Poems By Me - Warning! Langauge & Angst

[rusty]

"Poetry by Icee
Dug up from Page Three.
Post some more please
Or I'll set loose the killer bees,
Cover you in honey,
and take all your money."

WoOt! I'm a poet and I didn't even know it...

[Rain]

Wow Sar. These are truly amazing.

[Icee]

"This is the end of the world as we know it"
The winds they howl a warning to all in their path, here comes the flood its rushing upon the streets, the heavy raindrops and the hail, beat upon roofs like the wardrums of old.

Take your children, your partners, and your precious belongings, huddle them all together and pray to the god you forgot about long ago, no response, no possible answer.

Standing in the dark upon hilltops that are lit up only by the lightning bolts that set fire to the sky, only one thing rings out so loud and true, this is the realisation, the truth you never had.

If the flames burning up the sky don't do it for you, look at the bright glow coming from the fear from each others understanding, I'm sure they call that fear, welcome to your final stage.

Don't take heed, move with haste, walk blindly through the rapids as your rapid end approaches, laugh, smile, radiate happiness, there is no more deceit, world peace has finally come.

I will be there. headphones in place. Replacing the destruction with the epic notes of song. I know you all understand that. Today we die with what we always lived for. It dies today, and tommorow doesn't come.

"Playing Russian Roulette With A Trigger Happy Manic Depressive"
We used to have hope, but now we know that it was nothing more than blissful ignorance. You are on the hit list and this will be your death. I never meant to fucking hurt you, I simply walked away. So far away. Too far away it seems. I’ve found another my dear. We will not be one when I venture back home. We will never be one again. I hope that splits you in two. Thank you for breaking my heart. I only ever wished we could be normal. I only ever wished... shut your mouth. Open your eyes. Normal. Are you sure that's where you want to go with this? Normal? Does not normal extend to boring? And does not normal define the bullshit you say you live for. Point the gun to your head. Pull that trigger relaying the signal to the empty chamber. Lost. Lost. Lost. LOST. LOST. LOST. They say you reach heaven when you die, I now know why, hell is other people. Hell is other people. Cease to exist now. The ultimate... negative? Or the ultimate positive? We spend our lives searching for someone, I bet you at death when we are alone in our minds, that we realise there was never anything anyway. I dare God to prove me wrong. Please, prove me wrong. Don't make me that joke that nobody laughs at where the punch line ends in self inflicted tragedy so beautifully linked to brutal homicides across town. Kill to stay alive. Die young to save yourself. Contradiction. I guess this comprehension is what you always said I never should have had. So blind. I didn't even have to hack at your skull in the dark hoping I’d land a blow in the vicinity of the sunken sockets which contain your eyes. You were always so blind. How brutal. Of YOUR SAVIOUR. To give you life with such a defect. Or perhaps he gave you life without the ability to see - the tragedy on earth - Mother Nature is that whore who wears cyanide as perfume. Draw them in, and slaughter. slaughter. slaughter. A lamb, the Slaughter, how many times has it been said before. Not nearly enough. Death. Have you ever watched a child inside a blaze? They'll cry and scream for their father, their mother, those who nurtured them. One day they will become independent, oh yeah, sure they will. The day that everything is annihilated and they are left alone. The difference between a mother and a child. The mother is left with no one to look up to for safety sooner. Watch this cabaret now, this rock and roll show. These drugs, are nothing more than what we used to believe in as hope. A weak form of belief. Without belief, what do you see? I see nothing. Nothing. I believed in you at one stage, but it was really just a hope that you believed in me. Hope is useless. My Blood is on your hands like that of a psychopathic serial killer taking lives simply for the joy of being in control of the world which seems to have forsaken them. My world never did them wrong, they were never a part of it. This world is only me, and I’m not lonely, I’m solitary. The only difference is the echo. The fucking echo bouncing from wall to wall in my skull. I guess I am lonely, but went insane telling myself that I wasn't. Shaking now, I wonder how they shook. Trenches dug in battlefields like in my mind. Bullets flying overhead like your words, and