Fail

Posted on May 14, 2016 by meltingneurons

Sometimes you crumble instead of finding that strength to go on.

We aren’t all heroes.

This isn’t a movie of achievement and success.

Loved ones are hurt.

Blessings aren’t counted.

Actions come like riding a bike after years away.

All of it slides across you and at some point it’s pitiful weakness that lets you down.

The weight proves too great.

You’ve burnt out.

Hope is the most dangerous thing.

It promises more…

But maybe this is who you are.

The Almost.

So close to winning – that you have to fail.

Apologies will be made.

But “sorry” is as empty to the ears of others as much as it is empty to you.

You wanted so much more.

But it’s the head games you play with yourself that destroy you time and time again.

It’s just the way it is.

Just the way it is.

The way it is.

Birthday Suicide Blues (2015)

Posted on May 13, 2016 by meltingneurons

Kicked out of yet another program last year….this time on my birthday 2015. Hiked 23 miles through New Bedford and wound up shooting coke under a bridge to celebrate….detox the next day. Sigh…madness and mayhem on tap.

Suicide Blues

Information overload leaves a catatonic state,

Insane flashbacks that babbling never slakes.

So, I’ll lift a glass or grab a spoon,

Always a delight to numb out while speeding towards one’s doom.

Sweet and luscious memories deride me in a torrent,

So, I’ll hit it twice and blank it out till I become abhorrent.

Streets, infections, jails, and horrifying youth,

Tweaked out, blacked out, cracked out, hiding from a truth.

It hides behind each one I take, lurking in the corner,

A queasy feeling critter all sewn up dark,

“Truth” is my last remaining mourner.

With bulging eyes and clasping paws it looks comfort to provide,

But I’ll show it how, I’m living now, in ghastly fear and pride.

Battering awareness until thinking is a chore,

Wish it didn’t taste so good or I’d be less a whore.

So feed me everything you’ve got –

The booze, the pills, the lines, the rock.

Pump it in as fast you can until I’m outlined in chalk.

Eventually all will fade away and leave behind my friend,

“Truth” says that all this time it was just fine to reach out for an end.

I could have saved my aching skull from cracking at the ridge –

It’s too late now though, and all I dream of is hanging from a bridge.

Green Haired Angel – Video/Spoken Word

Posted on May 7, 2016May 7, 2016 by meltingneurons

Misha

Spoken word for a special someone who holds me together when I’m on the edge. I don’t know what I’d do without. With heartfelt thanks, and wishing you the recognition you deserve.

Elegantly Disturbed Haikus – #1

Posted on May 6, 2016May 6, 2016 by meltingneurons

wearing an embryo,
would prefer a large flopping sombrero,
small skin means tight fit.

bedazzled rodents fly,
as shockingly agile bullets,
spreading feet like wings.

plastic horror show,
melts to a puddle of goop,
Barbie versus torch.

Green Hair Angel

Posted on May 5, 2016May 5, 2016 by meltingneurons

Spoken word is coming shortly…if you haven’t seen it, I’d really love to hear some of your own work…take a look at the Studio34 for the listing if you don’t see it a post or two down. Cheers!

She told me in a voice that wants for something more,

“I’m stuck with you and you with me,

But I don’t want to be stuck,

I just want to be happy.”
Simple words of wisdom,

Drop out the only mouth from which I tend to listed.

All around life is in tatters again,

It’s a battle of just going and going,

Churning up the ground as I try for traction.
People ask if I even know what I want,

It would be easier to drop my head in the sand,

No one wants to be confronted by the fact,

That survival doesn’t constitute a plan.
No goals

Just obligations.

Another sick hollow spot,

Self-indulgent in wasted life,

A never ending emotionless vacation.
The idea of walking a road with no end in sight,

Sounded so peaceful when I was younger.

I can’t be old enough to be this tired,

Those thoughts drag my feet,

Mired in mud six feet deep.
When you’re bound to the pipes,

The needles, the bottles, the pinners, the caps, the strips, the tabs and the doses,

The misery never knowing, always moving,

Chaotic insecurity, discomfort and the fear –

It’s easy to lose yourself in the haze,

No rag can clean vision so glazed.
Occasionally you need a multi-colored head of hair to show you that there is still more to be had.

