MUDlines - your source for mud and muck
The time it takes for a museum
To close down and reinvent itself To opening
The lime I wanted to be mine as you wanted to be wrong it’s not a poem, this is not a song
Ready touch and stay
Is that our atmosphere get me to the new
Churches The llamas say they saw me by the Han-Kon-wat Monastry
Playing with the skulls
Playing your song
I had to tell them you were gone
I had to tell them we were robbed
We were robbed
Weren’t we?
i see no point of telling about myself as it may take focus from the work part I need to get done before I leave life for New York and the East Coast
forensic night shifts i undergo online.
Forget mortality and marriage all that starts with an M ends badly
Morbid Forest with a clearing is the opening act of the first scene.
Calligula Enters in a gound looking naked
Epsilon says his mantra
And the crowd gets disoriented
River Zeal b. feb. 5, 1992 / d. jan 22. 2047
so help
please help i am asking because
you’re not asking
blow the candles out let the night begin
and help me
cause first of all I hate it
More than asking for help I resent the act if receiving it
It makes me wanna put a bullet in this microphone and blow my head off before anyone couls say Black Gold Texas Tea
i wish you knew i wish you knew i wish
i knew how you could help anyone
but
yourself
let me take the road alone it’s me they’re after and hunting it’s me they’re hungry for
im not afraid to lose my mind
im afraid to lose an arm
im afraid to feel bored all the time
im afraid the rest of the world makes me an astronaut
if i can call you when im done it won’t be long if i’m lucky it will feel negro and bitch
from where i’m from thats called
Spirituality
if you have the time
to help me, i decline okay smile and wave bye bye
Spirituality
The Kevorkian way
is the medicine
fot what was to be my flesh and name
once in time through poles shiftting as voids grows thick and licking
My sout paws
Where they fell to the floor
I hate you I hate this game im done and I won’t ever trust nothing or no one anymore
(the sound of something veing poured into something made of crystal, the scene is intense, almost natural when it follows)
please give me away
please give me away
to one of my enemies today
its not shameless to not feel ashamed
asthtray marks please give me away
tryin to bear your blame every day
please give me away
help yourself
instead
Stupid misfit
Echoes og my bad guilt
help me regret (oh oh)
or i will make you dissapeat, forget and promise me, do not ever ask me again
for a fucking “game of logic” horseshit
leave me alone some men play chess
others make music and the women never plays and wins anyway no means yes
Bad guilt and great distances of helium and stress
Helium and stress
Good night Alberta
He that once drove a wheelchair climbed Everest
At least he died there
The point is,
You can reach your goals
Thats why they are there.
The folks in uncertainty suits
To have your troops prepared for battle
But it’s not a battle it’s a road laid out by your goals
What you want to want in your heart of hearts
It strengthens your soldiers
People die all the time
And for tradition in a poe let’s welcome the ever loveable poem
By Robert Frost, I know you don’t know it
But it’s Darwinism that takes a foothold, if you lose your way
You see what Frost doesn’t speak of are holes
They’re everywhere. BIG ONES, small one’s, there’s one under my toes
And the larger the width of a circle gravity follows
Makes it harder for some people, well most
To get up
To get out
Tongake a deep breath
Exhale
Roadland and all radios
Ends here, leave them t rex moves
Get up so high
Just like Jagger, or Hammersmith
The secret simply put like this
Continue your Road Less Travelled
Whatever, whatever happens
Courage Courage Courage
Over the raindrops
If that’s where your goals are
Even through the nectar
Beyond The Great Divide, The Valley of the Sorrows
The Forest of Regret, Atonement and Schemes as
Self possession, self esteem self defense
Courage Courage Courage
All things appear as all propellers
Constant change in location and fast colored like your eyes a deep ale
In a bar somewhere
When the invented virus
The infection of the vaccines
Takes place and that’s alcohol abstinence
Right here
Where you are now and I wrote once
Before I got the hell outta there.
I’m like a propelled driven steam boat
Takes too long a time to turn or stop
So ai’m gonna reach my goals as I pick up new ones
Are you?
So Are you?