mortar shells laying waste like your silence. Silence is devastating. You are devastation. Your funeral would lead to my death. My funeral would be nothing more than my death. I have wasted so much, chasing after you, trying to live up to you, all for what I always knew was nothing. Who's still listening now? Are you? Really? That’s amazing; I’d give you a name if only I knew it. If only, you had a name. This is me doing anything you want. Seems I wear bracelets painted on with crimson, marked out in symmetry with razorwire. Look into the cockpit, at the pilot with blood pouring from his wrists across the auto pilot button. Malfunction, Mayday. Mayday. MAYDAY. A spiraling downfall into a picturesque mountain. Glass shards decapitating lovers lying upon warm rugs sharing body warmth so overwhelmed by galloping fireballs and a fallen blackbox. Screams. Awakening. Frightening. Screams. Crackling Transmissions into a black box that never existed as anything more than a device to make the crew and passengers feel safe. Black Box, Religion, Black Box, Religion. What a lie. You're safety net just got tangled and now you're plummeting towards the spikes I sharpened to make sure the piercing of your torso was clean, and hopefully not so painful that you go into shock and miss every riveting moment of your lovers demise. Will this end your search, for love? Will it teach you to never love again? I hope it teaches you nothing so that in three days you may rise again and I will once more enjoy your downfall. Shameless joy taken in another’s humiliation and despair. Schadenfreude. Where is my lady? Where am I? All hope was lost far before the nails found their place securely in the palms of your hands. Doesn't sound so brutal that way does it? Until you learn how they were bathed with your blood in that very position. Sex positions. Escapism. This isn't reality television, this is death, and this is destruction. Fuck you sick twisted pessimist. Didn't you see the way those eyes lit up. I'm sure you did, but you probably saw the mischievous smirk as well. Burn out. Burn the fuck out. Not fade away. We all fade away. As the memories and the stories of our lives are passed through our children along the ancestral line, many generations from now, we will be nothing more than a line and a degrading tombstone. Your way of life will in time be lost, severed, and decapitated from its place in a vicious society run by sex. Sex equals money. Money equals power. But Sex doesn't equal Power, because it makes you a promiscuous whore. There was a time when we spoke of serial killers, mass murderers, sociopaths, with fear and terror trembling on our tongues. When we dared not publish their brilliant masterpieces in the media. A copycat killer. A copycat killer. A copycat killer. Say it enough times and the ideas pop into your head too don't they? Tell me I’m not the only one. Not the only one who feels their spine ripping out of its place in their back and strangling them. How does that work... a limp body? Limp; Limp like your mangled face left me baby. Claudio just asked if you'll fuck him when you get back home baby? Should I tell him not to count his blessings, or should I take my discoloured machete to him until his shrill shrieks dissipate. I'll kill the bastard. Or I’ll let him wither away. What is crueler? He still dreams of those forgotten worlds. Every night he points that telescope to the stars and cries. Whimpers like a pathetic creature cornered by its end. Every night I stand right next to him and wish the stars they would implode. How beautiful the sight! The fireworks of a whole galaxy. Atmospheres utterly... - I’m lost for words. No I’m not. - decimated. I once decimated an entire army using only my thoughts. Only problem was I created the army in the same way. Using only my thoughts. We like to think we're powerful. We like to think we can do anything we want, be anything we want. That's what they said. If you put your mind to it, you can do it. If you think you can, you can. I think I could kill you, I think I could stop all of this. But for some reason I can't. For some reason I’m still just that gothic faggot. I'm still just your gothic faggot. How many people just got offended? How many people just had those words burnt upon their eyes? I paid a man to stab me in the fucking face, just so I knew what a blade felt like anywhere but in my back. One day when I spill my guts across this page, you will understand. The disembowelment. Entrails ripped clean from ones abdomen. I'll paint you a pretty picture right now baby. Look at the way the blood splattered across the wall. It looks like Love doesn't it? I hope it does. Otherwise I just ruined everything.

