Violent Manifestations

I’ve got a knife in my pocket
I want an excuse to draw it
to pull it from the pocket and draw blood
I just want something to do
something to make me use
the blade I carry round so casually
no one thinks it means a thing to me
like I’m just as fucking safe as I could be
but they don’t know how crazy really feeds
when normal stable people live to breed
vile and disgusting though it be
I’ve got a knife in my pocket
I want to see you bleed
violent misconception thought I’d see
no answer but the cut beneath the teeth
take it all by force so it might lead
to something so beyond what beauty means
a horrific violent drama tuned perfectly
hear the very screams that my knife brings
the pain the trauma the suffering
a display of pure affection for the need
the need to be a part of anything
moving through this life so carefully
I’ve got a knife in my pocket
I just need a reason to pull it
need to let it bleed
a violent effective remainder
of what the darkness needs

Don’t

Kill me with silence
make it into violence
a time to undress me
use me like breath please
take what you need and
and keep me around if
if you see so fit
to torture me with silence
keep those lips shut dear
chain me to the rust here
I’ll keep it real clear
I’m dying in the open air
you see me but say you don’t
as though this is all a joke
drowning in shallow water
breathing but not consuming
kill me with silence
pretend it’s not violence
as though it’s all my fault
I’ll take the blame
it’s what I want
reality so unclear
a time to undress me
I’ll make this real clear
clear I’m dying slow here
you see me but say you don’t

Take it

Everybody take it
get on your knees and say
thank you for the raping
the violence that you gave
everybody smile
smile for the camera
take what you are given
the satisfying thrill
take it like you wanted it
like you do most everyday
be too afraid to shout out
or ever ever say
this isn’t what I wanted
this is not why I payed
now say thank you to the rapist
the violent and crude
say thank you to your abuser
the ones you gave in to
say thank you for your beating
and remember to smile wide
because you never ever complained
that the price was too very high
everybody take it
get on your knees tonight
you couldn’t get the courage
to either hide or fight
so take what you’ve been given
by living suicide
hang off the noose still breathing
as you pay to slowly die

What the devil gets

I don’t respond to violence
with terror or with fear
I will not submit to evil
no the devil gets no ear
I don’t run from darkness
even when I am afraid
I will not be forced out
I will always remain
for evil doesn’t win here
and neither do your wants
I control where I go
and I never want to stop
I won’t submit to terror
to bombs, or to your guns
I don’t choose to run
when the devil comes
with everything I bleed
I fight for what is mine
the devil may have his day
but I still have my pride.

What the devil gets

I don’t respond to violence
with terror or with fear
I will not submit to evil
no the devil gets no ear
I don’t run from darkness
even when I am afraid
I will not be forced out
I will always remain
for evil doesn’t win here
and neither do your wants
I control where I go
and I never want to stop
I won’t submit to terror
to bombs, or to your guns
I don’t choose to run
when the devil comes
with everything I bleed
I fight for what is mine
the devil may have his day
but I still have my pride.

In the Congo

Black face
tar laced
everything is dark
evil is the aftermath
of nightmares being taught
struck down, drunk now
masters in the garden
everything is darker
when you think
it’s always haunted
taunted, soft lip
grips have given way
you think this is one thing
but I think you’re a slave.

Fragile Femininity

Fragile femininity
cost a lot you see
females get abusive
when you call them out
they’ve got issues with
being vulnerable in doubt
they believe they’re
powerless
they pretend to fight
fragile femininity
keeps them up at night
yes, they stay awake
anger on the brain-
what type of oppression
have I felt today
making up the list
checking them more than twice
fragile femininity
comes at a violent price.

The horror trunk

Take the blood from roots
drain the veins that feed
all the losing battles
all the love supreme
judge the one eternal
for deeds done not by them
drown the child deeper
kill the kittens dead

Neon Lights

It’s one of those nights. Those lonely nights in splendor a bored blonde stands upon a rooftop terrace. The wind blowing as it does from 15 stories high through those pretty locks the music booming right behind. Our girl dressed to the nines staring down at the Capitol lights the blood splatter in her eyes.
“Memories…” she sighs through red lips parted just so. As he steps out she pulls the end of her cigarette holder to those lips, before he speaks “got a light?” voice that sweet kind of ready.
He makes a noise and begins bumbling through his pockets until he nabs his torch. She smiles the wind tossing her hair every so tenderly as flame meets home. She breathes in.
“So baby what you doing all the way out here?” his breath stinks of schnapps. Wrapping a well toned arm around her satin wrapped waist “you should be where the action is” he hoots pulling her closer their chests colliding. At least he’s built well she smirks taking a long drag those full red lips delighted at the odds.
Some nights a girl just needs some company. He’s smelling her hair as her attention moves toward the glass doors. Neon lights in darkness shadow all the bodies the boom of the music masking the screams in her head, blood splatter still painting her eyes. “Let’s go sweet thing you can finish that inside” he was right she only came out for the view. Now it was time for a little do-si-do.
He leads her through the glass doors the bass almost nauseating “I found the golden ticket!” the stud shouts the crowd responds though nothing’s heard.
She takes a drag watching the slow exhale of the smoke-an excuse to take in the room. She follows the show pony rather guided by his grip, reaching out taking a glass of wine- she sips that red. A drop falling from lip to breast the cool sensation a flash of vindicated regret. Our blondes remembering a face she can never forget. Blood splatter and that bass is sounding thick. He twirls her suddenly out of underneath his weight in her heels she spins the wine spilling over her silver draped body her back hitting the DJ booth. The pain in her spine the trigger.
Thud then swipe the neon colored lights dancing off steel as the beat gets hot.
A flip of our miss and she’s on top the studs shoulders. Face first. He’s enamoured by her intimate wear completely missing the fact this little blonde’s cut clear through the nape of his neck. His blood soaks her thighs as she rides the stiff backwards through the crowd. The  decapitated hottie takes her to the center of the room before the timber begins to fall. To the sound of the bass she goes flying cartwheeling off shoulders before dropping heels into the eyes of another lovely guy. Knife in hand our lonely lady shakes it off the blood splatter illuminated in the dark by neon lights. A girl screams as the blonde reaches number four she sees the rolling head being kicked about the scene. The blondes knife takes another dog while the screaming girl tries to tell someone anyone what’s she seen. Finding the only man whose still breathing, but to her horror takes the words right out of her mouth literally as he shoves his tongue down her throat. She struggles still screaming-as best she can as he paws at her flesh, so after those lips. The music is thumping the tempo a heart attack as he stops her struggle with a hand crack across her face.
Above the quarrelsome pair our blondes legs twirl over the crowd, she watches, the now silent screamers face frozen in fear as the still breathing dog continues to maul. The severed head still being kicked amongst the living.
The beat drops as the observant blonde let’s long legs fall the neon lights flash red, lips sighing “memories…” her heels hit shoulders digging in-delicate fingers release the strap on either side-another pair bites the dust. Nylon covered feet drop to the ground forcing our girl between the passionate duo, her knife comfortable within the dogs chest. She turns it. Red lips next to his breathing in the taste of vodka and soda “you won’t remember me, but I still remember you.” She turns the knife again his hands about her throat weakened by the last of the poison. Oh-how girls do love their poison heels. “All of you.” Pulling her knife out thud another one bites the dust.
The neon lights keep dancing as do the drunk honeys that showed up. The damsel screamer is long gone didn’t even bother informing the gaggle, but luckily left the blonde time to retrieve the heels and saunter out before the red lights interrupt the neon shadows.