OgenB

He knows he's a joke but he is playing it straight This game that he is dealing is shuffling spades and he'll go down as this clown digging his grave He had no ideas so he had them made no morals to call his own so he borrowed them on tape he is a fool of no notoriety or shape but believes his gospel still applies to his side That he is in the right so he'll fight for a cause with his light Does he not see the evil at his roots? Claims he's an angel when really he's a brute. He puts on his best suit when he lies its a reprise of another time when he claimed to hate his current allies. Just another direction to reduce the reflection in his e

I climbed the mountains, slept upon the rocky ground and on that bed of gravel, the stone held my head like a pillow of down, like a pillow of down. Carefully crossed the crags slowly descended cliffs, through all that hardship could never have guessed that this would be my bliss, This would be my bliss. Now in bluebonnet fields, the peace that I feel is the unsettling sound of my heart going down, down, now. Behind the pale curtains in this quiet home the sun's making mimics of the shadows I've come to know, I've come to know. Now in bluebonnet fields, the peace that I feel is the unsettling sound of my heart going down, down, no. I hav

​The autumn leaves catch the breeze left in Summer's end, Serving to be roses amidst the knot which we now thread. The golden petals sprinkle down from their wooden homes Speaking of love and loss and bonds made in stone. The decay of this season is but detention of patient seeds Covered in the dirt of winter, waiting for the spring. So in a wild wonder we spy this seasons birth A summons of change and joy laid upon the earth. As these leaves upon the trees catch the fire of setting sun; So too do our hearts alight to hear the song of love you have sung. On this night scene there is not a brighter star in the sky Than that which canno

I am a tale of vengeance riding across the lands seeking you out through the burning fire sands Whispers of you have traveled through the earth and I am here to reclaim you for the dirt. Your victims have cried into my open ears and their sorrow is mine I'll hold it while you die And who am I? You say? Oh, just who am I. That you face your judgement day. Well I am your worst fear just a face lost in the scene. You won't know. No. You won't know until I've got away clean. Because I am absolutely no one. No one you have seen. You won't see me lost among your memories because I am absolutely no one I am just a dream but don't forget that

Strange stumblings summoned something simmering sinnfully Under unbidden utterances, unifying unforgotten yet unloved; meaningful, meandering, malicious... memories. Made manically in times tedious torpor. Tender, tough, thoroughly in love. Lost longings, largely languished. But still a flame, to be stroked to a pain. By surprise breath of seeing a face.

I detoured through the minds night. Walking honeycombed halls soaked in memories dripping like burnt wax dipped from muraled ceilings of harrowed painted figures welded with the power of their time. Pondered with ravenous eyes, upon those ruinous caverns, which wandered among the shame. That these templed rooms should still stand, without worship, in spite of the reckoning teeming from my lips. Trembling I crushed myself against any pillars that were tenacious enough to bear the wrath stained rooms. The fire mopped through my heart's once potent desires, all that is unmaimed in this mired hall of soul and charred potential is but a flat

Everything big is also small. We've heard its call, our rise and our fall, our you's and our he. is are I's and we me's. It flows and floats, bobs and weaves fast and tall, slow and small we are nothing and all. We shape to the songs of our day, Every cash register to a phone ring emboldens a different action to this universe beholden. Echoed in music and dance, symbols entranced and evoked in emotion so strong it bent bones into a pose. It encircles our lives and to the rhythm of our highlights and demise It echoes and erodes, it flows and it floats, weaving and bobbing up the ladder from us. to the toppest tops that ever were the bottomes

My best thoughts happen in napkins. Where I can dress in any old fashion, and not one could care, for they would not even dare to challenge their fashionable captain. Napkins keep my mind clean, to invent a most inventive thing. Like a robot that talks, and runs on gross socks which of course are all grody and green. I'm in desperate need of a pen, for jotting this down now and then, but in this dimension of napkin perplexion ink is considered a sin I decide it is time to go home, where my thoughts can leave me alone. But I will be back, for an intelligent stack of those dear white things which keep your nose clean, to be