From the outside looking in

swept in a pile lies every piece of me

once with so much direction, now a lifeless heartbeat

thinking of the moments I've wasted, how I could fuck up this bad

seems time has run its course, all the haves were had

Spend rest of eternity, floating dead in space

wonder if i had nine lives all along, and put each one to waste

Thinking nothing but travel, if i could turn back the days

leave no stone unturned and be on my way

they Left me here alone, on the outside looking in

heads hung with sorrow,  no way to understand

begging for the past, what should have been

erase the future they pictured, and start over again

and just as I cant bare to watch them reminisce

he puts his hand on her shoulder and says "We'll "get through this'

there's not one thing you could have done, that's a promise

only the good die young,  now a life long chorus

capitalist confession

saw the same picture, but never felt the same

couldn't last forever, but tends to feel that way

there's no will or way, there's no "instead"

said a vision cant validate whats all in your head

no need to worry, the best has yet to come

a passive state of being, no settle to be won

Leave me the extra baggage,  limitation ruled by fear

welcome to America, it's best to check out here

a sinners mind is a sanctum: hurt but never helped

a capitalist confession to mask it well

to call in question the truths of man and word"

inspire the change, over dying to be heard

Silence is golden, we've named the condition:

 one mouth to speak and two ears to listen

 two praying hands to bring compromise

twice the hurt to hear, my mouth will abide

Puppeteers for hire- Mike brunelle and Megan Hann

http://www.mediafire.com/?had4nitbzjziqle

click the link to hear Mike Brunelle bring my words to life! 

Puppeteers for hire- Mike brunelle and Megan Hann

Let me be greedy, let me take it in the palm

call it sounding needy, call it fueling future wrongs

Take it like a patron saint, the wrath of Holy ghost

If you can take the little things, i can take the most

Puppeteers for hire, plotting each and every string

Call it hard to come by, make it hard to believe

I've got a turning table conscience, call it (passing) judgment day

If you can point me in the right direction, baby, I can lead the way

stagnant as ice water ,now please don't abuse this

call it limbo lingering, Ive got no new act to amuse this

got this whole new way of living, out of sight  and out of mind

if you can save me from the burning sun, I can pull us through the night

let me be the rise and fall of your breath, let me take you by the hand

call it picture perfect, call it clutching grains of sand

Cut a hole in your ozone, and let the light shine through

if you can be real with me, i'll be real-er with you

It's all in your control

thresh holds are the basis of decision making. when the positives out weigh the negatives, or vice versa, a conclusion can be made and an action can be drawn. However time isn't the only aspect of these decisions. It's all in your control. To live in the now not yesteryear, or future tears, makes one in complete sync wih themselves. The moment when the basis of your life isn't one another's, or some others, but your own. Then there is no need for charts, for graphs or for measurements, it becomes feeling without justification, answers without long division.

I said what the hell is going on around here

With over 6  billion people as the worlds entirety, with 6 billion views, six billion decisions and conformities, and 6 billion directions what keeps us all in sync? What keeps us from dominating and dictating chaos? For a group of singularities there is one level of the conscious creating the understanding we fight against. The collective conscious holds moral attitudes controlling our general direction. The representation of our factory settings that we quickly customize to suit the environment that determines us. What about individuality? such applications weren't distributed to conform to whats most suiting. What about progression? This cant possibly be the end of what was once called infinitive. How many thoughts are cycled and put to waste as they don't suit the standard So we ship them off, an orphan to their own and claim them as dreams. When reality is derived  from real, and real, recognition average members of a society, not our own, forming a determinate system of regulations to keep those stray thoughts in line.

is it

Love is cold,
play your cards or choose to fold.
 lose it all or watch it grow,
 meet the biggest dissapointment you've ever known

Rollin' rollin' stone

Spend your days prayin' at the bank

with a blank cheque, and a void stamp

A pocket full of spare change

Wishing it all to gold

 /

Can't turn dirt into diamonds

hands full of rocks,

and you still keep trying

to keep pitchin' that pyrite

nothin' gold is here to stay

Spent hours chasing 'round clock hands

circles unmindfully fashioned

selling seconds for minutes

to the man between the bars

\

Can't turn dirt into diamonds

hands full of rocks,

and you still keep trying

to keep pitchin' pyrite

nothin' gold is here to stay

You've been some type of rolllin' stone

 found There's no place quite like home

 when the dust has settled and

 I'm the last thing on your mind

Not everything that shines, is for the crows eye

Karma payment plan

Damn deft disaster
Heavy credit, i maxed it 
with card regestered to no other than
Mr. Nom de guerre

Started just today
The ol' karma payment plan
He said life bears enough debt on its own
Mr. Nom de guerre

Now Mr, Mr
run straight to the bank
its a small price to pay
when karma drops the stakes
give and take
give and take

It's all what you make
s'what the teller had to say
It's a glass half empty half full condition
Mr. Nom de guerre

Now just sign here,

Now Mr, Mr !
run straight to the bank
its a small price to pay
when karma drops the stakes
give and take
give and take

No one ever said it was the right thing to do

Alameda calls for sun

Heard it all through the grapevine

Go on, toss in a spare

You've set off a landmine

We've only brought to pass

But it's already been the end

Oh, when it's bad, it's really bad

And when it's good it's grand

Bad words from sly mouths

All toss 'round with the wind

But that's not who you are

Only who you've  been

The broker`s gone long poor

Have you read the front page news?

