Puissance -1
by Big-Hired Assassin
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Digital Album
--- Not only do you get an immediate download of a 17-track album in your choice of 320k mp3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire, but there is also a... BONUS... or as a fool might say... A Secret Gem(s).
--- Get numerous other 'goodies,' or 'Secret Gems' that were on the original BHA site, as well as several files from the album.
--- This is the ONLY place to get this stuff... right here in the OFFICIAL Big-Hired Assassin store!
--- Ahhh, life is grand, ain't it?Buy Now name your price
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Liquid Art
01:36
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Traitor
01:54
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Antebellum
01:02
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Uterus
00:35
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Vagrant
00:53
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Defect Of Birth
00:35
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Desperation
00:24
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If I Were An Ape
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Poetaster
00:26
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Envy
05:06
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Defiant Skin
01:10
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Filthy Voodoo Rhymes
09:35
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Industry
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about
Big-Hired Assassin (BHA) wanted to express his own anger and disappointment over the state of the world and in mankind.
Largely, he wanted to vent and connect with others that wanted to make changes, that thought differently, that had the ability to understand true freedom and the right to it. More than anything, he used his words in a facetious manner to point out things that troubled him in a society that only continued to fuel his poetic fire.
The cd was never intended to be ‘taken seriously,’ but has caused some controversy amongst philistines. It was meant to be a form of art and if it is viewed that way, one can see beauty, hope and passion in it.
Largely, he wanted to vent and connect with others that wanted to make changes, that thought differently, that had the ability to understand true freedom and the right to it. More than anything, he used his words in a facetious manner to point out things that troubled him in a society that only continued to fuel his poetic fire.
The cd was never intended to be ‘taken seriously,’ but has caused some controversy amongst philistines. It was meant to be a form of art and if it is viewed that way, one can see beauty, hope and passion in it.
credits
released 17 May 2002
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May 2002
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- Track Name: Post Mortem Blues Of Succession
-
you wanted it, so here it comes…
america is fast cars, spinning wildly out of control
america is aluminum, and radiates metallic growth
america is the land of disillusion, fiery depths of nihilism and torture, fatigued souls spitting lethargic words, cowards taming cannibalistic rage, penny pinching, soul stenching, straight up fucking confusion wrapped, or rather warped in commercialism and sad tales of defeat
spineless rabid dogs chasing parked cars outside of abandoned warehouses where prostitutes are sucking off some nine year olds father figure and then purchasing crack in order to deal with the taste of his business cum
america is a lie, brought to us by our forefathers, who were bastards themselves, and suffered from severe bouts of fixation and mutilation to others genitalia
as if this was not enough, their complex with oedipus rex made it so that they could only ejaculate while fantasizing about their own mother slicing and dicing their penis after they slaughtered daddy and mutilated his
america is the land of opportunity, and every preacher, junkie, alcoholic, stripper, prostitute, porn star, and bum will confess to that very fact.
america is proud, strong and independent
just ask any country that has been bombed, manipulated, lied to, or taking advantage of by our vast, and fully armed military
america believes in killing one another over job loss, trendy shoes, colors, parking spaces, obsession, possession, drugs, gambling, speeding tickets, and t.v.
america loves to give rights to criminals and take rights away from law abiding citizens who go to work for low wages and then are forced to pay taxes, so that congress can sit in some large room with their thumbs in each others ass and think of new ways to fuck things up
america loves instant gratification and this is displayed by all of our daily interactions with uncanny intercourse
we have instant food prepared in radioactive microwaves and processed meats delivered to us through little windows by popular demand
we have feature films brought to us with an immediate phone call. we have countless acts of treason at our command and we indulge mindlessly within them
america is sold out, perverted, introverted, extroverted, malicious and volatile
america is a land of waste, tyranny, and fatigue, lethargic beings sucking venom from open wounds in a fast and disillusioned state of mind.
america does not know art, and does not cherish creative intellect
america is a condition, a disease, a serious ailment, and should be viewed as such. one might add that this ailment, if left untreated, will bring a far worse condition than the human mind can imagine
america will become a colony, a concentration camp, and will eventually slaughter many men, women and children in an attempt to control individual liberty and creative expression
i am quite sure that some people will have the urge to argue, debate, analyze, and deface my observations. however, let me forewarn them. if these perceptions are disregarded, horror and unambiguous tyranny shall reign in absolute terror and disbelief.
