On a Nightly Basis
I wake up everyday wondering if today is the day I can manipulate my own fate. I look out over these midwest, rolling, hills, and all I can see are mangled bodies on the horizon, drawing flies and circling vultures, in a dance of macabre that tastes sugary sweet in a bitter mouth. My blood stings as it slides through my veins, filling me with a stale oxygen that stagnates in my bodies intricate web of wet mechanics. All illusion is a psychological blind eye, casting smoke in the physical, and mirrors in the mental. Perception is a key that no longer fits many doors when whores are printing the pulpits and doctrines and honor lays, bleeding out slowly from a stomach wound, on the floor. Dead but not alone. Just like me to be a king on a crooked throne. Throwing off sparks with my tantrums and self serving whims. Pushing back clocks just to make my demands of time, bending space to suit my divinity.
Precariously delusional, wedding a palpitating heart on bended knee. My ceramic wings are cracked, I chipped my teeth on broken glass that told a story in blood that stained, of a tree that carved itself a new name in history. I have been deathly afraid of my own transcendance. Hiding my strength behind my shame to shake responsibility for my chronic displays of weakness. I prefer to blame my origins, but the truth is always less convenient. Less comfortable. A sore you tongue in your sleep, sub consciously. Eating dreams, I'm a dream eater teething on tired themes. A recurring, abysmal, cut that seeps and bleeds to suit its needs. A ghost on a soap box preying to go back. The drums roll in like thunder, pulling us all asunder. This is the breach that crafted the division. A true to life audible atrocity that does not relent. This is a fault. A liability. The way I speak to decipher the screams and whispers that swirl around my head, a conscious whisping smoke that stains my soul with no regret or sorrow. This is the path I followed down a winding interstate lined with effigies of its fallen victims. Consumed in grinding metal and confused darkness, sharply thrashing about haphazardly through the unknown to an untimely and unbecoming doom. The gloom still hanging thick in the atmosphere. We're all beneath a funeral sky, whispering pleads into the night despite our best intentions. I'll admit the beauty in the entropy, there's always something beautiful 'midst the atrophy, and I'm the first to screen my prey, writing a script to guard my truancy. My vision, still blurry in the morning sun. I can't remember where I've been or what I've done. Short term memory lapse in a stop go community of thieving rats. I'm a wolf in a pack that still stands alone with a heart of silver and a head of stone. Henged on the peak of eternity. Through my eyes the tide has shown the path back to where we all belong beside each other in an azure dawn aglow with confidence with what we have done. Forgiving myself for sharing my dreams. Forgetting to forget that you forgot me. Bleeding to quickly to stifle the scream. Stir from my slumber, awake from the dream. My ambition changes what laid in between. Now I am unstoppable, and soon I'll be free. Indifferent to memories of the darkness in me. Look through the tunnel, its the fire I bring.
Title: Onslaught Artist: Entropy (Prolix Noah Riley)
Ronin
I speak money with my hand on the hilt.
Hagakure, motherfucker, that philosophy instilled.
I'm about to slice it up like I'm hand forged steel.
And I'm comin for your sister because she's my last meal as a mortal.
I'm becoming more than words and stones, and steel, and blood,
That portals opened up again and I can see inside it to the future where the darkness is a plight, and you can't fight it.
Man I'm bout to hide the sun somewhere where nobody can find it.
Call me Thoth, I steal the light and redistribute it to minors.
With the petrichor
Apt metaphor,
I'm a different sort.
Demigod with an orphan heart, its sinking to the ocean floor.
Bout to raise the tide up and collide to end this classist war.
The thirteenth step is relapse, bro, I guess blood's my addiction.
Core reaction for the misinformed, stand too close and be transformed,
Consumed by all the weight that's on my shoulders since I've been reborn, again.
Another day to mend the slack jawed whims of newborn men, a constant tide, I can't pretend I'm baffled by the way it's been.
But, history does repeat itself, like resurrection's card's been dealt.
Like I've got rage, but none to quell, boy, I stand tall, while you all fell.
