Tag Archives: Earth

True Evil Holds a Pen


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I am flirting with fire; from normality I had cold-feet. I am a kerfuffle of trouble, there’s no saving me now as I have mushroom-clouds for thought bubbles. They lacerate my world believing they killed me, I’m letting slip my dogs of war until they know me as a reformed super villain. Challenge Completed, Planet Earth; I’m spinning out-of-control, no fault of my own, I couldn’t keep hold. I’m a libertine shoulder barging my way through the captive creators; I’m writing on black paper in the dark.

No brain freeze or frisson, picking up lightening-bolts and throwing them at the pages of rapture I capture. This is merely reverie I reveal and unravel, I time-travel back and thwart all my enemies plans for me. I am no poltroon, I pollute pages personally I made it personal because I am no longer a person. The rain trickles down and washes away all my plights from my face, I change my mind and change my face and I am giving the world hell again, true evil is holding a pen. My calm levels are unstable, upon this page I have too much sycophantic horsepower, I bucking-bronco my way out from this web of life.

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In school, after Maths was English class where I jotted down my aftermath from the bullies pulley, I guess I’m pure vile and puerile, I’m not a Transformer I can transmogrify. Rambunctious to my soul’s battery core; setting my switch to self-destruction. A man can only receive so much failure in his life before superiority takes over his eyes focus. Insanity is a gift from the Gods; I wield and shield it against sanity.

This world sees what they want to see; I could have charming characteristics, suave and soigné, hats off to me, my undercurrent is currently a catastrophe. All passengers, we have a slight insurgence for turbulence and wizen, please, fasten your seatbelts and come join me within my plummet. Its drizzling green and yellow pills, I’m dancing in the pain, I jump in blood puddles and reappear in sky tunnels of bliss. This hurt in my head I play it over and over again, until a joker smirk arises on my face, I’m no longer insane, isn’t life splendiferous.

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Within my writing I cannot be a stentorian, so I must visual lies my memory video-taped life, transplant and transport all of my supercilious kisses of life, these pages are where my wishes go to find a place to die. This world should have boxed me in early, now I can create topsy-turvy from everything that profoundly promotes to hurt me. Here comes the valetudinarian again, turn away, don’t dare turn that page, it’s all of the same. I could be a beacon of silver-lining light, but the doctors beat my head in with a rock to keep me under it for eternity. I am a writer, this is what I do, keep bringing you words and I shall sit here and laugh at you.

This image was selected as a picture of the we...

This image was selected as a picture of the week on the Malay Wikipedia for the 44th week, 2009. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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My Chaotic Carvings


Chaotic logo

Chaotic logo (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I will no longer slave my thinking, a war upon sanity. Inflict hate when I elicit my illicit pen on all which are affectionate towards my bad black blood pump. One chance to rule this world, I am loosing myself within the moment of monumental moulded monsters I shall muster. No treatments I hand Earth, only disease ridden written miracles; I am mad for medicines. I refuse to stay sober, reuse my pain into reissuing myself another high. My instincts are primal but my guts are in knots, fight or flee?

Finally, I am taking a stand, staring at an ocean of people, a sea of waving hands greets me; I am looking upon my attackers. I was a sandwich sort of a picnic and lost myself in the woods, this is where I was hunted and haunted by these words and found this pen, just lying there, calling to me; now I unleash this pens inner anger character and release myself back into the wilds of vile.

I am dissociating myself from this plane of existence; it’s not meant for people such as me. Haven’t you ever seen a man floating from a page? Believe your eyes, I am omnipotent.

I have a heavy-duty headache, the voices want me to carve into my skull and wheedle out this worm, which sinks in its teeth into the little reality I grasp, so much so, I think I am going to die during sleepy-time. I’ve had enough; I am out of this world; point at the alien and be on your way. Systematically the darkman which lives within my mainframe flicked my self-destructive switch, so every swish is a wish or every scribble is literal, it’s quite simple, you should look past my dimples.

Kneel before my writing! I am singing to crazy, dancing frantically to the feared heartbeat you all own. Count your money, paint on your smiles; I know you are all scared of life. Panic on the streets, an army of psychopaths by my side, we’re coming for the Iron Throne. We come from the darkness to steal you light, I am my mother’s sun; she managed to raise hell in this house. My only cure now is not to dig my way out of reality but slash my way out from this page.

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The Mental Insanity of This Person, by These People, is for Those People and Shall Not Perish from This Earth


 

Writing insane

I’m bringing the straightjacket back into fashion; I am a radical mind-moulding designer.  No longer shall I solitary confine my emotions or sedate my madness, I will scream my demons throughout this night and keep the world awake. My warped mind is set for warp speed, there is no doctor out there who can talk to me; I’m a brick wall, it’s the same as trying to get blood from a stone. My temper flares and I shall rain fire upon this world whilst I am reigning in the fires of this so-called hell.

I’m taking over this asylum, the disturbed patients are now in charge; if you follow my demands you can have your brains back in one piece. I am the ultimate escape artist, I’ve lost myself and mind at the same time. Ramblings, babblings, salivating, crap flinging, raggedy sayings, tablet taking, mad at faces, I can’t take this.

I have insanity on my side, it is the only nightmarish dream I believe in. The mental insanity of this person, by these people, is for those people and shall not perish from this Earth. Craziness is my religion and I am the high priest of it all, worship the good book, my mental health report. I am a second-hand collector; I only hang around with people who are broken and damaged. Bring forth the tranquilizers, our drug and love of choice.