america assassinated many native american tribes in order to build this concrete jungle. what makes you so sure that you will not be butchered as well? naivety and ignorance, i presume
even if i make myself out to be an arrogant, condescending, hypocritical, pompous ass, there is still truth in these words
i believe that we are dangerously close to this atrocious destination, that we will become man made tools for which the stagnant minds, so disdainfully abuse. - Track Name: Liquid Art
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no more rules
i will no longer obey your gods
i will kill them in their sleep
i will take over the seasons
and walk w/ you to the gate
there is no reason, nor time, to weep
i control the midgets
the battered spouses
and the rebellious teens
the mad and obscene
psychological machines
pumping me w/ fluids
made from lead and concentrated venom
you strange men
who create liquid art
w/ no passion
you trendy bastards
who follow the latest fashion
will burn in the ovens
along w/ the rest of the dead
and in the showers
w/ the rest of the dead
and on the beaches
w/ the rest of the dead
listen as we mourn
w/ the forgotten troops
and the destined losers
you who sleep safely
will not forget me
i am on my way
to take what is already mine
to claim my paradise
you will wish you were dead
after i let loose what is in my head
take out the trash…burn the evidence
and keep watch
i’ll be there soon
to comfort you - Track Name: Agent Orange
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whatever happened to me must have taken my pity
whatever happened to me must have taken my skin
the needle left me paralyzed
the monsters damned me
junkies ripped me limb from limb
and fed me w/ laughter
now, every time i see one of you
i kill
i don’t even consider it anymore
i just kill
it’s become worse
now, i kill people who don’t even resemble you
they are nothing like you
but i kill them anyways
i can’t stop
i must kill
all i think about …all i dream about
i am consumed by murder
i murdered jimmy
i murdered mozart
i murdered lincoln
i murdered jfk
i murdered lennon
i murdered roosevelt
i murdered dickinson
i murdered baudelaire
i really shouldn’t say much more
agent orange
he now knows me because i checked out a book
at the library
i entered a chat on the net
i own a rollins book
purchased a vocabulary builder
read helter skelter
attended a seance
and lived in manitou springs - Track Name: Traitor
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i have electrical veins as i spit at the newspaper clippings
from our disillusioned houses of ridicule
i picture you sitting in the transformed halls of idiocy
w/ your heels slit from rusty razors which were dipped in chlorine
and then saturated in salt
this is my fantasy
maybe, you can sue me for inspiring horrid and atrocious thoughts
to enter into your psyche
therefore, you will not be held accountable for your actions
i will be responsible for your weak will
i will place you on my hate list and piss on your bedding
i will leave you a rose from my decaying garden
i will love you when you are beaten by the masses
i will help guide you to the fleshly curiosa
i will help you to find the underground tunnels that lead to zarathustra
you can decide for yourself which side to devour
there is no need for us to speak w/ arsenic tongues
or to bear metal on our defiant skin for the shrewdness
from apes, asses, peddlers and swine who live in the
reunification of villainous plutocracies
there is no need for us to wither in this putrid cesspool
w/ our eyes sown shut, our mouths silenced and our hands tied
waiting for the dogs to bite
there is no honor in silence
i refuse to be the maker…i refuse to be the man
nonetheless, our people are strong…now is the time
know your enemy
i saw you for the first time delivering a sermon
at a widely accredited university
i shook your hand firmly
i commented on your vast array of knowledge
i built you
now, i am the distributor of massive air raids
and redundant executions…tragic stories and history
believe me when i say that i understand anger
i am the arbitrator
i know my enemies - Track Name: Antebellum
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there used to be a tremendous appreciation for artistic endeavors.
now there is only the act of appreciation.
there used to be magnificent statues built in honor of the chosen few.
now there is only photographs of the artist’s epitaph.
how they have forgotten us, my friend,
as our remains are spread over barren soil.
our tempers appeased by xeroxed copies of hamlet.
our words pacified by men with laconic tongues.
with our minds mutilated by labor
and our inspiration murdered by wanton desire
we struggle to maintain at minimum, at least, one creative thought.
this desperation is what ails me the most.
we used to be so courageous; braver than rattlesnakes.
now we are all just ruled by indolence and worst yet, politics.
