Schizervation

It's not a different bed 
it's not a separate river
it's not an alien head 
nor another bitterness

It isn't the same 
bed you made it
it's the same 
bitter stream 
you been drowning 
in since waking 
up in it fuming 

By cavernous 
nostrils I was 
the first to help 
sweeten the water 
with the arctic wind

I hear you loud 
and clear, is it 
raining outside 
or is there 
an assembly of 
micro-portraits 
falling softly

You'll never get 
farther than around 
the corner from 
your own navel 
with that sort of 
talk you realize

No, I'm asking you 
to tune in to 
the radio rain 
and let us know 
which channel we'll 
all be melting on

That would be a frequency 
beyond your understanding

I'm outstanding in the acid 
rain and loving it

Is your impervious nature 
a suit of armor you bought 
or did you make it yourself
I wonder naked 

Why don't you try 
it on but handle with 
care since I sure did 
put in a lot of work 
on that outfit there

I feel invincible 
now, so that's what 
did it, power mad 
popes couldn't keep 
it hidden it's well written

My divine neo 
alpha manifests 
as a self correcting 
text, it's taken 
generations 
to be expressed
no less 

I get that
what else you got 
besides standing by 
a lot forgive me for 
I have lapsed big time 

It's nothing a father's face 
is easily forgotten
because even in the wind 
sand grains never settle

It's ain't nuthin' but
except I take it you're 
intermittent to say the least
and don't tell me, here to stay

I was long gone 
before I even arrived 
on this scene, well I 
just finished evaporating 
had to split inside you

Now I am beginning 
to see the light 
coming through 
my computer screen 
and I can say that it's good 

Now you're starting to get it 
my good boy and remember
don't fire until you see 
their Googley eyes

And to this day whenever 
I stare into a mirror 
I am at a total loss 
as to which one of 
these two I am

That is exactly 
how I planned it 
from the beginning 
I am finally starting 
to realize after all 
these years

The Time of Anarchia

It is a time of frustration 
amid conquest, 
a time for killing bees 
in order to keep 
our lawns tidy and clean. 

A time when citizenship 
means tainting one's innocence 
with the complicity 
of mass suicide. 

A time when all 
one can do is wink 
and think "That's the problem 
though, isn't it? Thinking 
about it in the first place,"  

a time that is forever 
escaping us through 
the collective screen 
of our forgetfulness, 

a time to be echoed 
through the void 
after its own echoing, 

a time currently being 
lost to us all 
at an accelerating 
rate we are fundamentally 
incapable of keeping up with,  

a time bound to leave 
its imprint as yet another 
layer of electromagnetic 
radiation which woven 
into helps define 
the remainder of creation, 

in other words 
a time like any other 
to come or go before it, 

a time whose arena 
becomes the stage 
of our actions 
and their consequences 
here during this primordial 
moment we managed 
to capture for ourselves 
by our very definition, 

the solitary champions 
of existence, wallowing 
in this, the time of our lives, 

a time of shedding 
more than skin 
after we strip our clothes, 

a time of flensing 
and dismounting from 
our sure footed steeds, 

our bodies we have ridden 
this time wave upon wave 
our entire lives 
from the moment 
we were conceived, 

to our Mothers 
we have continued 
to occupy and further 
this time, 

a time of treasured visions 
behind the eyes of a dragon, 

a time of sapphires 
and tiger pupils 
held in locked regard, 

a time of regalia 
and innocence devoured 
wholly as in the instance 
of the anaconda preying 
upon the star-nosed mole, 

a time of rapture 
like any other 
and of a pain 
so unique and intense 
it blurs away altogether 
among the suturing 
numbness of the stars, 

a time to remember 
who we are and forget 
who we've become; 

the universal solvent 
performs its work 
on everyone, 

once upon a time 
when personality 
was exterminated 
in favor of efficiency 
and convenience, 

when fear of the dark 
was bred out along 
with the heart, 

where automated drones 
did not so much as spill 
a single teardrop over 
the prospect of the extinction 
of the bees, 

where gray skies unleashed 
radioactive rain upon a new 
continent of plastic, Anarchia, 

home for the formerly homeless 
and disenfranchised splinters 
of humanity, 

a time when oceanic travel 
was outlawed by every nation 
on Earth and pirates once again 
roamed the seas, naturally; 

it was a time 
for starting over 
and beginning 
new stories.