If you enjoy lyrics more like this, pay us a visit \\ z o o b o x my band play m u s i c
I’m written into what I am to the smallest extent I can possibly attempt. So Are You?
What’s Your Name?
What’s your name?
Bondage, Flame
What’s your first color of choice
Brown
Who’s in command onboard?
The train conductor
What’s 10 – 10
Zero
What’s your name
What’s Your name
Bondage, Flame
What’s your height and weight
5’11 to 19 pounds
How to stay awake?
To rip, reap and reign
What’s your favorite movie?
Melancholia
Who wears his black coat?
The marquis de carabas
What’s your name?
What’s your name
Bondage, Flame
Who said “We shall fight on the beaches”?
Sir Winston Churchill
Where did lost end
Where it began
What’s your name?
What’s your name?
Bondage, Flame
Bondage, Flame
Super power
Ultra Jupiter sized Creature
Look me in my third eye and tell my fortune and my future
Hey, mega larger than life in size
Do you miss my style?
Do you miss my family, do you wish i died?
Ladybug and gentlefolk and ghosts of Christmas Past and Could-have-been a hero
It’s calling on you with big numbers after zero Zero
Never ending chaos Never ending lies, attempt to pry me open but I Can’t tell the truth when I was born a lie
Super power
Corny, or more like a baby shower?
Anyway, have you ever seen
Somebody feeling a scream from somebody else
That might not to you or me be real
We might never even see
More than Alice and her bad trips
Eating <> Enough
To they try to chop off her head
All perfect memories in my head
I stayed too long
In a London Hotel
I’m still lingering around waiting for an answer to a question I once asked my listeners
Are you alive?
Are you
Adorable
Affordable
Who’s that boy?
I am those two
She said to me he saw three pieces
Even suitable for teenagers as other victims used To try to sing
Let me In
I Have A Dream
We Shall Never Surrender
Chorus and the Ring, Waterloo Napoleon did surrender
I have been here since the first neon star was cast young and glowing in the mirror-
Of Ourselves
Our Milky Way
Tell us, my dear old Tellus
Who’s the meaning of life and where is she Located is she lonesome does she have cookies?
Soon thirty years on the same surface makes all of Us here south go africa crazy
And when Africa goes lunatically mad
heaven will burn up or down depending on Me like everything else, yes I’m fallen, yes I’m trespassing and I ignore it
And by God, I will stay until the last neon star from the skies will fall I am Caligula
I will be the one who stays here last
Stays so still extreme
Again all people dancing to my beat
Are you alive
Is this moment a moment you chose to be alive?
Im
Adorable
Im
Affordable
Who’s that girl?
I am those two
Three four
Hundered thousand million
Prayers lost in cyberspaces, network encryptions, mouth inflation oh
The whatever happened penetration
Oh the voices strong as horses we will drown by our emotional distortion never knowing why the moon is glowing or the sun shining the stars sparkle or your eyes water
what we have
Is what we need
Is what we know
it’s who we are
what I write
what you read (so?)
It used to be something we got in lotion
Chaos pinched me into higher chambers Now even tomatoes are prescription only Somebody I know from Flint, Michigan says hello and says they’re so so sorry but hey angry mob Do not worry it’s the big picturesque picture that ch
Hey ghost of Christmas now
All tribes all allowed bowed in awe and hesitated Denial
Let money fall to the ground in flakes and icy cold. Accurately a substitute for snow.
“What’s snow?” will somebody one day ask out loud.
“A slang for cocaine, give me your hand we’re cute being each other’s angels aren’t we?”
Do you know his daughter or dont you
F so z z c.
D. R. P. open G in minor key
No no follow me, Miss Lewinsky
You shine like a neon star so bright it hurs and follows my eyes wherever I go it burns in brass And indigo the neon star, the neon part
Just like the flapping off wings
When or even if the rapture springs
Im gonna come and rescue you
You yeah that’s right and I promise this time I’ll try to be on time, hey gorillas This is a fine wine, hey waiter!