forgive us artists, for walking on your petunias.
your grand gardens of indulgence
and your syphilitic, sybaritic trophy rooms.
a thousand nights of fever, justifiably so. - Track Name: Uterus
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exiled from your garden
the man left gently
imagining
a new place
and wondering
if this was the last time
he would think of you
or you, of him
he was a virgin
innocent and pure
now, half empty and dead
he knows he is no longer
a part of you
the umbilical cord
was severed years ago
and the afterbirth
put an end to the truce - Track Name: Vagrant
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forgive me for dancing w/ the dead
in their ring of fire
for lounging in their chairs
and hearing their tales
deliver us from evil
tyranny
blood swept vagrant
you are just under the weather
forget the others
i want to live in azure w/ the fiends
i want to taste their wine
and smoke w/ them
amongst the ruins
where the dogs bark
and the bloated man plays the piano
w/ weariness and worry for the peasants
the queen is popping pills in the attic
w/ the servants
i am amazed by her sullen mood
the ghastly grin
as she cuts her wrists
w/ rubber razor blades
given to her
by me
as the pool is drained
and the evidence is properly disposed of
i can imagine the orchestrated version
the one that stays w/ me
i can no longer apologize
for being truant
it was by my absence
that i came to be - Track Name: Defect Of Birth
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relax.
no one will ever find out.
no one cares about the dead
and their shortness of breath.
the ships of cargo going elsewhere,
as long as the virus doesn’t settle
where their tv is
and it doesn’t upset their stomach
or leave them with diarrhea.
hail the loose-lipped censored screens
of the phantom, and in return,
great material wealth
will come knocking at your door.
surely, this cannot continue.
we’ll find the secret to space
before we understand the importance
of the sacred omen of art.
need i say more? - Track Name: Desperation
-
margaret
where are the countless flowers this spring
where is the new moon
shining casually in through the castle
the peasants & the freaks & the jugglers
where are they
bound by forgotten memories
& lost in the essence of nostalgia
tired madman
searching for inner peace
somewhere past the sea
past the meaningless colors
somewhere
there is a place for me - Track Name: If I Were An Ape
-
leave me alone
i need to dwell in the pits w/ the servants
i have to hear the conversations
i have to know what is said to the dying man
join me in the meadows
w/ the giants and the silent elders
children play hop-scotch on the radio
w/ obscene laughter
w/ profane chlorine souls
w/ the corpse of our weak president
w/out thinking about it
w/o the fear
w/o the torturous thoughts
there is no need to dissect the insects
the breeding habits of mammals
oxygen is on sale at sears
the american people are scarred bitter and useless
every great nation falls
one w/ the symbol of a bird, or so it has been written
amphetamine horoscope
the horizon, pink and orange and polluted w/ cowardice
i am bored
there is nothing left to see
or to feel in this morass of hatred
the windows have plywood over them
the halls have zombies roaming them
there are men responsible for these designs
they are sordid
they are putrid
they are tying the hands of our families w/ barb wire
and suffocating us w/ promises, which mean nothing,
from men w/ barbaric tongues - Track Name: Dissipated Ritual (Lies Of The Emperor 06900)
-
i’m sick again
$ dwelling in the outer depths of treason.
i have found an answer to this uncanny conflict.
simplicity has burdened me.
throughout this journey of endless vision,
i’ve encountered specific standards placed upon, by themselves,
the mortal men.
an evaluation by the finest
$ most distant envious individuals.
one must question their existence.
how is it that we will know when it’s over,
when it is time to retire $ join those whom we have lost?
how will we know when our missions
are complete?
how will we know when our purpose
for roaming (roman) this impious
$ outspoken world is complete?
this palace of execution
just how can i find what it is
that i am looking for
when every time i’m close
it becomes dissonant
undiscovered
$ sealed over
by some huge $ invisible force shield
which cannot be penetrated.
would you be happier if i continued
to chase this miracle
or have you lost faith
that miracles can even happen?
not that i’d blame you
i have eyes. - Track Name: Poetaster
-
i bleed with anticipation
i crave my obsession
i write for hours on end
in hope that the words never end
i’m like a gypsy for prose
i’m like a prophet of poems
i’m like a martyr for literature
i love my obsession
i love like no other
i love being a poetaster
i am not the master
the words rule me
i could not stop
even if i wanted to - Track Name: Envy
-
desperation settles in my stomach like a bad glass of milk
i can not depend on you or your filthy lies
which you send me through the mail
i sat in the corner of the room, waiting for a sign.