That whatever tomorrow brings,

It’s worth holding steadfast to belief in something better.

Even if you have to lean on each other to get there.
She told me in a voice that wants for something more,

“I’m stuck with you and you with me,

But I don’t want to be stuck,

I just want to be happy.”

(Need your Help!) Addiction & Recovery – Spoken Word, Rap, Rhythm

Posted on May 4, 2016May 4, 2016 by meltingneurons

Looking for your word(y) contributions….

Anything and everything…spit fire or choke gargling on vomit…just a message in your own words.

Amp up until your pupils drool…

Posted on May 4, 2016 by meltingneurons

Long night, long day.

Screeching whistles from the bat winged harpies playing in the sun.

I swear I put a dog collar over the tree stump last week,

Wonder what happened to the dog?

I should probably go out and check,

But now it’s impossible to tell through all their beaks.

Should have embellished the points of each ear,

Small silver trellises of moonlight into nursery rhymed eyes.

C’est la vie,

I’ve got a lockjawed dedication that demands fevered lacerations,

And if they leave a few eggs on the ground for breakfast this evening –

-so much the better.

Madness in the Museum — Charlie Zero The Poet

Posted on May 4, 2016 by meltingneurons

Shibboleth gossip sucking sobriety – Invidia Cielo E Magick phlegm archives bleed the child withdrawn. Alternate you executed each. That anxiety comes from coyotes. Splinter gash the ever caprice peptic. Wagner strangles his virtual appendix. Genocide glow sarcasm one off demon, a torso floating graffiti, please bore my pain 6. Multiplying eradication, Plow pulls angel […]

via Madness in the Museum — Charlie Zero The Poet

Trust

Posted on May 3, 2016May 3, 2016 by meltingneurons

Another lost basis of honor,

Failed mediums of drive,

A staccato rhythm of boots,

And the pending crinkle of the chains.

I wish you miserable excuses for people would leave me alone.

Just to be with myself and the few I love.

Instead, you force your fears into my comfy world,

And here I sit again…holding on by my nails and bated breath.

Stay the fuck away.

I’m sick of you,

The snap is going to be sharp and intense.

I’d beg you.

But you’d probably ignore it anyway.

So let me hold you close.

Into the abyss we can fall together.

Recovery Flow – 1st Spoken Word

Posted on April 20, 2016April 20, 2016 by meltingneurons

Depths – Spoken Word, Addict Recovery Flow

(1st attempt at spoken word….written version below. Please stick past the 1:00 mark as it hits a much better rhythm and pulls together everything)

Go deep.

Depth.

Because you and I have depth.

No shallow pieces of paper whipping in the wind here.

We’re fucking mountains with roots buried in lava.

Dig deep.

Through chunks of earth.

Through underground lakes.

You and I are living statues giving statements.

Cut through miles of meat.

Let out rivers of blood.

Depth.

No 2D, weak minded, single sided bullshit here.

Find the spinning core of pressurized EVERYTHING that powers our furnace.

I’m not powered by the drive for one thing.

I’m an addict.

I’m a fucking hero.

I’m a lunatic.

I’m a fanatic.

I’m an extremist.

I’m a fatalist.

I’m a romantic.

I’m passion given wings and no name.

I run on need.

I’ve been asked what makes me tick.

Why do I do it again?

Why am I so fucking sick?

Because I live on fear,

On love, on hope, on greed, on determination, on demands, on need, on want, on confusion, on chaos, on misery, on joy, on pleasure, on excess, on more.

I live on intensity.

I breathe it.

The world spits straight fire down my throat so hot that all I can beg for is a drink to put it out,

And a shot to start the burn again.

Go deep.

Find depth.

I’m not bored.

I’m scared that the moment it stops, I’ll be less interesting to myself.

That the world won’t have a reason for me to be around.

I’ll be normal.

And I don’t understand that word.

This is the only norm I know.