Later after the washing of plates But you declined by pointing to the moon and Saying something in the likes of Hey dude, that looks like you, so uncool
So get a grip
And let her rip
Let her dip the sun in my vein
In a honey sip in a lemonade drink
So get a grip, get a handful of tits and stuff them with grit and bacon and fish
So Tune the Moon in your solitude
Im here from the light and to the rescue
Or to seduce the sedated
I can almost remember What I had for dinner I’m a sinner in love with a saint but she’s a loser I’m the winner, hey swampy you’re the big fat Moon so tune it yourself and I ran, I ran so far Away
Last easter with the brilliance of my own Ignorance
Am I talking about full still a dull moon on Thanksgiving with old aging attempts of being so grateful to have so much anger
She didn’t like anyone or anything five seconds in
Sad thing, like the rest of it I can’t find love I can’t find my vein, or shit
Do you know why you are?
Get a grip and let her rip
Get a grip and step in grit, pretend it’s the velvetine rabbit
Or was it Little Women you used to ask me to read To you so you’d sleep The worst part of it?
I did, I let you have it
You?
I never knew
You missed me saying
I hate television on TV
Cut to commercial
I rate reviews raw and rigidly
Do you know where to hide?
When they circle you out cause oh goodbye
What?
Oh haha come back
I forgot to give you this piece of cake and a rubberband soldier
Do you know anything
About anything to know about around? You have it on you now, of course you have
Of course you spiritual bitch, get a grip
Just like the flapping of wings
When or even if the rapture springs
The neon star drips in
all the cats and kids join in
Im gonna come
Im gonna come
are you alive
Are you high, if you say no I’ll kill you with the book I bought after we broke up The Catcher In The Rye
Are you gonna try, what do you mean
Im gonna come and rescue you again That’s too bad I’ll be gone next weekend
Here He comes doing his part nine
In the act of writing well In the same old sanity’s requiem
No (not yet)
Never ever again
In fact I hope you die That was my mom on the phone crying about Lady Di
No but I wish death to Heroin and everyone selling
I wish death to your girlfriend
Her name
Her Majesty
The Hierophant
Everybody’s gay if I want them to everybody reacts differently to karaoke than I do am I the only specimen thinking, fantasizing dirty details In regards to the bowling
What happened at Columbine is now law of the Land
What happened in Roswell, was so inspiring it led to the genius of an act titled – Don’t ask I’ll rape and shoot you if you tell.
underweight kids drin
The wind holds the answer and I read and
Started laughing
You mifht catch it
If you chose to stay alive
So Tune the Moon in your solitude
Im here from the light but you can’t see me well
Because love conquers hate
Always and I’m under Nina’s spell
Always and Forever
always and Never
always Eternally Eternity Celebration among Other things not so legal but hey pop stars, Skylarks and 40 year old virgins stop and rest Breathe a bit, I’m afraid I’m gonna burn out soon, don’t leave me yet
The neon star died at Samsara Hospital in Quebec
Under the President’s plummy belt lies his button To Switch from Buy to Sell and back again I got his number, he does drugs as well, but you didn’t hear that from me ok?
Who?
Under your Neon star
I fly so high you couldnt catch me if you’d try
Goodbye ugly girls and stupid boys starry eyed but Nada inside
Goodbye, Goodbye
(Bye, little prick, Want my balls to lick, look for me beneath the grit in your driveway, quarantined continued)
this monologue is partly pinned down, partly developing as time ticks. You’re not gonna get the whole thing on words because this is acting.
For a long, unusually long, time, even for Dr. Eko didn’t respond. Neither with giving her any eye contact (the good doctor sat in his office chair leaned towards the big opaque window and into the endless lawn.) or with a word he gave her no reply. It would have been an awkward moment for Morgan if not the entire meeting with this strange meeting at this strange place basically, No Man’s Land Street 1, New South Wales state, back in Australia.
She started to ask herself to just get up and walk out of there when an inexcusable, the eternal sin of any mistake any professional person in a respectful position to advice his common people anything could do, the almost 100 year old man of science, medicine and reason chuckled. First just once, if it. had been just that maybe it could be taken as a burp, but when he stood up and laughed so his whole big old wise body shook and vibrated with laughter. The laughter too didn’t stop and he stood up straight and wiped his eyes of tears. His eyes were soaked, his voice blurred but still tuned enough as to manage to hiss to Miss Moraan (19) the following repulsive sentence for a physician to say to every human being, patient or not. Of course you’ll die, that’s what cancer does. I sure ought to know. The girl who had come to the well respected alternative healer for his electromagnetic energies to do anything with her rather aggressive tumour in the vulva.