some sort of life, love or beauty
it (life) never appeared
now, i sing my madness on my machine gun
my lungs filled w/ poison and smoke
my heart pumping toxins
my hands loading the gun
i feed your vampires…i keep them healthy
i dream of bodies…naked and violent
spun in some mechanical web of desire
the constant thought of death on my mind
i am selfish…consumed w/ concentration
i need the differences which separate us
it reminds me that i am not you
but how i have longed to be
because your lips move so sweetly
your tongue transcends erotica
your neck is perfect
your body…healthy…pure…clean
you…i want to be you…only you
no one else makes me worship
no one else makes me pray (prey)
you are the innards of christianity itself
you had the roman empire built
you crucified christ
you caused the great depression
you ended up being the only one who was unique
you questioned everything and never accepted anything
unless it proved valid in your thoughts
yet, you were able to dismiss it w/ out hating yourself
you are beauty
a stallion… a changeling… a chameleon
you dominate the peasants w/ out causing suffering
you do not need approval to remain loyal to your ideas
you, the bearer of truth
you intoxicate me… i am drunk w/ envy
i lust after your strength… your passion
just once i would like to be you
just for a moment
then i would know
if you are real - Track Name: Defiant Skin
-
there is freedom in the ward of the damned
i have waited for an eternity
to stretch my sullen hands
across the border of this sullen atmosphere
i have no desire to sleep
i have no desire to rest
i only want us to get a little closer to understanding
what the difference is between sustenance and art
man has ruined all that has been given
we have chosen to allow for most of this to occur
do not act as if you are innocent
do not pretend to be indifferent
this is my playground
this is my chance to show my anger
my empathy
my intolerance
and my reality
we’ll fly further from our point of existence than ever before
curse our mother and consume our father
for this is man, and man discourteously casts his morals aside
for the chance to make his pockets one inch deeper than his fellows
you wonder why death, disease, greed, and famine plagues us
just call me noah, buddha, hare krishna, moses, jesus, or the antichrist
but believe me when i say that i am but an artist
who is intrigued by passion
and mystified with the idea of freedom - Track Name: Filthy Voodoo Rhymes
-
my voice; which you called sultry
soft & delicate
& so full of passion
has become cold & raspy
& i want to sing something beautiful
something which would make you
dream fragile things
i can not help but try to conquer the void
for i am empty
i have nothing left to offer
& your beauty does not need me
does not long for me
w/ in this thought
i pray for innocence
but it does not admire me
& what do they call my poetry
scarred & bitter
& full of rage
there will never be another night
spent beside you, me love
another chance to suck each other’s brain
or to dwell in the sex crazed frenzy
& god does not need
more soldiers
nor does he need more pirates
the holocaust of doubt
has gassed me
bitten & smashed me
give me another evening
to deliver my woes
to envision my sorrow
but not to dance w/ fools
something powerful
something different
must i continue to bask in
these filthy voodoo rhymes
away from tribes; tender flowing dreams
& the opportunity to bathe in triumph
instead of drown in disappointment
nothing feels the same w/ out you
you, whom the killer took
& left immortal
amongst the crashing tidal waves
& the dummies who
think of you
call upon he who leads the dogs
into the devilish caverns
where mystery staged her name
& saw fit to dye the welkin
w/ precious paint
& frail hands
i know the prison in which she weeps
when the weapons become strong
& the people weak
the final showdown
the mental freak
the book-worm
the circus creep
who lit the lamps on 24th street
& held justice in his hand
before the post war began
worry not
in time the demons sleep
& the cancer subsides
the papers fill the basket
& the piano delights the senses
& while the orchestra
demands sullen notes
the chords deliver electric wizardry
all the while…you forget misery
& leave him in pleasantry
behind the gentle facade lies sorcery
& your spine ignites like it is
a road to destiny
live there my friend…away from despair
crumple the targets & shoot the fiend
who stole your purity
no joust for liars & hanging thieves
or late night encounters w/ visionary
live there in the silence of romance
& the frowning mothers
profound fears
live there in america
where freedom shines
on the backs of the
starving artists
& their misunderstood
alliance
i have decided
to quit my weary approaches
& move on w/ my gift of song
& to you
my beautiful poetic princess
i wish you happiness