Body.
Crumpled - on the floor.
Head.
Smashed - against the wall.
Blood.
Painting - pretty pictures of lust.
Self.
Inflicted - that's a lie.
Whore.
You - no comment.
Who the fuck are you? I wish I could change the velocity of these words so you could hear the difference between the trembling whisper and the fiery screams. What sedatives have they given me today? In a room with boarded up windows, we seem like clichéd drug addicts. In a room with smashed windows, we seem like clichéd drug addicts. In a room with doors hanging off hinges, we seem like clichéd drug addicts. In a room filled with those 'broken hearts', we know we are clichéd drug addicts, because ours are far from beating. We're all clichéd drug addicts; just some of us know how to have more fun with our diseases. Spread them like the plague. Pestilence grows wings and flies away. Away? Never. Flies Upon. Upon all those who do not already know its curse, its name, it's legend. I met a new plague. Its name was Failure. 19 and a half reasons why I should quit. Give up. End it all. 45 chances and 25 of them missed. This is an old school western shootout and I just missed the barn but slaughtered all my own men. The traitor. The treacherous. The Dead and the Blasphemous. Over-capitalization again. Capitalist whore. Nihilist whore. Anarchist whore. Sadist whore. Masochist whore. Pick your death, mix and match, a nihilistic sadomasochist. That'll be $3.95, would you like to upsize it to Anarchist? A Mirror Means Nothing Until You Can Look It In The Face And See Nothing But The Failure You Have Deemed Yourself. Glass shards still in place manage to leave your eyes bleeding. They should be his. His eyes. Your eyes never wandered, slid from their track. But his, is your reflection the same in them? Do they look at you like they are supposed to, or perhaps they look at someone else the way they are meant for you. You’re the fire, and he’s fucking with you. I’m fucking with you. Don’t Fuck With Fire. Fuck you’re fire; it’s far from blazing now. A smoldering heap. Crumpled. Broken hearts are for fucking losers. Learn to deal with it.

Learn It. Love It. Live It.

Lie to me again you bastard. False conversations hide false dreams. Childhood memories break grown men. Trained for life. In what? Just walk away again, down the path to safety. Let your mind go on its own adventure back home, and may your body be taken along for the ride. You've lost your reputation and your integrity is blown away like the fallen leaves by the slight breeze on a long autumn night. Such imagery makes me jealous of the times when I still realised that the sun shone and that the air dropped a few degrees in the winter. The days when we could feel. The days when alcohol was there for fun, not just to drown the fucking sorrows. I drowned myself drowning my sorrows. Death By Intoxication. An alcoholic dependency that I brought upon myself. Now I’ll drown you. I hope you can swim so that you put up a fight. Or I hope that you can't, so I can throw rocks at you whilst you drown. In the end, you're merely a cheap form of entertainment that I won't remember for too long. Forget. Not Regret. Unlike you, who I am sure, will regret the disrespect you gave me. The day you gave me the watch with no hands, wrapped in the ribbon with the single stitched sentence, "I wouldn't even give you the time of day". Now it's time for me to end your day.
I guess I just lost it. All comprehension of what I was writing for, about... Why do we waste such time on things we'll never fucking understand. Another pen hits the paper and ink spills out the dreams of broken children like a broken hourglass slowly expelling its only chance at life. So fashionably late it will be turned upside down and everything will seem just fine again. No longer will I be haunted by a thousand shrill screams that echo your name through the endless maze of skyscrapers that we used to build this hell. This all ends when like my frail words the buildings collapse. Destruction is imminent. Destroy me now baby, gag and destroy me now baby.
Gag me with your perfume.
Like fire for a dry mouth.
Choking on your lies.
Dying for you...
Does it look good now? The way I’ve positioned our bodies to look like a murder/suicide which you committed. I am the victim. Witness relocation. Hide me from someone else, but don't hide me from myself. Hide me from my destiny, but don't hide me from my fate. Now to try another play on words about how the 'reign' has just begun and you will all be drowned under my iron fist. This modern age of disparity has just granted you with the curse of the minority. Attempt now to fit into a mainstream society so reliant on technologies which constantly fail them. How similar to the way we fail each other, fail ourselves. Look around you in this cathedral built upon the standards of early century architecture, how dark it is. The stained glass window blocking out most of the light so that the candles must radiate an eerie glow upon the corpses of a thousand slaughtered religious men. File in, two by two, one to each side and fill the pews. Hands bound in the form of a prayer, throats slashed and bibles soaked in the blood of brutal loyalists. Priests left hanging above alters, slit wrists dripping their blood into chalices filled previously by deceit. Take the cross, turn it upside down and spread holy water across the church. Burn. Watch it all whilst you sit so perfectly upright, posture as straight as the pipes of this organ that hisses like tortured Popes watching their nations fall through the depths of Hell. Burn. Kiss each individual on the forehead and close their eyelids. Seal their fate by lodging the blade blessed by a legion of murdered cardinals in their skulls. Not even the hope they had in their beliefs will stop the roof from collapsing and ending the career of another corrupt church. This is the outcome of God's ultimate plan. Humanity was his one desire. For a few minutes it existed, before lust overtook Adam and the end was put on paper with the blood of a lover. Too much power bestowed upon one creature. Investment of his perfect planet in a ferocious minded being we have grown to become. Apocalypse. Self portrait of the ultimate power. Looks so alike his ultimate plan. Will he release the hounds to recoup his losses? The despair faction flies free as the One and only gains his redemption. Weak shadows reminisce of the 1930's. "Back in my day". IT NEVER WAS YOUR DAY. This world is yours not his, and much to his dislike you simply occupy it until his angels smite you and his vengeance is complete. Redemption was far too weak of a word. Vengeance is all he wants.
We'll show him won't we.
We'll kill ourselves before he gets the chance.
What a fucking tragedy.
The last laugh.