Out of sight, out of mind, off the wagon, out of time, couldn't even play your hand if you we're running from the nine, couldn't even watch you back, because I kill you all with rhyme, if you want to argue that then I suggest that you rewind.
Because my vestment is in entropy.
My brother's standing next to me.
The vestiges will soon be seen
Prepared to take you from your dream,
And purge the world, with no vaccine,
May fire cleanse, from earth to sea.
Salute me now, for I am he.
The king of all that's soon to be.
Another metaphysical calamity, believe in me and I will lead you onward into territory seldom seen.
A murderer of murderers,
from verse to hearse to lift this curse, This thirst from birth to heal this church,
Formed first before the fires,
Burned to cinders in the pyres,
Pull me back among the sirens,
To sing a song that will ignite men.
Against the grain that's stained with blood, a stagnant soul that's out of luck, your shoulder's fully straining and you buckled under pressure.
Because you're no fucking atlas, never had a chance to shrug before I melt your wax like Icarus and toss your father to the fucking sun.
Our father never got a chance to love a son he'd never touch, so painted me death with a brush constructed out of reflex.
The end is nigh.
A sightless eye.
A breathless sigh.
A silent night.
Acerbic bite.
These words take lives.
The pavement moves,
And you can call me devil's advocate.
Yesterday
Yesterday I lost my mind.
Burned a man alive to save his life.
Beneath my wings I christened all an image of refracted light.
So take a breath or slam a drink, drown the voices, out of reach.
I'm lost in a cacophony of whispered words, and seldom seen.
Elusive and reclusive.
An enigma pushing through the veil.
So cock the hammer back and aim to hit the chest with coffin nails.
I fought the masters tooth and nail,
For them to scar my cheeks and hands,
And push me down into the streets where I was born to make the final stand.
Choking on the shards of all my bittersweet.
I aim to meet my maker.
Shake the hand of flesh.
They told me I can't be your savior.
Never waver, radiant.
A ghost with keys to consciousness.
Perdition waits to savor souls that slip on ice and break the myth that truth and knowledge had a hand in discontented, violent men.
Surely wisdom is as bleak as I, who stares into the sun to find a light to guide me home, but in the end I'm blind.
My virus sighs.
Dejected.
Always ran the game.
Never ever had a name.
Never had a chance to take my place, and lead you back to grace.
You could say that I'm the second coming,
But truth is that I've always been.
Vilified. Like I'm the only serpent you found shedding skin.
The information doesn't pose a threat if you don't understand.
But in my hand's a words a weapon, a phrase is how I'll bury man.
Now I don't want my name in lights, I want carried in our DNA.
Propagated on until my bloods the only blood that stains.
I'm sure to leave a scar this time.
My desperation drives behind ambition.
That's the vital sign.
You made your bed, this world is mine.
Onslaught 5
I have a soul that festers like sores in a tired mouth.
Blacking out to nightly images of violence, art, and doubt.
The sirens ring out.
The sirens sing a swan song to sentiment as sorrow cuts the discourse, slaying soldiers silently while they sleep.
That's what its like to dream.
To think you understand anything.
But pain is the greatest teacher,
Fire cleanses,
May they bury me in words, long before they find my bones,
Like they buried me in numbers long before I left the womb.
Life's an exit wound to consciousness,
A thoughtless trist with a mortal's kiss, to feel the coil slip the wrist, and break the neck when the noose ill fits.
We're stamping over foot prints made
By giants in the sand, bleaching out such petty intellect, with the arrogance of man.
Intrinsic nature pulls the cart along the path to self destruction, hauling skeletons and closets, filled with baggage.
Claustrophobic notions.
Motion the appeal to be shot dead by all your peers,
Like your running through a street of cheering demons,
Dodging jeers.
But my fear is we will never change, we've always been, so every time I'm on the soap box I recognize that I can't win.
Angels in the Snow
I'm still looking for some angels in the snow,
She can feel me there,
And hear my heart beating, like she didn't know that I was all alone, still bleeding out.
