Monday, April 5, 2010
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Friday, November 13, 2009
Jealous Punk
Jealous Punk
Empty your heart of its mortal dream
To be like the gods in all glory
Infinite power and blessed grace
Rise above the mundane
Embrace the sacred and holy
Your image illuminating my mind
The slumber of darkness waits
Standing alone as in the beginning
Bringing the flame of divinity
Becoming like God, closing the gap
Removing all weakness from the flock
Darkly placed upon my eyelids
Poor, tired, wandering fool
Sold for a fleeting chance
My words sent forth
To reap what they have sown
Gather up the fruits of time
Mighty walls stand before me
Raised up by my free will
Testaments to my stubbornness
Victims to my crimes
Like fallen tombstone left to decay
Forgotten souls of the living
Recognize the devils that surround you
Remember how they tormented
Betrayed by your recollection
Justified by self-righteous fever
Your mind a lethal weapon
Its all about survival and space
Sending it all back around
A soulless, jealous punk
Rules made to be broken
An all together different game
Me up on the highway
Sure I’m out there
Standing there like Satan
The biggest dog on the street
Hiding in the bottomless pit
2007
Empty your heart of its mortal dream
To be like the gods in all glory
Infinite power and blessed grace
Rise above the mundane
Embrace the sacred and holy
Your image illuminating my mind
The slumber of darkness waits
Standing alone as in the beginning
Bringing the flame of divinity
Becoming like God, closing the gap
Removing all weakness from the flock
Darkly placed upon my eyelids
Poor, tired, wandering fool
Sold for a fleeting chance
My words sent forth
To reap what they have sown
Gather up the fruits of time
Mighty walls stand before me
Raised up by my free will
Testaments to my stubbornness
Victims to my crimes
Like fallen tombstone left to decay
Forgotten souls of the living
Recognize the devils that surround you
Remember how they tormented
Betrayed by your recollection
Justified by self-righteous fever
Your mind a lethal weapon
Its all about survival and space
Sending it all back around
A soulless, jealous punk
Rules made to be broken
An all together different game
Me up on the highway
Sure I’m out there
Standing there like Satan
The biggest dog on the street
Hiding in the bottomless pit
2007
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
suicide
Suicide
I thought of killing myself today
got my gun from the closet
I hide it way in the back
under old shoes, shirts, and other shit
meaningless stuff that gathers dust.
I pulled it out and looked at it
all shiny and clean
it’s a symbol of something
what?
I forget …
I look around the house
searching for my bullets
remembering a routine from Cheech & Chong
where else, up his nose!
I find one in a coffee cup
filled with pens and pencils
and other more meaningless shit
like a stir from a bar
the night we met.
The bullet is jacketed
works best in an automatic
roll it a round in my hand
smooth and cold to the touch
such deadly precision.
You’ve got to admire the bastard
the workman
who invented such an efficient machine
I wonder if he ever thought
of using it in such manner?
I eject the clip
and insert the bullet
slam the clip back in the handle
click, click, clack
the sound of determination.
Cock the gun
and hold it to my temple
and I wait …
and I think for a minute …
What should I do?
Are things really this bad?
Would anyone miss me if I were gone?
Would anyone care?
Would anyone cry?
Would I be missed?
I gather up my resolve
and I press the metal had against my flesh
one more time
a strained look is on my face
I am oh so determined
to do myself in.
But, then I stop
I put the gun down
by my side
and I tell myself
no, not this time
not right now
maybe latter.
There is always later …
A flood of guilt washes over me
and I eject the clip
and remove the bullet
place it back in the cup
rushing down the hall
to place the gun back in the case
and hide it under all that stuff
A sigh of relief
not this time
maybe tomorrow
for sure later …
© Deep Piercing Cut 2008
I thought of killing myself today
got my gun from the closet
I hide it way in the back
under old shoes, shirts, and other shit
meaningless stuff that gathers dust.
I pulled it out and looked at it
all shiny and clean
it’s a symbol of something
what?
I forget …
I look around the house
searching for my bullets
remembering a routine from Cheech & Chong
where else, up his nose!
I find one in a coffee cup
filled with pens and pencils
and other more meaningless shit
like a stir from a bar
the night we met.
The bullet is jacketed
works best in an automatic
roll it a round in my hand
smooth and cold to the touch
such deadly precision.
You’ve got to admire the bastard
the workman
who invented such an efficient machine
I wonder if he ever thought
of using it in such manner?
