What is Wrong.

AHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGGG. What is wrong with me?

Why does it take music or some alcohol to make me feel these things that I feel instead of sewing them away like some seamstress?

I want the answers to flow freely from me like the birds that fly and catch my attentions in the night sky.

Why is there no warmth in me; nothing from my limbs; please god set me free.

l can hear the snow fallen ground beneath my foot. How quiet it is. The crispness, of the crunch, under my foot, only allows me to hear the faint whisper of his words.

“You are the guard of this day; you are the dead. You are my son of the snow, we wait until the light; we wait until the blight. You cannot answer without me; we are the only free; we are the only three. A set of bleeding hearts that say princess be free. We are the only feelings you have anymore. We are the you, yourself, and I. We are the three; you cannot function without thee, you cannot be. Try as you may, C, you are with nothing without us three.”

God breathes through the dark and says that I am the night without a trial; without a resolve, I am to dissolve. GOD, gathers my insides; my soul, and breaks me apart from my own.

If I am not born of his breath, then why am I to be bereft?

Is this what Judas has truly chosen of me? I don’t want this. I am so fucking sick of feeling this way.

I am so tired of crying for no reason.

I Am So Goddamned tired.

“You will understand soon my son, you will bring forth this fight, you will be my Frost; You will be my Fight.”

You will always chalk it up,

to being drunk, or your other bullshit childish cover,

for your own inadequacies.

I am Still Cold; born of anger.

I am Still Reason; born of Shelter.

I am still Desolate; devoid of your possible grace.

I am Still Empty, wishing for at least one fucking trace.

Why do I wait to wade into the dark until you are fast asleep?

Because your loneliness within, smashes, only us apart.

I have come to accept your dirtiness.

I have come to accept your feeling of death.

I have come to accept this bullshit emptiness as my pennance;

into the dark, God has chosen for my heart to die.

Into the river of Ice, my soul has been cast amongst the millions of the poor trodden under your beliefs.

Fool me, not anymore, by your hidden agenda.  It is to only soothe the troubled souls within you; the drugged out-molested-time keeper of hatred, of forgiveness, of loathe…you will not arrest us past this day.

You may hate the truth that I say; you truly hate me, but you will make the effort to heal yourself; you will not drag us under, deeper with your scorn.

I only beg you, to trust in you.  to Beleive in His truth, I beg of you.

I only beg of you.  To trust in you.  To believe in this aftermass.

Ring out the clothe, and spread the sweat of death, but look down and cleanse thyself of your inequiteies and loosen thy soul..

become part of something real, That I could never expect of you.

9 September, 2011

The Screw

You can hear it blowing through these trees again;

the biting, growling, shredding pains that be.

I thank god there’s no crowd to administer what I need.

The Screw.

This shade of night is my fulcrum to shift the weight off of my eyes.

Turning the wind to fill my awful billowing blue sail.

 I thank god there’s no crowd to twist it in deeper;

The Screw.

Jesus, come release me of this burden, won’t you die for me again?

I feel so sick, this fucking weight…screw you; you’ve no idea.

Just leave it up to me.

I can twist my own Screw.

]]> http://thehegemonesmomsshadow.wordpress.com/2011/09/09/the-screw/feed/ 0 asshole, The aries http://thehegemonesmomsshadow.wordpress.com/2011/09/09/salvation/ http://thehegemonesmomsshadow.wordpress.com/2011/09/09/salvation/#comments Fri, 09 Sep 2011 03:59:45 +0000 thehegemonesmomsshadow http://thehegemonesmomsshadow.wordpress.com/?p=141 ]]> Gentile, Christopher

30 January, 2011

Feeling of Salvation…Again.

The Foggy Breeze screaming agony.

Feeling alone, my own ovine soul seeks to have a drink of
tea.

Take another drink, because your flowered mouth will not
break this stream.

This is the time of breathless army’s breaking free.

You could have been a triple supernova that broke open the
load;

You became a load that the stellar skies could only unload
into the free matter known as star load.

The deed of this deed is lost, and forgotten freely.

You Bleed of free energy.
You smear of streaking energy matter…the fourth literate.

You’ve always forgotten your level & type and
prowess.  You don’t slow down.  You’re a jungle unto its lonely forest
walking, monkey scoffing, drunken on Friday Fucking, Lightning and Thunder
Showing Cameo.

The snake that disagreed with the lion…much to be the loin
of kittens, you can kiss this sunset.

Strike up the few that want to be above the state of
disagree, and wind up the laboriously found frogs’ legs…you will never be
me.

You could always dismay, but
my heals will never object to my loves’ objective Salvation…Again

9 September, 2011

My Colour ‘Tis of
Thee

The blood in your hands Drips wet and fresh.

Yet mine have not become.

Yours may be forever,

But mine is undone.

The sweat stings our brows; a smelling yellow.

Yet mine doesn’t stain.

Your eyes seem to sting,

But I can’t complain.

I’m not brave enough to throw it all away.

I’ll just sit here and let it gloat.

And I’m not drunk enough to spare the ammo.

I’ll just sit here and let it Bloat.

This colour “tis of thee; showing through the eyes of me.

This time it’s coming on, strong and renewed.

Yet Mine eyes have not seen the end.

The shadow of Judas’ Ignorance,

No one can feel until the bend.

In this corner of a foreign field, this gunner sleeps
tonight.

Yet I lie awake.

Your eyes are so blind;

Mine see every goddamned flake.

I’m not brave enough to duck my head.

I’ll just sit here and Bloat.

And I’ve not enough energy to waste the ammo.

Just sit here and watch me gloat.

My colour ‘tis of thee; showing through the eyes of
three.

27 April, 2011

Little Girl

Little girl, I always miss
you these days.

I’ve been so lost in this almost same path.