Bones still shifting under skin, I can feel again, and shapes my whims towards something more becoming than what I have been.
The years passed by in blurs of bearing burdens, as I yearned for something interesting to disconnect my burning soul.
Consistent with the doom and gloom, creating in a different hue, raise the tide and shape the moon around what I have planned.
Subdued, in truth, what I have reached for is a hand that's never there.
Preaching to a tired audience that never really cared.
Never got a glimpse at who I am, the mirror's at that shit again, convincing me that I'm a man, but ghosts don't breathe the air around them, they consume the room.
I've shifted, shaken, stumbled over crutches, I have fumbled everything I ever wanted to accomplish, but never stopped in my belief that I am more than earth and sea, my grasp by far exceeds my reach, and I am fluent when I teach to a captive audience.
Trying qualms of squalling trends who move through rooms as men, half bent of grain and escapist dreams of sand and bustling leaves.
Move through the layers of their themes to play the game and pay my heed to ancient hymns that float on through the breeze infecting wonder in me.
Wander lust to bust the mold of recurring scenery that unfolds before my eyes in time to hide my past from who I'm trying to leave behind the stained glass of the church that I abandoned.
But my pulpits blazing,
Coffin spires raising into gaze again.
The encampment set to sweep you all away inside a haze.
But don't worry, I'll be there to save you.
Made of sentiment and will, the sediment and ash of philosophy is still instilled in my blood, coursing through my body, making god me, got me shedding skin until I peel a layer back, and I believe I have risen to the challenge, anxious to tip the balance in favor of those less callous, enlightened by all the violence, and fed up with all the lies inside.
My prying eyes uncover a plan to unify the tide and take back what was ours, and leave the bullshit by the wayside.
The clock in time with sun and sky, the flag waves pride while rays of light bleach away the color and the plight of vibrant height, set us aside ourselves to heal the veil and fight amongst ourselves to sell the notion that we're worth less than an ounce of gold, so set the sail, and raise the banner high into the night so we can come and storm the castle, kill the king, and say goodbye to everything we leave behind.
This chapter is where we arrive,
Reignite the fires, bright.
Unify the coming mind.
This is where we leave the past behind.
Pulpit Burning
I'm not a man with choices anymore.
Follow the noise and voices.
Hold the pockets close, don't let it go if you're in close enough to reach.
The doom and gloom I preach to teach the kids of what's expected when the barrels in your mouth and your shame goes uncollected.
When you back's against the wall, and the flames drain your connections.
You're an animal in a cage, and the mechanisms lack expression.
Emotion, emulate the empathy through entropy.
The line is filled with static, waiting constantly to get at peace.
I've known my suffering and it's about to sing its swan song.
Lift these ashes on the breeze and turn around to carry on.
I'm about my father's work.
From thirst to thirst to hearse from birth.
A cowards wage is a paper pittance, paying the toll for his lack of ambition.
It's a leap of faith to get where it's written, and when my word's are in red, there are worse fates than prison.
By demons be driven,
It's a cop-out for lacking will.
Take responsibility for what you steal.
Be conscious of what edge you wield.
And more than anything refuse to yield to anything that comes between you and your intuition.
Because people hear, but seldom listen.
They'll doubt everything you have to give them.
Even after your king has risen, hold your words, they won't miss them.
But, me, I found some beauty.
So against the gain, I'm pulling.
Have to get this pulpit burning.
Scorch the land, then build a furnace out of ire, raise the birthing pyre, everyone learns faster on fire.
The more you take away, the more I have to gain.
Every slight you'll see the tide inside my eyes swelling higher.
Every fight you'll see the flames inside my heart burning brighter.
Every blow you'll see the earth inside my veins pushing tighter.
Every fall you'll see the air that shapes my wings lift me higher.
Don't underestimate my soul, or the power that holds.
Come with me into the fold.
And deal out death to those who hold us.
Beyond the thoughts of the poor.
Behind the tired eyes of the meek.
Ostracized no more.