We`ve all been repossessed

And there`s nothing left to do

We've only brought to pass

But it's already been the end

Oh, when it's bad it's really bad

And when it's good it's grand

It's just grand, it's just grand

Biblical forcast, got us runnin' lilke mad

Found a one man orchestra
With a prescription to fill and
Jumped the streetcar to vengeance
With an anonymous killer

Got lost in the laundry
hit a fork in the road and
left thoughts in the quarry
that lay in the lost and found

oh Limbo man
sells perpetual debt
caused a ruckus, and a rapture
for the "havn"t-happened-yets"
Met an anchor cast of doubt
Tossed to a shallow sea grave she
Weighed down word of mouth and
Condoned the promises I"d made

oh Limbo man
sells perpetual debt
caused a ruckus, and a rapture
for the "havn"t-happened-yets"

I"ve sorted my short comings,
Came up shorter in change had
To empty my wallet just
To walk stark the other way
oh Limbo man
sells perpetual debt
caused a ruckus, and a rapture
For the "havn"t-happened-yets"

Hasn't happened yet

Yet another

Let me parry just one thing
I'm a begger and a chooser
And i cannot be the warden
To a post traumatic soldier


We set fire to the cosmos
But you don't answer to arson anymore
Spark flight ignites the crowd
and it burns 
and it burns


Pride is the only victim
Of senceless self deception
Rest assured where you hang your hat
That nothing here is sullen


Said I've got it all, almost
To own that stray dog freedom
Gotta' do away with the sheriff
And his falsified subpoena


We set fire to the cosmos
But you don't answer to arson anymore

Spark flight ignites the crowd

and it burns

and it burns


This love's on fire
And me, I'm alright
I'm okay

Martyr Madness

Well, I sold my baby
For a dream as lovely
As my five string anchored heart
I couldn’t be the only Martyr, blood line priest’s daughter
With a vision as black as her lungs


Well, I lost my baby
to a cut throat melody
a Martyr held hostage by psalm
The symphony played it, the bass ballad I painted
said music could save us all


My baby's sold
My baby"s used
Well, she was borrowed, and now she"s blue
Now she"s blue


Well i lost my baby
for a chance as crazy
Now i sing the song"s she wrote
wed the almighty dollar, left 'lone by the altar
with a void cheque and a mouth full of doubt


My baby's sold
My baby's used
Well, she was borrowed, and now she's blue
now she"s blue


Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today...

Mary wanna?

Marley flower ,
why'd you go and leave me?
You love sold by evening
next morning, is gone


She got you all, all
wrapped up in the dollar
A wild idea
To get lost for an hour


Here"s a retelling
Of an unfortunate seduction
Her words softly spoken words
to the movement of margins


She left my eyes heavy
And there"s nothing I'd rather
Than a faint recollection
Of a come and go lover


She"s got you all, all
wrapped up in the dollar
A wild idea
To get lost for an hour

California blues- Megan Hann

Every decision
Starts a flicker of your cigarette
Runs through your ration as madness
Leaves your mouth as regret


Breathe, California
Watch it go 'round and 'round
California let me down easy
California let me down


Every collision
Starts tossing restless in bed
Left a dent in the lifeless pillow,
you've long rest your head


Made it as far as medicine
To political science, it's grown
i've already Board that flight to California
And California let me down


Breathe, California
Watch it go 'round and 'round
California let me dwn easy
California let me down


California just let me

What happened to those good 'ol fashioned values?

What convincing adject-ile vomit we've all been spewing. Let's put accusations and promotions in front of our convictions, we'll call it the truth.

I'm a ghostwriter for an ocean in a shell

Welcome to the surreal life. This is all a fantasy until we form the fact. It's been like learning, you can't consider yourself taught in the middle of the act. after fact you've gained the knowledge, the experience. Is it possible to recognize the present, or is it always going to be a reflection of the past? As soon as you break down the process of anything it consumes the time that makes it current. Really we're basing everything off of a memory because we can't comprehend any action without the reaction that names it. We're all so anonymous for unpredictably predictable creatures.

