Ich lüge Bullets

After all these lives one thing remains glaring and residual but still unsaid by the circled masses
whispers hidden under breath warbled behind closed doors
pointing the finger at the others hands
fearful judgement
a climbing ape being weighted with blind grips of other lost dreams
craving burgers and everyone to be their way
all these lives revolve to this center core
the self diminishing self for the sake of a shiny smile
laughing as the child spares the rod to forget the muse
trying to remember just how the majority rules
caring eyes steering the barge of fools
anchoring lives to substandard stools
branding themselves king of the lunch hall
because it’s all one big primary school
all these lives frowned upon from closing doors with cackling open windows
always outside
cursing the horrible clashing drapes

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Bricks Dont’ Hit Back

Long before the days of the infamous blue tooth it was rather common to see people around the city folks talking to themselves
lamposts
bus stop,fire hydrant or the just a plain old allyway brick wall
i never understood the logic behind it even though i would try to wrap my sober more often clouded brain around it
maybe were they turning down jobs as new prophets id’ never know
as of the other day i think i have it nailed down after watching the sunrise with one of my neighbors talking to the bench he lives on
these inanimate objects being yelled at have seen more in their existence than we might possilbly ever see
listening to the dark secrets
they dont’ judge
misconstrue
misuse
there is no defragmentation of the truth into what they would like to hear
they do not secretly plot what they are going to say whilst you are talking
nor do they hold on to words in times of compassion only to catapult them back for their own use or gain
concrete will at least retain moisture for a short time if cried upon
alot of us have been talking to walls our whole life without ever noticing
playing telephone answering our own echo through that rusty tin can who should be listening
on the other end
next time you see a building being torn down or a lampost run down by a car they might be someones only confidant

Old Haunts

i have an old friend of mine that i do miss terribly from time to time he is definitely high ranking in the army of assholes i know and trust
to know him well is to love him
if i heard liam yelled blocks away i could tell you it was him
he is an aficionado of hideout bars,good books as well as dark humor which brings the jokes rolling along after at least one pint
bad jokes from old mens mouths at two in the afternoon falling off a barstool
most of us have heard them all
as for the seriously uncalled for ones they are easier to remember even staring through a pint glass
the looks of anger get worse as i recite the punchlines as he does or all of us in unison
as the beer flows so do the jokes forgetting that we know the lot of them
the later the clock smiles and the louder the jukebox gets
we still see them coming
its just not funny anymore
the badly timed punchlines
its really not fucking funny this early in the morning or late at night
i know the schtick already
get fucking over it
that goes for you too