Just like the Dead Corporate Men who stand on the metal beams of their newest skyscraper construction sites and question if they have what it takes to step off the end. Walk the Plank. Step after step upon swaying steel. Do they have the courage, the strength, the power, or are they weaker then their morals and loyalty. Embezzlement of millions in search of happiness through greed, and this is the consequence? A self made man, now self destructing. Imagine the newspaper headlines, the primetime coverage. Multi-million dollar business man found face down on the doorstep of the empire he built. Too familiar this seems. The starving millions crawling to your doorstep begging. Begging. Pleading. For Hope. For Love. For Life. For Anything. Take it all away. Impossible, you never gave it to them in the first place. When the peasant makes a mistake it means he can't afford to eat for a day, perhaps a week. When the middle class working man makes a mistake it means he loses a client and has to work harder to remain profitable. When you make a mistake, hundreds are fired, lives put into despair, distraught wives at home crying because there isn't even any milk on the table to spill. Who fires you? Who Fires You? Nobody. Fire yourself now, take the leap of faith and watch Gods' hands catch you only to slam you into the concrete harder than ever. It isn't much of a star upon the walk of fame, but this concrete will forever know your name, and you will forever be remembered, In Name and Blood. Last Laugh. You will become one of the ghosts that haunts the false fears of darkness. There is nothing in the darkness that is not there in the light. Yet the fear your imagination conjures up for your safety, for everything, still overwhelms you with its all important fallacies which leave you questioning your existence and your place in this world. Take the fear, turn it around, if it is imaginary, conjured up by your mind, then so is everything you fear. Therefore you fear nothing. The only thing to fear is fear itself. Fear is you. You are yourself. The only thing to fear, is yourself. How many others have reached this conclusion and figured that they were no match for their over manipulative mind. Multiple personalities lying to each other about the stability of one body, their vehicle through the passage of time travel.
Have you invented a machine to travel through time yet?
You Fools. You're already sitting in it.
Which one of your personalities was too stupid to realise that.
I sat down and talked to you the other day, which you I’m not sure. But you sure were wiser than usual.
You understood the controversy of breaking hearts and filming every aching moment.
Action Replay. I go after what I want.
You are no meaning to me. Deal With it.
Fucking Waste Of My Time, You Insolent Fool. You Superficial Whore.
When all superficiality is denounced and all you are left with, all you own, is yourself, you transcend the boundaries of possession and your heart is put back in its place within the human society that once more becomes all your mind is obsessed with, all your world is focused on. It is at this moment that all previous prejudice is denied and hatred for particular minorities, fear of particular minorities, becomes frayed as all the anger, all the rage, all the fucking hatred, is no longer aimed, but radiates against all. All within the proximity of your fingers which lust for safety through death, all those within arms reach, all that fall into your frail line of sight, blurred by overwhelmingly blatant narcissism which will only ever be brought to its end by nihilist beliefs. No beliefs, no questions, no answers.
Fall down and answer for me the question, who is there to pick you up?
Nobody for all their corpses are back at the monastery, their severed heads still watching all that dare to venture into their gaze. One man, wields the glinting sword which slices through the mist of confusion which the intellectual powers of the wise have grown to accept as an impenetrable field of the unanswered and unknown. The unquestionable, even. For each body in the courtyard of the church there is another religious lie removed from the mist and replaced by scientific fact we believe only because we can see the so called logic, which our minds mirrored by enduring fallacies have created for our eyes which view all upside down. Fact is fiction, and fiction is truth. All comes at a cost. And all it cost was EVERYTHING. No more, No more of these lies, No more, No more of these games, No more, No more of these words yet they still slide off your lips and the lack of linguistic talent you possess leaves me harbouring nothing but disrespect for you. I Despise You. Fucking Waste.
Of My Time. Of Her Life.
Your soul will burn in hell and her body will rot behind the bars and the razorwire fences. Guard towers watching over to ensure no more mistakes come from your hand. Death be with you now, or soon enough. Judged. For one single moment when you snapped. When it all became too much and the strong became the weak. When holding hands became powerless because hands were holding their own and begging for forgiveness and one more chance. Begging. Begging. It is one moment that makes a man. The single most influential point of his life. How others dare to remember him. How others dare to judge him in comparison to all the good things he's done. It is always the negative we choose. Glass half empty, glass half full, glass shattered and used to stab one self in the throat. Bleeding Throats, arteries torn and severed. The stabbing was more personal then the gunshot wound. Bleeding throats, the noxious gases overcoming the burning vocal chords as shrill sharp gargles are all that you can utter. Utter for me this, "Forgiveness".
Sorry about the empty promises.
I never meant to hurt you and now I can’t help but too look back upon the days and nights I spent with my heart in your hands and your life in mine. I guess this is the only way I can say thank you. I mean I hate you. I guess this is the only way I can say I hate you. That’s all you’ll ever get from me. Have you found Jesus yet, hanging on his cross, dying for you? Go save him now, he needs you now more than ever. Seems to be a recurring theme. Of need and want. What you need, you definitely want, unless you have it. What you want, you don’t necessarily need. Unless you’re an overly eccentric masochist lost in their spiraling world of creative deceit and the desecration of anything that stands in your way, no matter whom it holds importance too. You’d dig your own mothers’ grave up if it became another step on your staircase out of this hell which you do nothing but help to keep. Climb the piles of their burning bones and scream out over the streets, ‘the end, the end, the end’. Then drop your hope and hear it clatter on the ground. Face the truth and you will find yourself heading back downstairs to the room filled with the screams of a blind man tortured by his Braille which was replaced by a belt sander. Sit down at the old wooden table and stare straight into the demons eyes. You’re playing Russian roulette with a trigger happy manic depressives multiple personalities and you just won.