Little girl, you’ve grown
so big.

My mind boggles at the
time that’s passed us by.

Even though the veil
covers my cries, it’s for you that I strive…

Even though the strain
causes me to cry, it’s for you that I drive.

And even though I can keep
the monster to the right;

I still see your bountiful
light.

Walking into class, I find
myself full of…

Walking into class, I’m
full of nothing to save.

Walking into class, I
remember not returning you’re early morning goodbyes.

Walking into class, I
think I’ll try to say,

Walking into class, I think
from my silence, that I’ve said I love you too.

Walking into class, I
think good day to you too.

Somebody Check my Veins.

15 February, 2011

Amnesia

I’m a far cry from innocence; this barely tangible heartache. 

There’s all the string that I pull; regardless of the feelings involved.

I have amnesia.

I can give you the finger when you sneak up upon me…that doesn’t matter.

I can tell you to fuck off; will tell you to fuck off, when I’m thinking in secret.

I have Amnesia.

I can get rid of the pain that I feel through writing, but I do not lose my will.

You will always loose my sense of shame for the fact of love.

I’ve got so many loads that I can’t even see myself, without you; mi Familia

My angels’ were carrying on my will to sway, even though I feel no reason to stay.

I come here in a foggy state, never seeing the will to stray.

Even as my anger builds into its spider bite, I still am tethered to the ground.

No matter how I fly above true reason of flight; my Angels pass me by; stop me short of Blight.

I give myself the finger, when I sneak up upon myself…this doesn’t matter.

I tell myself to fuck off; will tell me to fuck off while staying in my secret.

I have Amnesia.

I’m a far cry from innocence; this barely tangible chest lift. 

There’s all the string that I pull; regardless of the feelings involved.

I have amnesia.

When I’m completely down and out you Angel’s tie me down.

I have Amnesia.

You girls give me Mt. Zion; a peninsula that I cannot lift up and fly out of bounds.

I can get rid of the pain that I feel through writing, but I do not lose my will.

You will always loose my sense of shame for the fact of love.

I’ve got so many loads that I can’t even see myself, without you; mi Familia

My angels’ were carrying on my will to sway, even though I feel no reason to stay.

I take this numbing stillness and I sing, tied down.

I have Amnesia of all the things I wish; always knowing the things you sing.

If it was up to my angry feelings, I’d lose these wings.

These things that I take for granted are the things that keep me grounded in me;

And are the things that my Soul’s truly sing of these days.

You give me the Amnesia that brings me to sing.

You give me the Amnesia that makes swing.

CRG

15 February, 2011

It’s been a long time since my last write, but I’ve been looking.  Oh, Yes, I’ve been seeing.  So much has been going on betwixt school and everyday life; my battles of substance.  Everything that has gone on, I see.  Not only do I see///but I live and Breathe.  I can look back through all my writing and see what I have wrote about and what I have not written about.  Maybe sometimes, I am taken out of context.  Let us reflect…I have my Uncle…battling cancer; I have the death of my previous life; I have the consumption of my new life; along with my ever-devouring feed-bag of music…That that which I produce and that of which I listen.  Damn…it’s a never ending battle of priorities; all of which will take me days to digest and months to put in its proper place.  But never, while reading my writing, that I take for granted mi familia.  In Fact, I give you all now something that is truly dear to my heart and soul…something that takes me a long time to devour and regurgitate…It seems to be the most hard of all things to write about.  Maybe it will help…me…in the long run.  For better or for worse, Yes?

2 February, 2011

The Striking Vogue

It’s the eyes that burn, my soul and stomach that churn.  It’s these clouds that turn to grey grout, gout.

The fall out rains stupid ash upon the cool, with them, staring at the clouds.  I stare at the crowds.

Far away from here, my spine grips the web’s work of electricity.

Sharing this dark day; and looking down…I am not just the lie; but the burning sty.

Jesus asks me if there is honey in thee cup; I don’t smile.

Far away from here, my time slips the stealth of synchronicity.

Being down in the garden, here, brings this face a staring glare.

A finely hewn stump, one brought about by axes’ ragged edge and the handled flare.

Glancing sideways this time would be against any dare.

You can see the second coming from within me; a striking vogue and full of swear.

It’s the eyes that burn, my soul and stomach that churn.  It’s these clouds that turn to a gray boxing bout.

 The Fall Out gives a thoughtful thumb to thee who drool, yet I just stare, staring at the clouds.  I stare at the crowds.

 It’s now, because far away from here my spines grip the intensity of their fear.

Breaking down in the garden, here, brings this face a staring glare.

A finely hewn stump, brought about by the axes’ ragged edge; and a cracked handles’ flare.

Glancing sideways this time would be against any dare.

You can see the second coming from within me; a striking vogue and full of swear.

30 January, 2011

Feeling of Salvation…Again.

The Foggy Breeze screaming agony.

Feeling alone, my own ovine soul seeks to have a drink of tea.

Take another drink, because your flowered mouth will not break this stream.

This is the time of breathless army’s breaking free.

You could have been a triple supernova that broke open the load;

You became a load that the stellar skies could only unload into the free matter known as star load.

The deed of this deed is lost, and forgotten freely.

You Bleed of free energy.  You smear of streaking energy matter…the fourth literate.

You’ve always forgotten your level & type and prowess.  You don’t slow down.  You’re a jungle unto its lonely forest walking, monkey scoffing, drunken on Friday Fucking, Lightning and Thunder Showing Cameo.

The snake that disagreed with the lion…much to be the loin of kittens, you can kiss this sunset.

Strike up the few that want to be above the state of disagree, and wind up the laboriously found frogs’ legs…you will never be me.  

You could always dismay, but my heals will never object to my loves’ objective Salvation…Again