Moraan screamed like the only normal act would have been for her to do and ran out of his office forgetting her keychain where she had been sitting. .
‘You’re seriously telling me a ghost story?’
‘It’s true.’
‘How do you know’?
‘When the devil signs off and leaves the playground you know it’s really getting dark, am I right?’
‘Stop it. You’re a jerk’.
-Light switches off-
Grit Grit Grit
You’re covered in shit
Shit Shit Lift, (please)
You better get a grip
Arise soldier and die for your country or in the name of me, thy God Almighty,
with my glass of ink and sharpened feather I write
Grit Civil Grit war Grit Residue
You’re covered in shit
Drip Drip Drip
I’m the cause and sorry for all of it
Shit Shit
I better get a grip
Arise myself from the corpses and resurrect myself just because no one has done that yet
Still we write
Grit Grit Grit
Diggin my grave with no shovel and no pick
If I do not get a grip
Drip Drip Drips
Diggin my potatoes with potential and potent flavors still I write
Grit grit grit
So you wanna be a stone
Your father said you werent his son and now your head is about to explode
So you wanna be stone in private or your own tv show
So does everyone, today you’re number 91 in front of us row goes round the block
What makes you so uncomfortable with being alone
Are we not on the same stone
Or rather why aren’t you more like a rock
True faith, a life darkenes and somber toned
True love ain’t there, only zero and four and one and twenty one and all the stones
You’re aware of our rules, our sacred vow?
Still you wanna be a stone
Next question is on a personal note
How come you’re under thirty years old, so im to young but i say like mother mary before me lied her way out of being stoned
Are you aware there’s no turning back-road?
There’s no turning the hourglass and Hourglass Rd.
Here we are from the light we are rodeo
Here from the light to steal your warm hair and warmer soul
Here’s all you nees to know, listen to me boy
Once you join us in Paris, I book the hotel, skin you and you’re the skinless bones and stones
‘Everybody Wants to be me’ said the nobody.
‘Correct’ corrected the Marquis de Carabas accurately before quick as a cat snapped his fingers in the air. As to announce his presence.
A diversion.
The nobody turned to him and he shot him right between the eyes.
The room looked really bad after the Marquis shot the nobody at a distance less than six feet with the flaregun he always took with him when killing nobodies.
The Marquis de Carabas gave himself a satisfying smile though before quickly wiped his face with his sleeve and climbed out the same window he had used as his entrance.
Before the Marquis vanished into the night he said somewhat to the owls, doves and ravens following him. ‘Africa should really teach the other continents how to dress, dance and eat’ and all agreed.
‘Tudelu. Got places to be, people to kill. Time is not a friend, I’m afraid.
And gone was him and after a while one of the birds asked
‘who was he’
Bird brains had forgotten but I know as sure as your heart is rotten unfree and unclean:
The Carabas Of The Marquis was the name but who was he? A killer of nobodies. Like this one. Or people like Ted Nugent, Ronald McDonald, Eminem and Sony Music Ltd.
A killer, although he preferred watching boxing or looking at his collection of cobras hunt to eat their prey and watching them digest their food forever. He like most villains also got a house of mouths to feed. He was just delivering on an unfinished deed. Who?
A great lover of women, a jazz saxophonist and one of the founders in dark New Orléans, that house of that rising sun. Born in april, allergic to strawberries.
A collector of insects and ice hockey playing cards of which he had quite a selection. Yet he was also a villain, a victim of the violence and ashamed generation that knew when African people blamed him and his country, the home of the free, for inventing the virus and , he knew as you and I and everyone knows it is as accurate as could be.
The Marquis was somewhere between the future and the east
When Jesus returned and doomed the people of color to damnation eternal but made the Marquis a high priest.
God knows a good kill when he sees it’s real pure and last but not least evil and mean.