& honor your new name
& let me not forget
your soft lips on my brow
your perfumed essence
stained w/ the stench from gamblers
who admire your presence
this is all they can do
because no man alive
is worthy of your courtship
or to feel your softest skin
your angled body
your words of wisdom
if you were a century old
you would still shine
in this undisciplined mind
which thinks of you
kind & powerful
& full of spirit
now that my hands tremble
& my body grows tainted
my words seem less important
w/ in this asylum, w/ it’s riches
& it’s decadence
i respect the words
which flow seeming endless
only in dreams do things seem so everlasting
left unharmed by the wicked ways of war
the moon which casts deliverance upon you
brings me grief
as it disappears
into your eyes
lost forever
& tucked away
in the unspoken words
hidden by your smile
i shall miss you
when time takes you
into her raven wings
mother, i do not feel strong
i do not feel lucky either
so what should i do
in this dark hour
i finally understand you
w/ pride i endure
the killer
i persevere
through the torment
of not feeling your arms around me
to sing me to sleep w/ your tone deaf ears
& your unsure miraculous voice
i regret not being w/ you
when the houses crumbled
& i walked for days on the silent oath
that i made in brushton
w/ the graveyard, i too, became silent
as giants played marbles on canada
as vagrants filled the booths
as memories faded
& pictures grew worn
the fields reassured me
of serenity
but then again
so did the mortuary
the fog
& the orchards
the wild barns
& the shallow strangers
jinxed from superstitions
myths & fairy tales
fed perversions
through foolish trails
& i entered the church
in an attempt to appease you
& i joined the holiday smashers
the cannibalistic preachers
the redundant verses
to appease you
now i am still a boy
in a man’s world
or since this is the 21st century
maybe a woman’s
either way i forgive you
& still call you
the master of change
this does not come easy to me
it is, in a sense, an exorcism
i let the demons have their way
then, & only then, do i
have the opportunity
to engage in harmony
i become one
understand that i have no choice
it is purely a coincidence
a nuisance
teresa
i wonder about you
where you are
& what you do
i recall buena vista
& the wild claims
your brilliant smile
your tortured brain
manitou
your strange ways
ritualistic ways
acid into our veins
captain rum
& drifting away
intoxicated fame
you, the drifter
seattle & alaskan boat ships
halloween & embracing lips
i am sorry that i grew
to disappoint you
your smile could topple cities
i remember our discussions
& how you saw bridges in my eyes
late night tarot readings
you always found me when i needed it most
if i could do it all over again
i would only change one thing
can you find me here?
have i lost my way?
wherever you are
i hope you still believe
that i am one of a kind
i too, have been burnt
by the pharaonic dirt
glass chambers
reflect nothing
only silence
fallen men
bubonic plague
the guardian of tidal waves
napalm death
air raids
futuristic technological slaves
wisdom & mathematical gods
take pride in being hitler
& only needing programs & logs
mute spectators
pay for this
w/ their minimum wage
value your possessions
your materialistic holocaust
will show you the way
pray w/ me for more money
more shallow fateful memories
more fatal potency
if hitler were a man
i’d respect you
& give you my aid
you, who ride the vast region
& need not open an eye
enchanting mammal kin
i can not relate
& desecrate
your children’s land
however, if you pay my rent
& my library fees
maybe, we can work something out
stale bread & recycled water
does get old & bitter
no need for the rights once granted thee
doesn’t it amaze you
how many of us are dying
& all of you dear people
who have touched my life
both good & bad
i’ve not truly explained
how this works
this great machine
this mechanical thing
see, i do not rewrite these words
i type them as they are
i am not a designer
or a sculpture
i am not a well read argument
or a prepared speech
yes, i do it w/ ease
yes, at any moment
yes, it writes itself
& all of you who know me
& read this garbage
tell me that you
wish you could do the same
no
you do not want this
if you only knew
then you would cast it aside
w/ out another thought
& you would try to forget it
because it is poetry
or prose
or verse
it has many titles
but the truth is
it has only one meaning
it means experience
& in the worst way
i have no control over
whether or not it happens
& yes, i am a hypocrite
because it allows me to be
whatever i desire
but it makes me what i abhor as well
if you want it
it is yours
i do not own or possess it
& it comes w/ no titles or deeds
you can not trade it in
or throw it out
you can not invest it
or wait for it to mature
& it holds no position