Burn the pulpits.
We are kings.
Patricide Freestyle
And that reminds me of the last thing that my father said right before he died.
He said "stop, son, that gun is..."
Loaded. Right.
Round the bend we're coming anxious from the blood lust.
Our stomachs burning, hungry, thirsty,
Let the violence become us.
We come up under stars that strain to seek us out through all the haze with heads filled with redemption from the sins that spawned the end of days.
So place the clip and cock it back, release until we find our grace.
With blood on skin and bone, we are the hood, no need to mask our face.
We come up from the bottom seeking justice from what wronged us.
With dirt on all our hands we stand as one united, and we won't stop 'cause
Whether people or the system we came to fuck up all the gears within.
Dismantle the machine like ghosts, but when we ride we fight like men.
With fists and bone, fuck steel and edge.
That pussy shit got us all on this ledge.
So climb back down into this pit and face us once, but don't forget we're desperate and we're boxed in and if the only way out is through them then well punch a whole so goddamn big the flood will drown the captain and the crew.
So fuck the frustration.
We're coming through you and we're armed, man, take the wheel, I'll run this through you to the hilt until the blood can't help but spill.
I guess the truths a bitter pill.
Playful through the splatter, cracking jokes, and causing laughter.
When I'm through I'll cease the chatter and they'll applaud, man,
I'm the ladder to that higher ground they always speak of.
Cutting through the entropy,
And working through the atrophy.
I'm wading through the broken dreams.
Sleeping on the skeletons.
Victory, not vengeance.
If I packed a bag it probably means I'm conquering somewhere more interesting.
Also, I mean.
Because this shits mine, it's got my name carved in the side so no one can forget my reign of dark, you can read that shit from the fuckin sky.
You can read it in your favorite book, I am the one you all mistook, if you turn a stone, if you split some wood, you'll find me there.
My will divide.
Fated Circle
I've burnt my tongue in thirst of something I can't even recognize as peace.
You've forced my hand,
I've shed the man,
Now I've become the beast.
Between my heart and the angels on my shoulders, I've been glaring into vacancy to see the smoke and mirrors.
Hold up,
Another hand without a soul to validate it's grace, or correlate its motivation, serve your masters, save some face.
But me, I've served too many and my morale is wearing thin, I can only save myself and shake the pride off all my whims.
Just another disillusioned orphan feeding off the shit they feed him.
Better at romanticizing the intricacies of pain than a masochist buried in a self sustained fame dragging razors across the skin just to ease the fucking blame, shaking tension off the shoulders like he had something to gain.
So skip the sutures and go straight for the welding torch, we need to fuse the bones across our chests just to protect our heats from all the egocentric bitterness that burrows in that cynicism like mites in skin until we're undone and wearing thin.
Playing devil's advocate, and that's not even the half of it.
At least between the serpent and the tree of life and knowledge.
Hearing voices whispering through the darkness.
And I doubt my father more now that I'm picking through his carcass.
Got a closet full of skeletons, enamel wearing thin, the veil that bridged my past with the man that I am now may rest in pieces.
Like dust and ashes are in fashion juxtaposed to suit my madness.
Crass reaction, splattered faction, with this hand I crafted a fractured psyche to get me through the turmoil of 22.
Recoil, and put it through, this systems ghost is worse than you with proof to correlate the depth of sin, I've come unglued.
Subdued by my own pathetic adoration for the dharma.
Trauma coated fated circle of thieves all reaching out to me to sate their thirst and glorify the taste of all they took from me.
So blessed be the meek at hand, for we hold all, but our souls are damned.
Inclined to separate our faith from earth to sky,
We're on the take and mending all our desperate wings in search of something sand and brine.
Scattered brain, and shattered heart,
Who takes the blame if you can't remember the start?
The last thing your realize you need is what you've already got.
And my time is out.
This Gun Aimed at a Pseudonym
I've been cold.
Chip on the shoulder.
I rose.
No home to go to.
So close between the issues.
So far, I couldn't miss you.
