The Poem That Explained It Allthey say life\'s a riddle believing is deceiving life\'s not the riddle life is the logical part the real riddle lies afterwards in deathThe Poem That Explained It All
i\'ve listened to preachers i\'ve listened to fools heaven and hell after the mortal rules
are we so weak-minded
can\'t we accept
what is dying there are no witnesses near-death experiences lively chemicals is all
they\'ve experienced
in fact they know nothing
for dying is to become nothing and to become nothing is to feel nothing and to affect n
Escape This Whatever This Isi want to run away i want to escape to a better placeEscape This Whatever This Is
where heart ache and pain are an unknown concept where crimes never go unpunished where apologies are truly accepted
and everyone is forgiven
i only want to belong
in this place of harmony where no one cares what you have done where everyone is open minded where achievements aren\'t taken for granted and everyone values each other
i honestly want to escape this this whatever this is this feeling of not belonging this hole in my heart burning through my veins crawling under
lost in chaosReflected neglected a life, a lost wave of tension past, never raising to praise me never always raising me highlost in chaos
expectations to drop me
to never go on
falling to fail
no strings left to pull no cards left to play light passes through me intrepid emotions impartial guilt
wrapped in darkness
caught red-handed fight the obvious what\'s one more lie behind the smokescreen trembling
whisper hide in the silence
SystemsThe nights had always been the hardest for him. He would wake, confused and struggling for breath. Though it wasn't his last breath, but he could have fooled anyone. His way of inhaling, resembled the way of a terminally sick man, reaching for an extra jolt of air to keep his sanity present. Maybe it reassured him, knowing that the nurse would monitor him a little closer, giving the state of his respiration. Maybe he liked the attention, after all, it was what he lay here for anyway. In fact, the nurse thought he was dying, but she couldn't have known any better. If she had, maybe she wouldn't have worried about him all night. She was, afterSystems
ComputerCOMPUTERComputer
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The Best Poem Ever WrittenSomeone is going to produce The best poem ever written.The Best Poem Ever Written
It will be blessed with one hundred and three lines Of genius, and a hint of luck. The lines will not be overlong But not too
Short.
Each stanza will be written With vigor, on purpose And will never exceed the limit of Seventy-six syllables... Or something like that.
In this poem there will be a man. This man, though, will not be a hero. Nor will he be a loser. He will be just the right type of
Everything and have only one tragic flaw Which will be...
France 1789France, 1789 ------------France 1789
In this dream were the ruined walls where i abjured the vicious men;
and of stone the oubliette forgotten, where were cast treacherous kin.
An intention not was it that i recalled the nightmares birthed in blood;
bairns whence thighs of witched wenches herewith barking as dogs tied in the mud;
the cut-throats of monarchial priesthood disrobed in my revolt and cain;
all my lovely children slain.
Jordan Jones 2/7/2003
Hey
What you know you can't explain, but you feel it. You've felt it your entire deviant life, that there's something wrong with the story. You don't know what it is, but it's there, like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad.
You take the blue pill, the story ends. Your browser closes and you believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill, you stay in wonderland. And, I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes.
I offer only the truth, nothing more.
Take: The Red Pill
Take: The Blue Pill
--
The Angry Deviant
Random Deviant
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