in the stock exchange
it does not make you better or holier
than anybody else
it is only poetry
or prose
or verse
it has many titles
but the truth is
you only love & respect it
because you have no other choice
it’s not due for departure anytime soon
if i could give it to you
i would
but i am not god
i am not the omega
or the supreme
nor am i the alpha
i do not breathe fire
or walk on water
i am only a man
no, i’m a poet
who is afraid to die
afraid to speak
afraid to live
afraid to be alone
afraid to fight
afraid to sing
afraid to write
afraid of you
afraid of me
& most importantly
afraid of poetry
or prose
or verse
it has many titles
but the truth is
when i find myself in this debris
& the nihilism subsides
along w/ the cancer
i will cordially invite
all of you to the ceremony
where we can relearn
what it is like
to be a child - Track Name: Industry
-
you want the truth
the temple is erect
the maids are busy
industry won
the heart does not feel
it simply feeds the need
the fog will not lift
the people will not stop
industry won
no negro will be free
no end to prejudice
they will always stereotype
what is not like them
war will never end
there is no more money
just debt
industry won
there will always be prostitution
there will always be rapists
and child molesters
there will always be drugs and gambling
there will always be disease
greed and famine
there will never be enough love
there is no such thing as peace
there will always be crooked pigs
crooked politicians and crooked preachers
industry won
there is no need for a constitution
or a bill of rights
there is no such thing as “justice for all”
not enough medicine
not enough cures
guns will eventually be taken away
as well as education and treaties
there will never be a long-haired
tattooed president
or a mexican one, for that matter
and when freedom is completely taken away
remember we are to blame ourselves
for not taking down the menstruating
clergymen and their bloodthirsty contracts
industry won - Track Name: Dissipated Ritual (Lies Of The Emperor 069042 - 069049)
-
meet me at dawn
my head is on fire
morning hate ritual
we need beauty to show us truth
justice is the american way
i wish i could travel the center of the universe
the explicit core
i hate these days
where is liberty
no flowers at my requiem
surely you jest
not the infant night
behold, the silly servant
the wrecking ball
the stage
the tatterdemalion minstrel
i fell in love amadeus beethoven $ bach
the rich symphonies
a perfect symbol
finds a perfect slave
alone once again
i am bound by passion
cynicism $ solitude
late night fortitude
let us not forget
the hell that surely went into this fine achievement
i wish you the best my sullen friend
my ghastly partner
we shall meet again in the silent fields
where we will play cards w/ picasso
super nova
a magical moment
sincere dark poet
pulling twisted teeth
over pale waves
the end of all creation
rain stains the windshield
moves the earth to new places
displaying old faces
caught by silent gunshot
the last great poet
walks on melted ice
he bled in the holy wars
on the beaches
$ betwixt the canyons
which led him here
the sweet poetess greeted him fervent rhymes
the goddess of verse
gives life to wine
the emblem is given
to the dying man
in return for song
the music seems to never end
full of life, death $ passion
it was bigger than them
it was a monster
it brought light to the dark pastures
made the skies clearer
everything appeared to make sense
every second of every hour
every hour of every day
every day of every year
$ when the music died
disappointment set in
confusion set in
reality
mortality
if i never breathed again
at least, i could take comfort in knowing
that i understand the power of song
$ yet i understand so much more than i ever have before
like the tyranny of death
the stench of life
i know the smell all too well
i am dying of cancer
my teeth are rotting
my stomach is exposed
my cock is limp
my body is sore
my mind is old
my breath stinks
i have not had a decent bowel
movement in days
but i am enjoying modern technology
as i sit and waste away over 100 channels of pure hatred
lament veins and worn out nose
selfish and pitiful whore
the deli which serves internet guests and spectators
as the forehead expands $ the numbers take over
the ego becomes a way to live
i am better than you
i have nicer things
the gods will spare me
i will be lifted up
carried off $ set free from hypocrisy
i am the devil
the fallen angel
the informant
just waiting for you to show me a sign of weakness
then i’ll take over the slaughter
fed to the circus freak-fuck
master of fashion
honor thy mother
the house of ill repute
am i the disillusioned musician
the stupid bastard entertaining you
unwilling to admit that you are already entertained
by the thoughts in your head
the sewer systems clogging your brain