Thing is,
I wouldn't wish to.
My life's nothing against you.
But I'm more of a symbol,
While you're a lost agenda.
Couldn't flip the script, react to all the bullshit flyin' out your mouth, sometimes its harder to forget than forgive where I started out.
In the gutter, not a metaphor anymore.
We're the sort to brave the storm, even livin in car, with a dog in december, in detroit, not my memory, but all my friends have come up eatin on the same shit as me. And shit is deep when broken kings and queens pick up the game, because we never had a dime to lose, and everything you have is gain.
So take from me, my last advice, a word is all I have to give. They took it all away from me before I even threw it in. And where I've been the shadows dance across the wall in pretty prose, but when you get up close that shit deteriorates and your lifes exposed, for the sham it is. Not a demons kiss. But I came up learning from the fists and fifths. And the light bulbs busting from the residue within, how the fuck could I trust in you to have my back again? You're supposed to be my father, but you're not even a friend. Never listened to a word I said. I won't say it again. And all the shit between us shouldn't mean a thing, through all the skin, but you never could reach out a hand to feel me hurt, guess bloods worn thin.
I'm a shallow mess, crept up from an empty bottle, now this smoke is in my lungs and I am choking on the lies that I've been fed.
Full of it, full of shit, full of nothing, full of you.
Follow through the sound residing in my soul to see the blue paint splattered out across my dying lawn.
Its a new day to mourn my loss of innocence.
25 years of constructing fences, burning bridges, fickle friendships, falling off the wagon, and I never missed it.
Quick to hit the bottle for escape.
Burn the wedding gown.
Cut the ring in half and toss it in the river so it sleeps sound.
I'm ashamed I never come around.
Afraid I'm lost and won't be found.
God save me now before I drown me out again,
And he comes 'round.
I'm a better man without you.
I'm a better man despite you.
I'm a better man in spite of you.
Doomsayer
Its never crossed my mind that anyone could find a power greater than my own.
You told me to protect my neck.
I told you to watch your fuckin throne.
Because lately I've been prone to string my gods up by the neck, and let the rain wash away any evidence of their death.
Because I'm an antihero, antithesis, antichrist, call me legion, but only call me when it's time to say goodnight.
Feel the onslaught of adrenaline,
I've been to hell and back again,
And conquered all the gods and men that dared to bar my passage into heaven.
I'm not the devil but I play a damn good advocate.
I push the thoughts so deep into your skull they carve a habit.
Atrocity will soon be seen.
The skeletons left in between.
The violence guides us, hidden from the masses, fade to black, end scene.
But, this is me as a masochist.
Blood on my fists with a broken kinship.
Rotting pews and a pulpit made of bone spurs, shaking off the sentence, face to face with my savior.
Staring at the speculum to gleam the face of entropy,
in between papyrus sheets they prey to me on bended knee,
and hand me seeds of ruin to end the truancy of righteous kings.
I'm born into the night to bear the burdens of the seldom seen.
Esoteric, coming for the clergy to end the thirst,
my battle lines been scripted from my death until my birth,
Forget about the ambulance you better call the hearse,
You'll be in hell for eons before you ever feel that burn.
So print my face on wanted signs to reenact the west and you can can waste the six straight in the chest and I'd still have nine left to resurrect the tide and take the breath of anyone who's left behind to bleed or bow to me, it's best to give me my due breadth, son.
This is my world.
You just rent space.
Take a bow now,
You've been replaced.
Burn you all to cinders, the abyss between my fingers.
I've been hunting monsters, I've become a monsters, this is my time, I will rise and take what's mine, what you just said I won't rewind, won't give the time to hear the subtle please for peace or mercy, I'll just drown all this shit out in the very blood that nurtured me, a beast.
So take a swig of whiskey and press your hands into the dirt.
You can feel the steel against your skull before I neutralise your worth.
It's been suicide since birth, so place the clip and cock it back.
Just let it go man, where I stand the sands of time won't cut you slack.
And neither will I.
Music, Art, Literature, and Violence