BTRIPP (btripp) wrote,

Isn't it just a SWELL life?

Oh, just in case you were wondering what was referred to in the second stanza of the poem below (tucked ever-so-obligingly behind an LJ-cut tag), here's the little ditty that's be going through MY head of late:
                    "Brain, brain, go away,
                    we don't want to be insane,
                    watch the blood swirl down the drain,
                    kill, kill, slaughter, slay!"

Ah ... yes ... it's like that up there. Such a nice day outside, such a dark and bloody hell inside.

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                    NONE CAN READ THE SYMBOLS

                    the rage erupts,
                    a geyser of hatred
                    at the outside;
                    we can not exist
                    within their world,
                    we can not adapt
                    to the mindless demands
                    of a sleeping mass

                    we warp the songs
                    of innocent days
                    to fit this madness
                    "brain, brain, go away..."
                    but none can read
                    the symbols buried
                    beneath the veneer
                    of simple sarcasm

                    too many hours are set
                    in thick burning bloodlust,
                    in vivid fantasies
                    of anger unleashed,
                    on vengeance taken
                    upon the random
                    and on the guilty
                    of mundane attacks

                    I am so sick
                    of being the victim,
                    target of despising worlds;
                    I ache to be the villain,
                    spreading retribution
                    in my horrid wake,
                    casting wide a darkness
                    that none of these yet know

                    but ancient pacts
                    still steer the soul,
                    we are seeded by the light
                    and can only enter grey
                    in action just so far;
                    this putrid world presses on,
                    driving us to monstrosities
                    still not within our nature

                             - Brendan Tripp

                    Copyright © 2002 by Brendan Tripp

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