oh, the Puppet Master strings her along,

”We’ll stay, we’ll stay,

we will not sway,”

“We’ll stay, we’ll stay,

we won’t leave you today.”

She is not her own person,

a victim of life,

A neighbor, a daughter,

a aunt, and a wife,

And she does what they say, but they do not stay.

She does what they say,

BUT THEY LEAVE HER TODAY.

We Are All France

We are all France

But never all Lebanon or Syria or Iraq

We are all France

But why?

Cause our skin isn’t brown

Cause our religion isn’t Islam

Cause our society is western

We are all France

Cause we share the same white skin

Cause we share the same western ideology

Cause we share the same status as a first world country

We are all France

Never the others

We are all France

 

This is based off of a tweet I saw on Tumblr.

The Deal

Walking along a road one night,

I saw a tavern doused in moonlight.

Oh it was such a terrible sight,

Oh it was such a fortunate sight.

A woman pale and richly dressed,

With rings on her fingers and an air to impress,

Looked at me with red rimmed eyes:

She said… “Make a deal with the devil.

Yeah, sell him your soul.

You can even ask for silver or gold.

You can ask for success, you can ask for fame.

Really, you can ask for any damn thing.”

In the center of the crossroad, I stood still,

And I felt the frostiest chill.

Oh it was such a terrible feel,

Oh it was such a fortunate feel.

A man in black with flaxen hair,

Had a twinkle in his eyes and had no cares,

Looked at me with red rimmed eyes:

He said… “Make a deal with the devil.

Yeah, sell him your soul.

You can even ask for love, mi amour.

You can ask for revenge, you can ask for power.

Really you can ask for any damn thing.”

At the door of the tavern I noted to my surprise,

A large horde of people, with seemingly no ties.

Oh it was such a terrible group,

Oh it was such a fortunate group.

People smiling and hosting every countenance,

Filled the tavern with an air of regret.

They looked at me with red rimmed eyes:

They said… “Make a deal with the devil,

Yeah, sell him your soul.

You can even ask for riches untold.

You can ask for eternal life or a certain someone’s death.

Really you can ask for any damn thing.”

Behind the bar stood the man,

He handed me a contract, a pen, and a can.

Oh it was such a terrible sight,

Oh it was such a fortunate sight.

At the bottom of the page, hot to the touch,

I signed my name, and watched as the scarlet ink bled,

I looked up with red rimmed eyes.

I made a deal with the devil,

Yeah, I sold him my soul.

And you can bet your ass I asked for silver and gold.

I asked for success, I asked for fame.

But what I got was pain,

All I got was pain.