the endless hours counting useless shit
when will this end
this rat race
this torture
just kill me
you merciless fuck
you sick whore
your cunt is an open invitation to death
your scent deadly itself
no peace
i can no longer live this way
i am sick of it
the stores
the malls
the credit cards
paper or plastic
plastic, but only if you’ll stick it over your fucking head
another dead end stare
puzzled faces
i am useless
a real loser
the best of all
the supreme screw up
addicted to the words
which get me nowhere
$ leave me there as well
either way
your eyes give you away
think for yourself
no one else can taste this
this cheap pornographic flick that plays repeatedly in my head
like some cherished moment or traumatic moment
stress
stress buries me
yes, i am serious
i can no longer live off of the tiny pills you feed me
i need more ammunition
more
more
more
immunization
that is the goal
quit asking me dumb questions
eventually you become numb
the creator laughs as you reach new levels of sterility
you pompous ass
you’re not special
you don’t get out of bed for you anymore
you get out of bed for them
you’re immune to the disease
we are all infected
i am tired
i feel like i want to say something to make it all better
but i constantly fuck up at the most crucial moment
because i am too involved with myself to see anything else
cursing the insides of saints
i feel like the plague
i ruin everything
i hurt the most wonderful people
$ i continue searching for some lost treasure
that probably doesn’t even exist
i give up
i quit
great moments were taken from me
i sat in the temple away from the peasants
i ate the finest foods
tasted the best women
$ worshiped in the temples w/ you
my father, my brother, my mentor
then i witnessed your acts
your great deeds
it was then my faith died
my rage ignited
i burst into a million tiny pieces
in order to contain you
i burned the crops of venus
$ let the serpents roam
trying to turn the pages
of your fiery script
the madness took over
i understood the hatred
the ridiculous thievery
the dying man
i embraced you all
in some last attempt to regain
my superior position
but i fell in the mouth of goliath
$ churned in his belly for four weeks
until finally adultery set me free
only to be enslaved again by greed
when i grew in the eyes of politics
i fled the city
i fled the state
i found agnostic hope in other places
but my lips were silenced by jacob
$ my tongue eaten by his children
i worked for food but was beaten by the other slaves
raped $ used
my inferiority made them feel superior
it reassured them that they still had dignity
but i knew that their masters had taken that a long time ago
i escaped in the black of night
$ found my way
by the fire that
burned inside of me
i danced inside bitter veins $ fell in lust w/ white powder
love with the cowardly black beauties
hypnotized by the stars $ stripes
which led me astray
I met you by the river
$ watched you take your life
i felt bad for taking your wallet
but i made it by bus back to the city
i tried to stand up once again
i built small
until i finally felt that
i had regained power
i walked the city every night waiting for the magic to happen
it never did
i was forced into living the junkies $ the vultures in order to escape the bastards that decorated my soul with their dreams of control $ prestige
the words twisted in my brain $ it was all i could do to make it through the day w/ out killing one of you
I was all used up
$ laughed at myself
for being such a fool
i delivered $ traded secrets to the mercenaries
and they paid me well
by killing a few
$ a few more
i never made it back to you
before the words stole you
$ left you broken
the whores help me forget you
for awhile anyhow
i’ll never fully lose thought of you
but i will continue trying
when all else fails
i know i can give up
$ i know that you will eventually quit torturing me
so, you wanted poetry
sublime $ careless verse
$ you needed the presentation
to be superb
well this is it
i have given you another
verse from the angry wizard
$ even though i am exhausted
$ nothing surprises me
$ nothing shocks me
i go on
i know that i curse my thoughts
my intentions $ my creative monsters
they do not let me rest
I know that I want this to end but alas, it shall not
and so I lie to myself again
the torture will go on $ i realize that i can not quit
i can however give up for a second or two
$ then i am back again
more powerful $ more demanding
i also realize that even if i wrote the most wonderful poem ever
full of life $ love
w/ out out the anger
w/ out the death
w/ out the violence
w/ out the madman
you would not care for me any more or less than you do already
w/ that being exempt
$ this in mind constantly
i realize that you have given up already
that this is a dead issue
so i leave you with your $$$
