ever since we were kids
but now, now weve got something to prove
and i, i can see their eyes
so tell me something, can they see mine?
cause whats left to lose
ive done enough
and if i fail well then i fail but i gave it a shot
and these last three years, i know theyve been hard
but now its time to get out of this desert and into the sun
even if its alone
i was on your porch last nite
the smoke it sank into my skin
MARC MCKNIGHT
Atreyu
…With jealousy Hidden in the Soil
There are many signs
as slowly it comes.
Furnaces shine gold on three cities!
The dead are burning now.
From the east the sun is rising.
Faultless and idle, Men stand in the dusk.
Leaning heavily on the abandoned.
From the enemy we defend
Armless race with the winds
Night burials leave dawn to empty streets
Children are dying!
And we’re scattered among the shelter of marriage.
These walls fall as fast as tears
With years of waiting for the sky
To shine its gold on this city.
So much hate comes from thirst
A taste of water seems hollow!
These cities are buried with starvation
The sun stands on the sky
While our roofs give in to the wind
These houses are flooded with wonder
Of how a man could drown
A life from opposition.
Follow.
Shout!
Give and run with arousal
A chance to see the murder(ed)
Fight to stay alive.
MARC MCKNIGHT
Atreyu
Make Miserable and Cause Sorrow in Others
Mistakes are often fatal,
But a good beginning is half the battle.
And a good, practical commencement
Is a Pledge, a promise
Satisfied with resolutions of well doing
Enjoy the fruits of the industry.
Search lights.
Or light on dark corners.
Find the power in words
Cause for every faker
there are a hundred enemies.
There are few crimes beyond a loss of character.
Maybe a degradation of reputation
Who shall repair the injury?
Who can redeem the lost?
What person can heal a ruined remedy?
Warn the people that contact implies death.
Self Control.
Self control means courage in a foreign form
Support of a character can be found in habit
And in habit one can find the root of all virtue.
revenge is a Poor creature, crawling through life
Fame never magnifies character!
And well ended
is half begun
JASON GLEASON
ActionReaction
This Is Not Me
what’s it like to make a metaphor?
my mother’s a womb
my dad’s a guitar
my love is a heart
or a kiss
or a star
or a prayer for my life as I sleep in the car
she’s a doctorate in rain
and the same last name
or a light in the dark and my god is the same
my life is a speck of dust
or a flame
and I’m all the better for it
not knowing, or caring, it’s not for me to choose
some call it trust
some call it faith
it’s all just a matter of taste
and this is not me
and I’ve fooled you all again
JASON GLEASON
ActionReaction
catching the grayest of blue skies when
love is just too big to know
straddling april’s winter when the
heart is only half whole
for pouring myself onto misguided streets
that I turn
and traffic will always be waiting for me to catch up,
to catch up,
to crash,
to burn
oh exit, exit, she calls out my name
catching her breath on my memory stained
I remember a time when I traveled afloat
but my ship has a hole…
and it’s only a matter of time till I know
JASON GLEASON
ActionReaction
1+1=3 (Reassurance)
white
green
white
green
white
green green green green…
red, always seeing red
amore Divino.
don’t let me fall
two white wings and I know you won’t let me fall
pt. 2-
and I never would
but just know while we sleep
He’ll be holding us up
for the world
kind of like flying
kind of like floating
something like swimming in the womb
but it’s just me and you and 1+1=3.
CHRIS HAYNIE
Wear and Tear.
There is an empty house six miles down the road filled with nothing and soggy walls and floor beams that ache and ache from not being walked on in so long and they would creak and creak if they could, if only someone would come up the front steps and give them a good battering or stomping or stamping or maybe just a soft dance whether there was music or not and oh how the walls wanted music. The house was an empty place filled with nothing not evens of all sorts, nothing not evens like wine and shoes and gushy, smiling children who peed on the floor at night because the bogeyman was outside, and nothing, not even air, and if there had been things inside they would have floated like birds, but there was nothing inside and even if there had been it wouldn’t have mattered because there wasn’t even light to see it with, and oh how the walls wanted light, because they were painted such a beautiful color.