‘Shut up your holiness, I’m on my way to no man’s land. There’s a nobody out there, you just put the money in the van’
‘Tudelu’
Jesus stood and watched where he ran down highway 43
He shook his head and said with great envy.
Oh, if only I could show that Carabas that I’m worth something too, he’s so arrogant. Just like Madonna.
And then the Holy spirit summoned him and summarized in Christ,
That maybe his Father was wrong, maybe love despite what I though seizes to exist if the world still is filled with nobodies and then Jesus bombed the UN building. With those stolen WMDs and then he vanished too because the Lord of The Rings caught his attention as it was 1956.
(500 years before in Rome said the pope, give me the rope. I can hear the footsteps of the Marquis in my halls’ And there again he was. The Nobody, The wannabe and the Marquis alert as a tiger when helping the world, helping all of us, to minimize the nobodies around us.)
Then they bloom and sink their shoulders
Come here, Come near me
my gang is playing russian roulette
i roll myself a cigar and pull an empty socket out in the sunset next one up
is your mother, K-dix
she’s in my gang
where we hang is near your wife
and her friends hang
hand in hand in hand so nice to see women
embrace other women
/
you’ll always miss us time after time
cause time gives birth to time
my gang rolls like the tide
a wheel on a free city bike
what party is next
we’re here to destroy what is left to destroy of the already brokendown cities of asthma country in ruins broke and sudden swept with fire flashing flashes strikes me not, Where to now? breathes my gang and swears
I stole Gods car and I crashed
what party is next
Be my friend
Don’t go
Where you know
So well
I can’t follow
These lines were roads once
Useless now and useless then
Be my friend
‘A long time ago for most of you, a mosquito killed a scarab by eating its legs and eyes before watching it die slowly as it sat watching. An act of pure desperation as the room it was locked in had no other living organism in it but the scarab, and the mosquito craved blood so much it started to dawn on it that life as it knew it might be over if he didnt get proper blood soon. As life poured out of the scarab a scent arose in the room only noticeable by blood sucking insects in immediate distance, and the scent was rigid and unholy and tasted more bitter than the fluorescent lights for now turned off, as if it reflected the sensations felt by the dead bug at the time of its Death. After it passed, the lab room continued to be dark, locked and only furnished With a white table With one dying and another dead insect without wings. The man who had collected the wings from the crippled hunger ridden mosquito was the Young Version of Mister Hisch. He had taken them to his Third date With Mister Hancke after Learning about his taste for anything that once had been part of a bug ripped off while the creature was still alive and breathing. 9.8 Miles North by northwest from the abandoned lab Mister Hisch waited for Mister Hancke to be done in the bathroom. Anal sex was hard on the digestive system and Mister Hisch tended to become aroused by Things in that category.
After he knocked on the door, found Mister Hancke gone without a trace, Mister Hisch found himself cry out; Where is He?! He had been outside, waiting patiently the entire time and there was no logical explanation for him not to have seen him exit the toilet.
Under the greenish bleak Parisian night Mister Hancke lit a cigarette on top of the Sacré Coeur dome quite content he had mastered his third magical Power, the mighty act of Transmutation. Only four Wonders to go he thought while smoking his cigarette as if every inhale was a satisfying proof he was no one to be ever by anyone a slave to answer the question Mister Hancke hated more than pretty much any other. The dreadful tongue of “Where is he”. With this Power, the question would from now on always be a hard one to answer sufficent if, at all.
The night continued to be abnormal all the way to dawn, When the sun arose over the city of light, no rays reflected the vanished imprint of Mister Hancke at the top of Sacré Coeur and the day turned out to be vital and vicouriously fatal, as all days have the habit of becoming.
Toast to the people making thunder
Toast to those who burns the flag of wonder
A toast to the disunited states
And one for all the hate it creates
Him close his presidential coat in waiting for the rain
A toast to rain! Turning like the wheel pleasure into pain!
A toast to the brushes of a toothbrush never used
A toast to fur coats and that song about them boots
Rain
Rain
Rain
As long as you’re in it – keep on playing failing after failing after failing
Such aspects of the world i love are
People when they realize when they seize and appreciate their real eye realism
