Mind Nomad Writing

…And as a united people we will rise on the backs of the uneducated. 

From their sweat a great nation will be nourished, rooted in their veins. 

From the strength of their hands our legacy will be built in permanence. 

From the fertile soil of poverty we will feed our country. 

We will give them a meaning that they can understand and then, from the blood they have spilt, we will fill the trenches while diplomacy stalls. 

Now this may come across as somewhat drastic or a little undemocratic but consider the cost. 

Sacrifice is required to maintain our rank on the top, and better to sacrifice their sons and daughters than our own. 

We must preserve our dream and the spine of our great society. 

Manifest destiny awaits our glorious arrival. 

From the bones of martyrs and patriots alike we will construct our empire.

What a gift we have given! 

Permitting them to leave a legacy.

#read-b4-itburns

this is the land of the free who chose slavery. an ever expanding suburbia built with strategically placed tombstones. your coffin is just part of the scenery. never mind the green in our eyes or the ink on our skin, we built this three car garage with integrity and the sweat on our brows. elastic lips. we’re impaled on our white picket fences. once friends, now business associates. just another conquest. steel and plastic name tags twist and form into the shape of a heart. socially accepted contortionist. every smile rhymes and every kiss hints at silver screen innocence. like riding a merry-go-round on the highway.

#read-b4-itburns

no sounds of life are heard on this open sea of mercury. the wind carries the groans of the dead. surface reflects solitude. each wave hitting harder. i am the daring captain of this vessel. sailing through the veins of treason, i clench the wheel in one hand and my skeleton in the other. in the calm of the ocean floor, the anchor dances with the reef. the cabin floods through the porthole. breathe freezes in my throat. hold tight to the sails, i see the sun rising. caught in the aftermath, our cries summoned the sharks. they circle as the fog swarms. i neglected the lifeboats on the shores’ safe keep.

#i am. Confront. OBEY. embRACE.

to a world that longs for the intimacy of 1,000 desperate arms and clings to their warmth. this is the end where the means are always justified and the status quo is our riot control. this morphine induced state of peace is our hallow legacy. death beats in my chest, with a framework crafted in the grave. how can this spineless creature hold onto so much pride? manipulation steals my love. art is now officially dead, binary code is all we will ever need. we make our beds on broken mirrors and wonder why our reflections are smeared with blood. we built this church in the rolling hills of La Mancha and don Quixote cares for our souls. in that distant land they only speak in tongues of idealism. if this is all we will be remembered for, then forget i even existed.

#i am. Confront. OBEY. embRACE.

we have backed ourselves into a comfortable corner. all threat has ceased and we have been reconciled to our creator. we lifted our hands of despair in a medical prayer and the prescription was fulfilled, the remedy discovered. the revolution waiting to be sparked by our pentecostal tongues was stifled by our platonic throats. my conviction belongs to the stoics in the valley below. the devil and i discuss matters of faith while the ADHD war deploys reinforcements in my chest. anorexia exposes my ribs while nervosa hunts in the forefront of my mind. i have become a stranger in my own skin. if i could bury my head any further into my hands they’d be a grave. i have withdrawn to sharpen iron bars to keep the casualties to a minimum. these safety precautions have become my cage and the crowd passes a sympathetic glance in my direction, the way they would look at wild animals trapped behind glass or indians on a reservation. some are so ashamed that they can’t even bring themselves to look. this has become too much for me to handle alone. the cap invites a swift twist to loosen and to restore peace with one handful.

#read-b4-itburns

majestic beauty, floating on air with each step. she hides pearls behind that glossy red gate. her silver, starry eyes hide secrets she’ll never tell. black hair falls innocently in her face and casts a shadow of inner serenity. her red dress still burned in my retina. a form brushed elegantly with purity. how did such a delicate mother give birth to these crippled leeches? beauty with millions of decrepit children. with eyes, but stitched shut. with ears, but no brain. with a mouth, but no voice. a spinal column, with no vertebrae. knots of interwoven bone, with no feeling. dressing in robes and armor. to hide the tangled web of black, pulsing veins beneath. they pretend to be more than a mere passenger-seeking parasite. they call for their masks. Their hollow screeching deafens her. never the same. a new mask for every occasion. they have no identity, they have no need for one. every mask burning hotter. every mask cutting deeper. every mask sears and pierces flesh. faces shaped and reshaped. welcomed deformity. celebrate tonight. for the gallows await the morning. prepare the guillotine! we will paint the streets red. sterilize the needles. expectant mother prays for miscarriage. our great walls will fall. our swords, broken at the helm. arrows reign the skies. our city stands in ruins. an insatiable fire consumes our dreams. crops turn to dust as livestock feast on the farmer. if this is our baptism, then we all shall surely drown. renaissance arrives! the cradle holds hope. you expect me to lead this deathmarch! i’m as guilty as them. but the glorious mask will put an end to all that.

#read-b4-itburns

manipulate every breath. control every heart beat. framing pictures of eclipses. white fades. days blur. salvation in aisle four. arms race to redemption. american dream or second hand nightmare. industry swallowed improvement. i will lead the funeral procession before the parade. fulfilling my postmodern meaning. bask in pious pride or bathe in a moral massacre. i feel the wind and hear the leaves blow. but all i see is glass and cement. i am blind past the branches. you are the air in my throat. but i will trap you in my chest. we will bury simplicity under a stage.

#read-b4-itburns

a forest. dark. unfamiliar.
a shoreline. quiet. motionless.
no city. no ripple.
a fire. a flood.

#i am. Confront. OBEY. embRACE.

strike up the band, i can see the procession of needy sinners. it’s time to make a masterpiece! take a number, you can keep your coat but leave your brain. conformity in the form of a killer. we leave when our dreams lay lifeless on the floor. the great lizard waits patiently outside. his eyes burn the morning sky and fire pours from his lips. with one bite he will expose a maze of bones and spill the flowing seas contained inside. i’ll kiss your bite marks while toxins rush to your heart. but please don’t bleed on the carpet. make a hole in the roof and let the snow gather inside, a monument of perfection. a symbol of our souls! but oh how quickly it melts! i would gladly stretch my hand out to the broken-hearted widow on the sidewalk. just make sure the bright flash of your camera embraces my silhouette.

#i am. Confront. OBEY. embRACE.

in a society built by caffeine and machinery we raised a generation of poets. 

send them to war.

#read-b4-itburns