Darkness pic

We cannot halt our laughs at you sane people; screwball abnormal, zany walks of insane, true or false vocals, running around naked in the rain; Nap times with a needle, lock & keys are the parents.

Captured by my past, my memories have gotten me prisoner, remembrance is my murder, locked down forever.  I am torturing the rear of my eyelids; squeeze tight until a migraine takes my forethought away from this place. These are the voyages of my dark diaries days; scrawl my bawls when a tear comes to visit. I am trying to get my talent off the ground, carve an S on my chest and fly away in my head. Schizoid-man to the rescue!

Finding my shattered parts of me and pulling myself together, I am drowning in the recollections, my own life jacket has transformed to straight. This world breaks into my psyche until I am broken, listen out for the snap and observe the repercussions with thunderous percussions.  My darkness is coming, everyone run! I will be raining fire whilst reigning in the fires.

I’m not getting dressed today; my hands and feet are tied, sorry. Is there a doctor in the house? I guess I will treat myself.

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My Darkness Writes Rhymes


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MY DARKNESS WRITES RHYMES!

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Kill my thoughts before they kill again,

My souls holes picked locked,

With this wicked pen,

I have stricken men,

Pets, women and children,

I get vicious with them,

Because my hurt comes first,

This curse is the worst,

But first things first;

I’m taking off this blindfold,

Taking the name of a psycho,

Raising my followers as if I was the bible,

Pressing against this collarbone is my rifle,

Let’s get your ghost out of those dry clothes,

I’m spying on you through my motel spy-hole.

 

I am trying my hardest to bury this sin,

Swallowing a fistful of pills,

I’m merely practicing medicine,

Face droops and head-spins,

‘Til death do us part,

This will be my black wedding.

I’m ready for war, Bring on the drums!

Luckily for me we’re not men of the cloth,

Or we’d all have serious problem,

Alex you’re not regular anymore,

Counting the days on my calendar,

Fearlessness with the spellbinds I write,

My enemies I fight, I dissolve them.

Further into fiction,

Murder with my fingers tipped visions,

When my world stops turning,

Over the lines I’m killing.

 

Slit my write wrist,

Popped the tablets,

Incase you missed it,

Didn’t kick the habit,

Kicked off the blanket,

Shaking in my boots,

No fear factor,

Taking even more bad fruits.

In the eyes of the beholder,

I will be a memory,

So whatever happens,

Please, just remember me.

I’m traumatised from Earths frostbite,

Reading this? I got you cross-eyed,

Forced fed another lost life,

Living in a bombsite,

 Writing is my only foresight,

Superman putting on glasses,

Because in the land of the blind,

I’d rather be four eyes.

 

I fall by my will,

 And one day I know I will fall,

After all someone must hold onto this thunder-ball,

Peeking over the wonder-wall,

Tipple-tailing and somersaults,

Happy-slapping and handicapping,

All the worlds’ underdogs.

Fight this thought,

I’m a writer!

Blinded by these words,

A mad mans mind, the rise and fall,

I’m a silent pen crier,

Deep dark depth climber.

Weather calls for extreme conditions,

Heaven falls while we all listen.

I’m a jack of all trade,

I’ve got the rapid response late,

When my magma words roll this way,

My jagged bones stick out from my face,

And I’m still attacking my soul,

With simply a pencil and a page.

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My Insane Scribbling


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My Insane Scribbling

Stones spread well through-out the land, as the temperature has dropped with the weight of a brick. Tears will freeze on your face for all time to laugh and point at; within your graveyard museum, I am waiting forever. Left on my knees, you took my ability to move on, shuffle or walk. My screams work willingly; this pen will make me lose my mind, again, you were my teacher.

An indestructible idea is moulded from the clay of skin that you have left cracked with the bubbles of beneath. Everyone is nobody and I am an alien sent to Earth to take on the pain people prick onto me. My heart is an endless cave, footsteps beat with the dance of escape.

You look upon me as someone who is shipping nowhere but even an unknown voyage arrives at a destination.

Committed to this addiction now, something so beautiful turns quickly into death. Kaleidoscopes of vibrant pills turn the viewer into a handful of pills, which transforms into a mouthful; the results are in as a pill problem.

Everything is falling apart, I can see the bones of reality; eyes – flay all that is real to me. A problem is born again. I am lost within this mind, found within the madness of my words. I pelt my way from rejection letter to relationship rejection, hope to hopelessness, literary to literary agents, the night and its loneliness is what I am left with. I will hide above these murky clouds one day. I used to believe as a child that when it rained someone died, now even my beliefs are all lies. I am so resilient today; I make up my own stories to destroy your beliefs, lots of laughs.

My mother speaks on behalf of my subconscious to make sure my choices are no longer wrong. When will I put this knife down? Trying to put an end to this endless life. Drunk spits at my mirror reflections. Alex; pick-up your whiskey bottle, write your life-out and toast to death. Congratulations, you are now evil.  You can now let your soul fall from your mouth and lock it within a jar with no air; shake it and threaten it with fire.

I need a sharper knife. You have opened your armour, dumb-wittingly, within the moonlight show this world a beast along with your love with the same mouth. Howl at the sun so there is no more night-time. Spiral your fingers around your throat like a suicidal snake, keep hold of that dream. Lash another wrist, lash another. What came first within my life, time or death? Cannot have one without the other, I guess they come from the same cut. We shall see soon.

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