I won't suffer, be broken, get tired, or wasted
Surrender to nothing, or give up what I
Started and stop it, from end to beginning
A new day is coming, and I am finally free

Run away, run away
I'll attack
go chase yourself

I would have kept you, forever, but we had to sever
It ended for both of us, faster than a ...
Kill off this thinking, it's starting to sink in
I'm losing control now, and without you
I can finally see
Fight!

Your promises, they look like lies
Your honesty, like a back that hides a knife
I promise you (promise you)
And I am finally free

* 30 Seconds To Mars

 [ .pushing.echoes. ]

my king and cutting
are still down here
where nothing is real
nothing we are keeping
or holding out on
as its easier to put it up
all those things for granted
up against the radio skies

and those marks
that we all still have
running down our cheeks
built from the forms of memories
which are switching our faces
like pushing echoes
of your grace and giving

but I'm not hiding in this skin
no, just keeping myself
barely above your water
that's rushing to drown us down
fighting to keep my works
from brimming over
in this stirring silence
that's rising up to meet
our final counting hours

© Bryan McLean Mar 26 2006,
excerpt from 'Dark Transmutations'

So lets face it, this was never what you wanted
But I know its fun to pretend
Now blank stares and empty threats
Are all I have…
They’re all I have…

So drown me... if you can
Or we could just have conversation
and I fall, I fall, I faulter.
I found you before I drift away

Now you still speak of day old hate
Though your whole world has gone up into flames
And isn’t it great to find that you’re really worth nothing
And how safe it is to feel safe

So drown me and if you can
Or we could just have conversation
And I fall, I fall, I faulter.
But I found you before I drift away

The things we do just to stay alive (x3)
The things we do just to keep ourselves alive.

~Dallas Green, City & Colour, "that.guy" from AlexisOnFire

[ .nine.tuesdays.out. ]

cutting below this
where we rest
because we are all in so deep
and can't breathe our breath out
without the late hours
to cure us warmly
and keep us aimed homeward

bound down in sounds
we make at breaking lights
where the traffic flickers
under fog heavy ruin
and fat waiting lines
that run the length of glass
that's keeping your faces back

handfuls of little lit bombs
like weighted moth mounds
that are bulging and shifting
and eager to flee
from my finger tips
and cutting nails
sadly knowing all this time
that they could have built me better

where your face is glowing
still wet from the early air
that's making all these stinging eyes
turn from frown and away
missing your burdened lines
that streak and coarse down
harshly finding each cracked edge
that's in my holding wake

© Bryan McLean Mar 20 2006,
excerpt from 'Dark Transmutations

 [ .girl.with.words. ]

do you read what you write baby?
or is it just a functionary regime
that your fingers take flight with
against the thoughts that keep you
marking out your guess work
that edges in or echoes outside
of the lines you keep lending
that seem so much like truths
that just can't be for real
even when your singing is down
in heavy lines on the paper
you keep carrying with you

© Bryan McLean Mar 20 2006,
excerpt from 'Dark Transmutations
in Our Night Time'

Night Snow 

I was surprised my quilt and pillow were cold,
I see that now the window's bright again.
Deep in the night, I know the snow is thick,
I sometimes hear the sound as bamboo snaps.

~Bai Juyi [772- 846] Bai Juyi was also known as Bo Juyi and Po Chuyi. He wrote in the Mid-Tang period. He was one of the most prolific of all Chinese poets, but is best known for his short occasional verses written in simple language.

sophistication satisfies the insatiable sufferer in these sadly saturnine times...

:bmc

Remember, remember the fifth of November
The gunpowder treason and plot.
I see no reason why gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot.

Guy Fawkes, twas his intent
To blow up king and parliament.
Three score barrels were laid below
To prove old England's overthrow.

By God's mercy he was catched
With a dark lantern and lighted match.
Holler boys, holler boys, let the bells ring
Holler boys, holler boys, God save the King.

where are the fawkes' that hope for change, or are made example of to drive our fear?

for more info on this bit of propaganda : http://www.bonefire.org/guy/g...

[ .the.man.of.the.hours. ]

gun to the ballet floor
he's handed one down
in his stitch-up riot suit
against the shine and lack-luster
used to wake us
from our burning time
were we walk in fevered segments
under blankets
sweaty and swollen
with our prone figures

his eyes are groping out
hands on every ugly surface now
reaching each curve
each contour speaking out
just to him
smoothing out deftly
freshly showered surfaces
all supple for the taking

roaming over the room
he's your david
all in stereo
sculpted cleanly on the sides
rough lines gone
but still massing
at your rebel table
holding down the watchworks
on our plates and pander

cannot anymore place it
in its eloquence
our writhing words
all hollowed out now
where he knows
our flaccid intent
is on display
just like he knows you
all gory insides-out

but he's watching
smoking from his wall
our every beaten step
slipping as our heads drop
and the lies keep longer
steaming from our mouths
that touch with aching breath

holding on
until they cut me down
in all my gory glory
soaked through
bindings still clear
and cutting
at my sides & shoulders
are the words you've used
just to tie me up here
the ones he's written down for record
jotting in his little books & scraps
under brim where his eyes only know

it works every hour
my head never stops
because it knows
every footprint behind me
is his in turn and in time

figured I'd go out loud
but its all so quiet
still empty of any peace
only his breathing
is tracing my awareness
as it echoes off of edges
and make new sounds
that are so familiar

those shapely sounds
drowning me heavily
under thick memories
that thought could be traded
for one more shining day

where hands keep everything
right in its aching place
away from the man
that watches my hours
from inside skin, lip and lid

Sheila liked the rodeo
She'd take a ringside seat
She'd murmur
doo-dee-doo-dee-doo
She'd eat
Then one day wild Eliza bolted
and knocked her off her seat
She now sits in my wardrobe
She's discrete
She is perfectly preserved

Sondra liked the circus
She'd bounce around on trampolines
She'd swing between the lampshades
And lunched on lighted kerosene
One fine day she leapt to Rio
And finished in between
She's resting in the bathroom now
Peachy clean
She is perfectly preserved

I get a head
And I keep it
I pop it in my mouth

Krista quoted Castenada
She munched her cactus raw
The mescal worm would turn to mecca
And squirm towards the door
And one day she swilled the pill
that pinned her to the floor
She spaced out in the closet
I adore her
She is perfectly preserved

~Tear Garden