[Icee]

"I remember, but in time you wont"
The paper that I write this on will in time be rolled to form a cigarette which i will hold pursed in my lips and draw in much alike the way you drew me in, in an attempt to get the sensual taste of your sweet lips off of mine now left so longing to feel anything but lust over the superficial beauty i swear you are, and always were, a superficial phone call is all i ask for now, but why, whilst laying here on this mattress suffocating me in it's own insecurities and imperfections whilst staring into ceilings which seem to stretch on no further than the back of my twitching eyelids, but why, when the telephone chord, (which used to find it's place delicately wrapped around my finger whilst it disturbed the particles I breathe in it's twirling motion around the room much alike the way you used to twirl as you danced to interpol in your boxers around my room), is now wrapped around my neck and ripped from the wall in an effort to rip you from the walls of my mind, get out of my head.. get the fuck out of my head.. it's all I ask now, isn't this the way we always prayed that it'd never be, does that contradict itself? or did you just contradict yourself? How lost I am now in this spiralling degradation into the bottom of this bottle, cheap wine and cheaper sex, covered only by the stale stench of death as we drift into caffeine induced comas with another waiting cigarette and a lighter flickering in our fingertips.

[rusty]

Icee, I'm getting on a freaking plane to WA right now to hug you senseless, y'hear?

Awesome stuff. Dark and addictive. <3

[Icee]

Awh. <3 See you when you get here.