MARK THOMAS KLUEPFEL
Action Action
my entire life is a really bad b-rated 80’s movie; not like “Earth Girls Are Easy,” but like “Monster Squad”
MARK THOMAS KLUEPFEL
Technology will kill me,
So will poor penmanship
(and spelling and grammar,
well and also logic)
JAMISON COVINGTON
JamisonParker
I wish that I could claim these words as my own, but they’ve come from someone that understands this world far better than I could ever imagine. In a time of disposable love and faith based upon circumstance, a time where we’d rather watch someone else’s life broadcast on our television than take part in our own triumphs & tragedies, a time where I know that I’m not the only one that has a need that no prescription or product can even begin to fulfillI’ll never claim to have any of the answers, only the same questions as everyone else. Take joy in being ignorant with me, for ignorance is bliss. I was once told that what separates intelligence and genius is realizing how little you really know & what separates faith and blindness is a thing called hope.
ROBERT MONROE
Maida
his ocean wrists run deep.
but the floods before him,
will not be cause
to drown.
JOSEPH TROY
Rx Bandits
T&R&K
I took a bulb and crushed it with my foot. I was wearing shoes. The thin glass did not penetrate. If it did, I may not have even felt it. Besides, a bottle of brown poison had taken over most of my blood cells. Still, I bre
ak my legs as I break contact with you. If it’s hours I wouldn’t know. It’s just time and we cannot pull it off with any valid amount. Chain me to you, so no time can separate us. Visit with me forever, or contemplate crushing the same bulb beneath your bare feet. You need to feel it. This will become easier or harder and I choose the latter. But I need your chain, even though its links are broken.
JOSEPH TROY
Rx Bandits
…Periods…
My barstool breaks from under me and I find the ground is far more idealistic. The glass shards tear into my arms, legs and stomach, leaving me to bleed. Letting me suffer. Watching me hunt for an answer. I’ll tell you my secret: There was no stool to start with and I’ve lain in glass all of my life. I give myself the pleasure of blood to experience how you felt as you drug your hands through your own period. Your sickness is revolting. But still I watch from the ground and roll over and over on my impending body and soul. I watch you as you stare into the red curtain and hope that you become one with it. I stare into your eyes and wish to become one with you. Fucking my blood with yours, making this blood combination.
JOSEPH TROY
Rx Bandits
What Will It Take to Ruin Your Day?
This fire is burning. The light it provided yesterday still hangs low in your room. Smoldering lamp feeds sickness to your blood. The bird sits on your windowsill, Mocking (as it should), your eyes that have been dissolved by the heat. She smells your disapproval and makes it worse by defecating atop anything you wish to remain pure. Ha ha. Blind and filth tattered. I never want to know you or how you feel knowing me. Because then I would have no choice but to throw my few senses into the smoldering fire and fuck what I have become.
JOSEPH TROY
Rx Bandits
Divided Shadow
Detached but still self-centered, I could be lying down or standing up. Both ways I would feel warm next to you. The sky omits nothing. No light, no stars, no moon. All foundations of purity and innocence can be divided by your touch. Still, restlessness overcomes all and defeats no one but me. A shadow twist of faith can be seen and heard. With all else silent which noise can be recognized? For I do not understand the true meaning of this shadow. It is temperamental and disobedient. I wait for light to lift it away as if it were a nullified illusion. Please be an illusion.
JOSEPH TROY
Rx Bandits
I Control You I Control the View
At this point, there may be no turning back. As if the halfway point only existed as an awful excuse for tears: I’m drowning in this rented water… Yours. Each breath continues to drive me to drink this death. Lawless and lost. Fucked with fusion. Physical and permanent. Bashful and betrayed. Tortured and motherfucking demolished. This wrecking ball strikes all that lives in peace to make your world survive in my bitter delight. This wrecking ball will fuck your world and I can control it. If you want to fight back, find your own fucking disaster.
JOSEPH TROY
Rx Bandits
Penn to Penn
What the fuck happened to the last one home? She swore she would be the first. Payments for her subtleties were not worth the wait. As her life continued, her eyes bled more and her throat remained forever dry. I can watch her die before me; I can watch myself die as well. Will this last? As you arrive I will perfect my departure. Depending on the final destina-tion, your call might not be received and your face will have a hollow hint of yellow. Don’t trust the mirror, though, that will only make it worse. Don’t trust the puddle of water, the fountain or the glass. They are all liars and as I watch you come home I will be one for you. Your comfort zone parallels my boredom.
