Pennies Of Innocence

I had the bricks,
The cement, the dirt,
The flirt, the right things
To say, the sun to fade away,
In my mind is a castle,
Endless hassle, endless
Sand building, endless
Rewinding—had the spread,
The right food, the right mood,
The right sanded edges of you—
The border, the borderline—
The edge of night, the edge of
Doing right—
I have this bank,
I have this plank,
I have these pennies I have
Been storing up,
I have the money all
Piled up—
This mind is a pure blood
Bank, a streaming engine
For those it is saved for—
A reservation,
A pure and Holy invasion—
I have stained it, I have
Spent it—on me, on the
Parts, on the body,
On the endless conformity
To a life of not purity—
Pennies of innocence,
Pennies of white,
Pennies of right
Are not out of sight—
I have wasted purity
Wasted it on me,
On the many parts of
Those that have wasted
It too—
Shall another generation
Live dull and dead with
Feet like lead—blood bank
Gone and spent—now I
Need the oxygen—
To live and breathe


Old man next to me,
Destroying his ease,
Bearded dreams,
Gray in the seems,
Violence around us,
I say yes to it,
I seek for it,
Perverse is the
Reverse effect on
My brain, looks good for
Five minutes, tastes like
Love, feels like intimacy,
But is the new delinquency,
Is the new death that deals
Behind me, he is perversion,
He is lost in his smoke,
His cigarette death is second
Best, his smoke and inhale
Will not send Him to hell,
His downloads downloads,
His gigabytes,
His hype,
His lonely,
His downloads,
He’s electric,
On the fence,
Hell is home
But smoke is in the way,
Fog is there to stay,
Comfort sits in this cup
I drink, do not take it
Away, do not stop me
Now, for I choose death,
I choose to download
All the foul things
That displease you—
I have the choice,
I choose darkness

Seeing Purity

Dark but lovely.Wanting to be transformed by pure and Holy things.

I gave the keys away
A long while away,
When the day did not
Fade into night in the
Right way I wanted it
To, when these eyes stay
Wide open, when I saw what
Was Holy and could not be
Removed from that kind of
Purity, for Holy is He and what
Is me but an inside of dirt and
Grime and all kinds of crime, when
I am just weak and weasel through
The days, slave through the week,
Resist the meek, accept myself to
Seek my own good and doing it
No one does these days, for what
Am I but a haze and a confused
Maze, I wind and bend around the
Same struggles and same evil making
Solutions but He chose to show me,
To show me purity and cause me to
See white and true and Holy and I
Saw it—yes I did—I saw it and now
I surrender to this kind of purity,
This kind of chastity, now I see
Clearly of my own dark that I am
In need of light—and need it