It's a small world afterall

It has been said that "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent" But the reality is without any defined truth, anyone can deteriorate the blocks of our structure through the open doors of our subconscious. With any given judgment, the confusion revolves around the statement. Can dialect produce enough hurt to impact the part of yourself that has been masked, or is it the sheer misconception of it all that will damage you at best? It seems as if consent hasn't been that optional for those of us who lack the strong willed, empowered protagonist. Or maybe we're just that weak.

Back to the one it belongs to.

The range between arguement and debate is so similar to the PH, The arguement being acidic, hateful and opposing with such high concentration, The debate being alkaline, with digestible qualities.  The arguement is conviction, to stress a point that is typically relevant to an individuals personal opinion. An argument is the begining debate, smothered with frusteration, the end result not being to persuade, but to intimidate and to conform. To the opposing party of an argument, it either ends with half-hearted agreement, or it continues to grow with punushment and conviction. Defining the unnecessary, it was all quantity. The mass and power of every word directed not to absorb the beginning debate, but to use excusable injustice in the mass murder or true thought pattern.

Free falling

you can kill me with your music but
we're falling faster than that melody
can catch us and
I'm gone

She should be here now but she isn't, there's your trouble

Let's chalk it up to better luck, it's not as if we can control the things that are changing faster then what we can keep. Don't cave, even for a second, you'll build yourself only to be broken and re-built.

strung out and thin.

Moments of opposing weakness should motivate indulgence of the alternative party. Ignoring any right or reason victimize with irrelevant malaise and proceed. It is then you will realize the temptuous effort to fill, the prescription to kill.

The most flattering angles, through the ugliest shots.

I sleep with a hypothetical knife in my dominant hand. There is no comfort in knowing what protects you could turn to vendetta just as quickly.

Finish what you start

If i could feel the opposing sorrow I would be certain to die, but the uncertainty of their affection over my imperfection leaves the decision unclear.

Let's play a game with happy and sad.

Opposites are the method of rebellions lust.

The mechanics of things are killing me

My mechanical mind is constantly analyzing and defining to offer clarity. Compulsion offers such a routine with constant explanation and comfort to the things that we cannot conquer. The mechanics of things have been the building blocks of my life. Offer a logical explanation to everything appearing as wisdom, but all for selfish comfort. There is no competitive drive, or dominating satisfaction. It s all the alleviation to obsessive fear and uncertainty. The mechanics of things are any explanation or analysis to any given situation, without prior or advised knowledge. It provides you with a constant euphoria though I can't help but feel as if it won't defeat all of my concerns. With this process I've realized the only thing I cannot define at this point is growth. Growth is the only thing I have to record instead of define, the second you numerically record growth, it has lost its element and is now a mechanic. Growth is technically an emotion, we define it in numbers, because that is the closest explanation. We give mechanics to things that destroy the actuality.

Pathetic desperation

Anything imbibing strength is consciously victimized. Strength is recognized not created.

So glad to meet you, Angeles.

Considerably and knowingly I am powerless to my obsessions. I am not a victim as I am not helpless, or naive. I am not slaved, only enslaved. I am not a labourer to my subconscious but an obligated and honorable member to everything familiar, but nothing known. Being an analytical skeptic, I can recognize and define with no expressional relief aside from under appreciated digression and articulation. Exploring the hidden parts of yourself, there is a continual reminder that the strangest accommodations are the commodities in which you are most familiar.

I'm beginning to see, the cracks in our foundation.

 the dominating aspects of confidence and observation come without tension or hype. It was a learning experience but the euphoria was created without the synthetic aspects that differ dreams from reality. It could be argued, seeing how some may consider just that to be the definition of exaggerated sensation. Personally, I've developed enough control to know that any substance will excuse what you're compulsion seeks to relieve. Numerically, users feel as if quantity will result in experience or tolerance. Those who seek passion play rather than ignorance have a euphoric understanding that is mistaken for addiction or obsession. With no directly stated objective, you may question what exactly I am unveiling to define. That's the answer to all misdiagnosed addictions, It is impossible to hypothesize, categorize or evaluate what you can't even begin to understand. Society confines those who defy the supposed "norm" to disease, disorder, and confinement. There is a distinct difference between an addiction and a lifestyle though the basis of our impressionable humanity do not leave room for exploration and further knowledge.

For the things I cannot recall.

The most impressionable necessities are accepted anonymously. Regions initiate relational assumptions used to capture the qualifications that radicate and rank invisible applications I've unmindfully fashioned to every individual. Standards have released a monosomic security of doubt that accommodates spontaneity without fear of the fall. The genre of an origin has become an accepted a level of recognition and potential value. The things we ignore are in premature development, they require time not as a numerical figure, but as an excuse for what we unmindfully dismissed. The only opportunity to delay the oblivious exhaustion of compulsion is through temporary distractions. Foreigners of patience, a semi-nomadic base is the only logical proof of perpetual existence. Morally stating, the "opposites method" is unlisted translation of the things I cannot recall, the bitter defying paradox of definition.