For Your Pain
Courage transfigures and I finally choose to grow and be glad.
I have to plumb the depths for those who assert that death must be mad.
People will overlook those around them and choose to be sad.
Awareness is wealth and to be aloof is to be had.
I pray for consciousness and feel it inaugurated in a vivid darkness.
Hotter than the fumes of pain I've felt.
Madder than all the madness I've dealt.
Our season in hell is when we choose to believe that madness is wealth.
Sharing is caring and caring is wealth.
Our deepest fear fuels poverty in our richest depths.
Some minimize everything and that is more angst.
Ego is not our master but our answer to increasingly more angst.
And if we leave anything behind we leave everything behind.
Dreams are presence in a world that knows not.
Success is lost pleasure for the soul that hopes not.
A task is a task and not the meaning of the moment.
That inner war is taboo blood and will not quieten the torment.
Love will transfigure into courage any hate that thinks to torment.
Fear is an illusion of ineptitude that couldn't moot that great Will.
Save regardless of the lane and if not then switch to kill.
The promise is true.
When honesty turns off lust and madness blames pills.
Duality is simple but not integral.
There can't be two of anything or two of nothing.
The flower knows itself and the tree knows its water.
Foundation needs it support and the soul should forget whatever it wants.
Want is parasitic and lack implies defeat.
We want what we can't have when what we actually want is deceit.
When the blue sky darkens in our hearts and our soul will not be black.
The devil's actions cut through intention like a blade and all think to cut him some slack.
Striving is conquering want and never wanting to stay on track.
Poets now stutter on guns when the good girls are on crack.
The opportunist is quick to thrust aside whatever he can hack.
Satan flexes in derision as the straw breaks the camel's back.
I say what I want when I need to.
Something's got to give,
For the meek and those tangled up in blue.
I have to plumb the depths for those who assert that death must be mad.
People will overlook those around them and choose to be sad.
Awareness is wealth and to be aloof is to be had.
I pray for consciousness and feel it inaugurated in a vivid darkness.
Hotter than the fumes of pain I've felt.
Madder than all the madness I've dealt.
Our season in hell is when we choose to believe that madness is wealth.
Sharing is caring and caring is wealth.
Our deepest fear fuels poverty in our richest depths.
Some minimize everything and that is more angst.
Ego is not our master but our answer to increasingly more angst.
And if we leave anything behind we leave everything behind.
Dreams are presence in a world that knows not.
Success is lost pleasure for the soul that hopes not.
A task is a task and not the meaning of the moment.
That inner war is taboo blood and will not quieten the torment.
Love will transfigure into courage any hate that thinks to torment.
Fear is an illusion of ineptitude that couldn't moot that great Will.
Save regardless of the lane and if not then switch to kill.
The promise is true.
When honesty turns off lust and madness blames pills.
Duality is simple but not integral.
There can't be two of anything or two of nothing.
The flower knows itself and the tree knows its water.
Foundation needs it support and the soul should forget whatever it wants.
Want is parasitic and lack implies defeat.
We want what we can't have when what we actually want is deceit.
When the blue sky darkens in our hearts and our soul will not be black.
The devil's actions cut through intention like a blade and all think to cut him some slack.
Striving is conquering want and never wanting to stay on track.
Poets now stutter on guns when the good girls are on crack.
The opportunist is quick to thrust aside whatever he can hack.
Satan flexes in derision as the straw breaks the camel's back.
I say what I want when I need to.
Something's got to give,
For the meek and those tangled up in blue.
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