 | Pavlovs_Dog 02 Sep 10 7:42 am Virus
VIRUS
As I sit here and pass a glance at the empty box,
words trickle form my finger tips in rasping wiry venoms taunts,
a slick witted lexicon,
a veracious voice,
a displacement of emotion demoralizing those it strokes as its ingested.
It fires patterns in our neural pathways,
regurgitated responses of confusion aggressively infect all suitable subject matter,
gray as it may be,
knowledge unknowingly becomes the carrier.
Craniums crash,
contagious conundrums leap from host to host debasing the construct.
Building blocks of idolized foundations sit in ruins,
ripped and tripped.
Waxing lyrical on all ready polished beliefs leave pure thoughts mirrored in the paradox of self evident contradiction,
conflicting hypocrisies. | | Pavlovs_Dog 27 Aug 10 9:58 am celebrity
the silver screen progressed my dreams,
untouchable by mortal hands.
fans and fictures drapped in screams,
across the bollards,
siving like pans.
the taste the thirst,
the thought the theme,
the balls of shit all covered in cream,
the crass retorts
reputations fester.
your not living a legend,
just an empty gesture. | | Pavlovs_Dog 06 Jan 10 11:19 pm Spoken Word
Have I ever spoke ill to you?
Spoke ill of you?
Joked ill of you
Look at you, your view askiew
that twisted rotten stench you spew.
Words dressed as wisdom but masking witchary
Back stabbing bitchary leaves me with an itch on my back
but as I attack the scratch it leaves my front wide open for a volley of assaults peppered in "I love you" motions.
You're true a surgical snipper armed with guilt and I could never see you coming,
you operate with a scalpal and scope,
as you drapped your arms over my shoulders I never thought to check your hands for a rope.
Your tounge twisted like a choking vocalised sword.
With surgical percission you inserted your first incission with indiffereance.
exploritory surgery making a mockery of what I called trust
as you thrust with butchery and blood lust in your eyes.
But my bad, of course it was my fault, you see to me it seemed to make sense
that I should apply logic and reason to our disagreements,
I was stoic this season which aided appeasment,
but drama and turmoil was all you are pleased with...
I like my peace and quite,
Im not a man of violance,
But you your highness,
Put me in a mind for a terminal type of silence.
They say no man is an island, yet you inspired me to build a boat and go fucking check for myself,
I sailed from continental shelf to continental shelf till I was once again content with myself.
______ | | Pavlovs_Dog 21 Dec 09 1:00 am no name yet
I throttle a bottle to be a boxing bag for my other selves punch drunk. Punctuated luck brings on the audible euphoria of the sounds clink clunk or the ching ti ting ti tcing. Bags of forgiveness, forgetfulness. The potion that transforms me from Hyde into the Dr. Jeckle, the beast who heckles the man, the man who dreams of his struggle to be his saving grace. Maybe this weakness will humane me, give me a vest with a number to enter that elitist race. Pawned off and broken with no soul to sell, the telling signs of emptiness embrace with mother like comfortability. Stumped at peoples ability to gel. While there hair holds to the fashions Im rationed on my agility to enteract, not interact , but enter act. Part 1 the stage lights hit and Im on the spot. Choked with speech I fumble in conversational elegance, a prelude, now I must back up the persona. A phony NO, just revving up the crowd. Dont worry. Hell be here soon. Just bring me more of that clink clunk, ching ti ting tching sound. BAGS of charisma.
So. Enters THE KEITH: dont worry Ive earned the prefix. Like a personified reflex I feel at one with the downing. A human essence to the drowning, like a brother in arms, like a mother in a glass, but I smother in the farce, and in the self evident mutilation and masochism, at myself I still have the last laugh. Laugh hardest? I dont know, because when sober I just see myself as the joke, and guess what, the punch line awakens, he drags me to the off license to take a restock of lifes alcohol abbreviations, because it does, It cuts and pastes over whats needed, and the feeling of a good day, it takes its time and plants the seeds, Im an anti ideology man but this becomes a creed, the bar an alter, and the provider a priest, next thing Im secured in my penance praying drunk on my knees as he yells "TIME GENTLE MEN PLEASE!!!!!" | | Pavlovs_Dog 14 Dec 09 12:42 pm Self made martyer
I grab the glass its cold its crass,
I tilt to twist,
to stumble pissed,
To forget how to remember.
To bring my soul to deaths sythe and sever
first thoughts from emotions,
clowning notions,
drowning potions.
no for ever
its all to the
bev-er-age.
Alcohols bitch | | Pavlovs_Dog 13 Dec 09 10:06 am untitled
A dedicated follower of fashion.
You are a walking bill board,
For everything you wear.
Customers, your friends, wil great you,
and in a subliminaly brain washed state stair.
Nike, Converse, Adidas.
The shoosh, the star, the stripe.
You claim your individuality,
what a load of shite.
You cover yourself in Brand names,
surrender to the fashion law.
And follow the drones,
your friends,
in trends,
To be crusehed by societys flaw(claw) | | Pavlovs_Dog 13 Dec 09 9:55 am Owned by the hour
Contemplations of a future futile,
a true style of insurmountable odds,
gambled by pulling short lots of allotted time.
As ticks on the clocks change to tocks,
seconds second guess themselves in there forward momentum.
Mandatory mastication eases the swallowing of hourly meals.
Sour tastes retexture both faces as the apertures spin cycles never falter.
Fluctuations force the hands to slap you;
facades of freedom are shackle and bolts disguised,
the 12 stop station replays to its guests.
A vacation in jest is expelled for the effort,
an apparition of forwarded time to the consumable commuters.
Time in loo losses its liquidity as contractual cohesion constipates.
Reasonable irateness resonates randomness,
as the ridged regurgitation creates reflux with in the crux,
a flux capacitor,
to steal a stroke so its never struck. | | Pavlovs_Dog 13 Dec 09 9:52 am White Xmass.
White Xmass.
A coward you suppose,
But under the power of a powdered nose,
His eyes start to roll,
And consequences compile at a rile of his temper
Insurmountable pressure, a rumble
A pummelling punch texture,
Sounds trouble like thunder.
Clap Clap.
The storm starts to blow,
The coke fuelled coward grows,
On the rise , with prose he knows ohh to well,
To escalate situations,
With conversational abbreviations,
Slap Slap.
Two full stops, like black dots
Snap Snap,
Like a ship on the rocks,
Attack Attack.
A hollow back with no bone,
Blizzard weather fronts
Blow till its made of stone. |  | racecar_racecar 22 Sep 08 12:48 am Delysie The Science Guy
I see him in McDonald's
he lives in a dream
the serotonin no longer has hold
as he unfolds his upturned literature
in a rainbow colored sea
the psychedelic sailor sets sail
wearing a newspaper hat
delysie golden arches is where it's at
you go through lots of pain & strife
when a comercial slogan is your life
'science is awesome' he says with a grin
he's a broken record, he'll say it again
while tripping & watching tv
he fell into an acidic slumber
& awoke to a dream
but 'science is awesome' is all he can scream | | racecar_racecar 16 Jun 08 5:31 pm Thus Spake The Kangarooster
In the land of lets pretend there lived a kangarooster,
half of him was kangaroo the other half was rooster,
he could jump and he could crow,
clap his wings tap his toes,
in the land of lets pretend there lived a kangarooster |
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