JOEY CAPE
Lagwagon
The Arms Race of Sound (Lullaby)
Waging war on the arms race of sound
Turn it down Pull the plug
Imminent surrender Ringing in the new Dark Age
Shut down the noise-aholics
Put down the quiet-ophobics
In a daydream of peace
In a calmness too brief
My lullaby is killing
My lullaby be stilling
It could be such sweet silence
From static from violence from…
Volume is the modern currency
Everyone competing for airspace
Everybody’s dumb
Shouting muddled words as though they’re Deaf
Big brother isn’t watching anymore
He knows we are distracted and absorbed
Broadcasting our grief
Our imaginations atrophied
We can’t think
If I could sing them all to sleep
If I could sing myself Deaf
Wouldn’t it be lovely?
Doesn’t it sound perfect?
Every generation hates the next
I will save the millions from a slow insufferable death
I’ll put them to sleep
Save them from progressive misery
If I could sing myself to sleep
If I could sing myself deaf
Wouldn’t it be lovely?
Doesn’t it sound perfect?
My lullaby is killing
My lullaby be stilling
Memorized involuntary
I think I can change the world
GARED O’DONNELL
Planes Mistaken For Stars
A Belly Full of Hell
it crept to me like a cancer in rny sleep. it gnawed the meat right from these bones. and so it seems somewhere, somehow the wonder was stolen and the truths we held were squandered or sold, and these walls will find us beggars, liars and whores. it’s getting colder quicker, and we’re putting bets on who’s quickest to leave. we picked our poison, talked shit, but couldn’t choke it down. we tapped the vein. we tainted the trust. this silver spoon has been licked to rust. if this were a test we’d be failing it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
STEVE SCAVO
The Color Turning
As the Heart Departs
All my friends they each will tell you different things
but it’s the comfort that kills me
Art you said was more of an obscurity
It was you
and you’re right where you should be
you’re doing nothing
amidst applause
your heart is empty
your judgment’s pending
Left alone to your devices
it’s hard to say that this would be better
that this would be sane
This life is mine
What are your intentions?
If that was as good as it gets
it’s just enough to forget
If that was as good as it gets
it’s just enough to continue again
I know your face
I’ve smelled your waste
I’ve seen your heart
And I can’t look again
For my reflection’s just as dark
If this is the last breath I should take
I’m just getting better
“In life we learn from our mistakes”
I’m married to mine
Take all the things you’ve left behind
they’ve haunted me always
and here’s to years and years of smiles
if only forever
JUSTIN PIERRE
Motion City Soundtrack
It’s Hard to Be Spontaneous and Kickass…
every once in awhile however, I have what’s known as a “bright idea”. but, very rarely do I ever make it happen. “in the head” is always better than “written down” and “written down” is always better than “on television”. but, it’s so easy to flip the switch, turn the dial, sit down and kick one back. (it should be noted that “kicking back” often gets in the way of the “bright idea”). perhaps, that’s just the way of the “bright idea”. perhaps that’s just in my case. perhaps not. either way my �
�bright ideas” rarely see the “light of day” and no, that was not meant to be a reference to michael j. fox, but I can see how one might draw that conclusion. that said, spontaneity is so very important. yet, had it not been for the likes of raymond chandler, russell banks, neil gaiman, elmore leonard, phillip k. dick and woody alien, to name a few I may not have developed as quick a wit as some believe me to possess. little do they know, I still require the assistance of a dictionary to look up the big ones.
(written between the hours of 9:21pm. and 9:31pm. in toronto, Ontario on October 10th 2003 in the basement of the kathedral)
JON ORISON
Oris
Hades’ Shade
I woke up with a feverish pitch piercing my hidden mind.
Sweat dripping in slow beads from my helpless fear,
Guarding my sorrow through a wind blown night,
I felt a knock at a door unused in years.
A fence of tears mounted a barricade around movement,
Held in position to remember her.
To touch her uneven eyes with no candle light,
A dark trek into an unforeseen life,
No control and no sight,
Emotions played without ploys,
Only quiet tries,
Yelling whispers to the lonely nightl love her.