I eject the clip
and insert the bullet
slam the clip back in the handle
click, click, clack
the sound of determination.
Cock the gun
and hold it to my temple
and I wait …
and I think for a minute …
What should I do?
Are things really this bad?
Would anyone miss me if I were gone?
Would anyone care?
Would anyone cry?
Would I be missed?
I gather up my resolve
and I press the metal had against my flesh
one more time
a strained look is on my face
I am oh so determined
to do myself in.
But, then I stop
I put the gun down
by my side
and I tell myself
no, not this time
not right now
maybe latter.
There is always later …
A flood of guilt washes over me
and I eject the clip
and remove the bullet
place it back in the cup
rushing down the hall
to place the gun back in the case
and hide it under all that stuff
A sigh of relief
not this time
maybe tomorrow
for sure later …
© Deep Piercing Cut 2008
Friday, September 25, 2009
frana
Frana
Frana whispers a prayer
in case shit goes bad
she fingers the beads around her neck
moving in silence
a total disregard
for the rules and conventions
her best is never an agenda
she sees so much more than I
into the mouths of open doorways
they open for with ease
so little effort for her success
grown accustomed to the sounds of revolution
she frees a man she has never known
steady in the house of rage
I know my money has been well spent
as I wander eastward toward heaven
pour your wind through me
hold me close to your warm heart
let me see life once again
of only for one night
I am the hermit who rises in the morning
and leaves your door
with the promise of new hope
I fall faster than the cracking shade
down I fall into the tempest
surrounded by the whirlwind of desire
pray for my lost soul Frana
maybe I will find mercy
someday
Frana whispers a prayer
in case shit goes bad
she fingers the beads around her neck
moving in silence
a total disregard
for the rules and conventions
her best is never an agenda
she sees so much more than I
into the mouths of open doorways
they open for with ease
so little effort for her success
grown accustomed to the sounds of revolution
she frees a man she has never known
steady in the house of rage
I know my money has been well spent
as I wander eastward toward heaven
pour your wind through me
hold me close to your warm heart
let me see life once again
of only for one night
I am the hermit who rises in the morning
and leaves your door
with the promise of new hope
I fall faster than the cracking shade
down I fall into the tempest
surrounded by the whirlwind of desire
pray for my lost soul Frana
maybe I will find mercy
someday
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Dear Prudence
Dear Prudence
Cursed are the compassionate
Revealing their weakness
Tears behind contempt
Everything is the opposite
Has long been the source
Holy flame of spontaneity
Dumb frittered indulgences
Time froze by power
A glimpse behind the curtain
Oddly Spectral avatar
Mixture of enthusiasm and despair
Prostituted prophet of discontent
2007
Cursed are the compassionate
Revealing their weakness
Tears behind contempt
Everything is the opposite
Has long been the source
Holy flame of spontaneity
Dumb frittered indulgences
Time froze by power
A glimpse behind the curtain
Oddly Spectral avatar
Mixture of enthusiasm and despair
Prostituted prophet of discontent
2007
dancers
Dancers
The same as it ever was
This thing that still haunts us in the cold dark night
As time starts and stops without reason
Seemingly little happens
Among the weasels and red carpet beggars
The tired dancers working for pennies
Willing weary legs to move
Not to the music but to their beating hearts
Each one dances to a new song
Tempos, one step at a time
We all ask ourselves, when will the music stop?
They say they need a cigarette break
A short time to recompose
Recombining their collective energies
Selling them to the small local store
Dollars they earned in the war
Where dreams are sold in exchange for dollars
Selling chocolate to prisoners
Writing letters to their wives
They told old stories about long lost buddies
That fell before the shrine of world war
Bleeding for democracy
Video commercial, being the just cause
They bleed for you one drop at a time
© 2007 Glen L. Lantz
The same as it ever was
This thing that still haunts us in the cold dark night
As time starts and stops without reason
Seemingly little happens
Among the weasels and red carpet beggars
The tired dancers working for pennies
Willing weary legs to move
Not to the music but to their beating hearts
Each one dances to a new song
Tempos, one step at a time
We all ask ourselves, when will the music stop?
They say they need a cigarette break
A short time to recompose
Recombining their collective energies
Selling them to the small local store
Dollars they earned in the war
Where dreams are sold in exchange for dollars
Selling chocolate to prisoners
Writing letters to their wives
They told old stories about long lost buddies
That fell before the shrine of world war
Bleeding for democracy
Video commercial, being the just cause
They bleed for you one drop at a time
© 2007 Glen L. Lantz
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