Mumbled Confessions of an Old Man


We never hesitated before inflicting evil
Always second guessed good intent
Communication isn’t real in any nation
A wide window of oppurtunity presented
Itself to this carcass riddled soil
None sees a good way this could play out

Relying on one another is a lie

Only the piercing words are heard
If there isn’t a bullet involved
No action sees reward
The word has been spoken loudly
It was too pretty to be beared witness
They could never live prideless


Beneath the lake, beyond the treasures
Lies a cunning snake, a spirit dangerous
As it is curious, it is wise

Misery is a mystery to the ones that worship
Word is the relief, an ideal followed by many
Understood by none

What matters the venom or the poison?
Do we bite the or get bitten?
What matters the truth to them?
They have followed only what we showed
And we’re supposed to apologize now?
For turning our rightful anger to a weapon
To stab their ego full of air

The snake is still a snake
It rests under the lake
It’s survival is for his
Even if it could grant anyone a wish
It would blow the candles itself


Ripping off these masks from each others faces
We’re so over our boundries it’s breaking defenses
But numb, senselessly we walk through one anothers doors
Locks are broken with a hammer, regard for privacy isn’t the talking matter

Feeling light after we squeeze these confessions
From deep beneath, from places shouldn’t be visited, not twice
There are no footsteps in the snow, we are the first ones
To demand the truth from each other
Taking the weight off and facing mirrors is a curse
Wrapped as a present


If only we could skin this animal
And fashion nooses from eachother, for ourselves
The witches in my bed are riled, and sucking me dry
Determined to fend for myself, but i left my teeth on the sidewalk
Where creases in the concrete unveil the heart of the city
Twin posters rule, underground
And the merciless drones always protect this hive
It was much to chew on

Battered spouses litter the streets
Towing Laywers for miles, outside the courthouses
Tangled messes of childhood and adolesence to be distributed
All their screaming is festering in bleeding ears
“Think of the children” they mutter, under bated breath
Think of children, and holy verses, scribbled in bathroom stalls
Of ruined ideals, empires and dead ideas
Think of flowers blooming from a mangled corpse

And so the angels and the devils are dancing again
Nestled deep in our craniums, seeking new victims
Stab it, so it bleeds, or hug it till it dies
Hardly any motivation is needed for our next orgasmic feat of violence
We’ll feed on whatever carcass is left, at the end of the day
Soiled in pride from the last kill, we grip our erections just a little tighter
The thrill of still standing, with our vast coastlines and shimmering horizons
The greatest of the great apes, from cradle to grave


Steer all the cats away from mirrors
For they may be two all of a sudden
They may fall ill and evil they may summon
In their most wicked dreams, they are the killers

Don’t play with your hair as if it belongs to you
Little creatures may fall out with little eyes
Don’t let them sing their lovely songs to you
For you shall end up the only one who cries

Steer the cats away from the tiny creatures
Don’t let them look eye to eye
Mistake my words not with a preachers
You will understand pain when you hear their battle cry

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1 Response

  1. Micheal dedi ki:

    A very beautiful poem is dark and gloomy.

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