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Addiction Goliath Futility Tamed

The blood of the wasp lies heavy upon your hands,
Inside your skull lies as vast a land as of that lies beyond your flesh.
Our bodies, as projections of our deepest desires,
Are tied to the mast, cast upon funeral pyres.
All For the crime of no longer knowing what we want.

The blood of the wasp lies heavy upon your hands,
It's too late now for any consolidations, for any plans of grandeur.
Welcome to the city. Welcome to the hive.
Bless the wasp, your pity; it's all that keeps his dreams alive.

The blood of the wasp lies heavy on your hands,
Outside the god's are counting out, out every grain of sand,
What better way to spend an existence eternal
What better way than to keep up, persistence, eternal.

Tonight we face the daemons of our own insanities,
Of our well kept insecurities alongside our horrors unleashed,
To light the torch before the race it's all we ask, screaming profanities,
At those monsters of mist that cloud our clarity, lay our souls to waste.

Be destiny the persecutor or be it the blamed?
Be fate the firing squad by which our souls are maimed?

Addiction Goliath Futility Tamed.

The Black Rose has found his piece of ground,
Never will he leave. The season's round, the child
Unsound, weeping as he grieves. He's seen no
Death to mourn yet at times life's disillusioning thorns
Shred cloth be it fresh or be it worn.

Sour eyes wash over the face of time,
We're loosing sense of ourselves,
Loosing sense of everything,
All we know is to exist, our purpose
To lie complacent upon the shelf.
Hiding within our shells until we crack,
Untill we are released to prosper
Within a wealth of wisdom.

Fairy tale morality's come crashing down,
When perceiving the world with a constant frown,
I awoke this morning to the most startling sight,
The sky as I had never seen before.

Through enchanted eyes it came as little surprise
That I should separate colour from form and
Be left perceiving a world of perfection, of harmony inconsistent,
The beauty of chaos leaves us at a loss for words to describe the morn.

What did you learn upon your journey through the wilderness?
Through the recess of your mind?
For what is it you yearn? Some company so your opinion
May be found through rebounding ideals,
Leave them on the ground, leave them for someone else to find.

Time distilled the hour, the seconds came as days,
One moment as a lifetime, one moment more to play
The games of youth, one more moment to relive the
Memories of the sun kissed fields of our youth, I beg of you.

What more proof could you need that the truth's
You feed are no more than lies cast, set by the ruthless,
Those who can not bear themselves to arms to die for their hearts,
Those who can not bear to lie in the past.

Apologetic tendencies tend to flow unheard,
More so than prophetic dependencies leave you without a care, Secure in your belief, that the law of fatality will govern the mood,
Secure to their relief that the hand of fate is always there.

What kind of world is this we live in?

I ponder lay by the fireplace curled,
Within the sanctuary of heat, I ponder,
Whilst I walk within my seat.

Fathers abusing their children,
Mothers killing their young,
Selling her clothes for gin,
For a penny she has none.

Children beating on teachers,
In re payment of a debt,
Through generation rebirth,
Degeneracy has crept,

latent in the young gun's,
smoked out in the old,
running out of ammo
they start to do as they are told,

Fold out of existence,
Put up no resistance,
The pigs in their persistence,
Will always flog down the wrong crowd.

So this is fate as they say, the way we play the games we play
The way we run when they chase us with batons for fun

What does it matter whether or not you believe?
What does it matter whether or not you deceive?

Eight diamonds aresewn upon the sleeve, upon the turning of the leaf.

Up steps the child of dignity, honest in his reproach
Down plays the joy of vanity, her very skin to touch
To revel in her splendor
To suckling sweet for sour
Outside the horrors await our flesh to melt to drip devour
Stoned are the shells of dreamers
Carving into gravestones
Left alone to the dance are those dancers
Who have long since mangled their toes
Sidestepped their way to the shredder
Each a process within the machine.

Laugh, shake away every nightmare
That follows you into the day realm
Pass, wake and say I can keep steady at the helm
I can keep steady on what love I have to share.
Still lies dead what love was ever there.

Out steps the child of vanity, placid in his approach
Forgets the child of innocence has remembered way to much
Regrets the child of envy, he never were to touch
A love ready for the breaking, still will it ever come to such.

All you wish is to collide with her flesh,
To pound, grind, to come from behind,
Slip your fingers between her thighs
As you linger and sigh away, bliss for the blues today.
I'm shaking just thinking of waking next to the girl
Who's making me crazy, making me lazy,
Making concentration impossible and meditation hazy.

Memories are slipping, I’m loosing grip on,
What ever strands of reality I may still perceive.

poem by David Lacey
Added by Poetry Lover
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