The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Anniversary Number Four
17:58 Jun 30 2012
Times Read: 450




Anniversary number four,

the wine the hypocrites enjoy...

it's a good year.



They buy it off the shelves in bulk,

the white trash get more bang for buck

and pour it to the sky;

maim their children,

no one cries.



*That's the fourth of Jul...

that's the fourth of Jul...

that's the fourth of July.*



...Celebrating recession with a smile,

firing rockets at the river Nile;

hope they hit someone,

that's why we bought the jumbo pack!



We could be fighting for more wage,

or less working days,

instead we maim.



Thanks conservatives for forsaking public safety.

Didn't take you long...

legalizing weapons grade fireworks;

so long as it's not in your neighborhood, you don't care.



Everyone, quick!

Throw a fireworks party near Eric Cantor's house. The police will get their in fifteen minutes;

maybe sooner, I mean he is rich and white.



Them congress people are too uptight.



Anniversary number four,

the toast to our lack of freedom,

...where we celebrate our slavery with a bang.



To appease the passive masses, they give us lights and flashes

and we purr. Anything to make them serf brains dumber.



...And you hear it out your window late at night, *explosions*

the pretty colors, the firefly ballet with stars. Raining fire towards the ground. Shooting stars of gunpowder bliss; make a wish.



*That's the fourth of Jul...

that's the fourth of Jul...

that's the fourth of July.*



Your wishes won't come true.

Our Crime Is Love, Our Fate Is Murder
19:46 Jun 26 2012
Times Read: 453

Our crime is love,

our fate is murder;

...look into my eyes, my partner in crime

and we shall gravely rot together.



Two fugitives, in time

separated for our lives;

our hearts, a distant murmur

...barely cried;

but my dearest Molly Judith,

I shall be your grave;

...and serve this deadly sentence on my own.



For every morning, I awake;

from dreams of you

...and knowing you,

wondering what’s a dream,

unable to discern

...the harsh realities

of this punishment called our lives;



If I survive,..

I will be the forever beacon to our love;

our crime against humanity,

our defying of reality,

our great rebellion;

...to be ourselves.



In the eyes of my partner in crime,

in the heart which beats my flame

where synchronous are our souls,

gleaming in the dark light,

where none can see that flame no more,

I feel the bars pressed against me,

knowing that ultimate punishment,

with a bullet in my brain,



I’m trapped within my mind;

our heart,

our greatest crime;



...our fate is murder.



-----------------------------------------------------------------------------



Molly Judith Olgin and Mary Christine Chapa, *both 15* were shot through the head.



Their crime? Love.

The Paperweight Of Prose
21:02 Jun 18 2012
Times Read: 457




I sleep idle,

on my feet I've closed my eyes;

Never moving, speaking or noticing.



I sleep idle,

on my feet, I do not snore;

breaths so faint, not heard before

but still I stand.



I stand, idle

erect and proud;

oblivious to sound;

...smell and touch;

I do not notice much.



Cart me to oblivion,

I stand;

...impervious to sands,

the hourglass has froze

for I, the paperweight of prose.

20:49 Jun 18 2012
Times Read: 458

We dwell in flesh a cage, a morbid prison stagnant;

...vile to the touch and perforated,

extended drawn out years,

...decaying.



A brief existence, a blip in absent time;

which fills eternity

...and suffocates

the wasted moments.



We live in fabrication; artificial fragment dreams,

the fall of our creation, our minds;

...our vehicles of imagination;

disappeared.



We are the canvas wet with paint without an artist.



We are the notes without a song.



We are the story book without an ending.



...The worst comic every drawn.



A segregated birth of pain,

a line of border harbored hate;

the living room is dimly lit and none aware the bulbs are dying.



Will the monkeys venture forth in search of kindling

before the fire’s gone?

...Or will the void nocturne conjure light

in the night eyes of natural selection?

Personification Of Pain, Hear My Name!
01:26 Jun 10 2012
Times Read: 468

Personification of pain, hear my name.

you torment me.

Your vile presence haunts me, and it makes my heart aflame.

I dream of escaping into soothing rain, but those are simple dreams.



Personification of pain, hear my name.

It’s calling.

A word if nothing more, has meaning to the ears;

where symbols are much more then screams

...and the wind’s howl is more then sound.



Personification of pain, hear my name.

From the distance,

where light my jowl, the sunshine air,

the scowl I wear,

is what you gave me.



A present of torment;

a badge of pain

...I’m bleeding.

Where Heark Thee Summer?
01:18 Jun 10 2012
Times Read: 469

Where heark thee summer through the effervescent wind, and hiding;

where heark thee? Your formless form -- your vapor

where hides the wind your presence?



I saunter holding hands, oh rain clouds. Where do your spirits roam?

Where lurk your coolness? In the final missive of your eve,

I’m waiting, dreaming afore.



Where heark thee summer? Through the brambles I can feel no heat nor burning

yet the flames surround me vast. Where drifts your presence through seven seas,

where hides that shade that heals the pain? I can do no more but wait another summer.

Pocket Book Democracy
21:19 Jun 06 2012
Times Read: 473

I think we should take out our pocket books collectively,

"Pocket Book Democracy" we shriek in the cold night air,

just before our realization of futility was exposed.



"Pocket Book Democracy" it echoes through the vacuum of the night,

where none are listening, where many are pondering

where they should throw their pocket books to burn.



"Pocket Book Democracy" a sham catastrophe,

a supermarket supreme, where all the lobbyists go to buy their policies.

And all the politicians lined up cheap, *no admittance* says the sign, there's a fee and minimum salary

...required.



"Pocket Book Democracy" and what's the point of living?

Knowing you will never have a say in how you live.

Have no money, have no dreams

...and bow before your masters and their pocket books;

collectively,

the new indentured slavery,

we are the serfs!



"Pocket Book Democracy" We shriek into the cold dead night,

the wasteland ruins that once were hope and life before us

like a canvas skewed with mud, a painting ruined

a civilization stunned,

"Pocket Book Democracy" we mutter, "democracy; there is none."



I think we should take out our pocket books collectively,

"Pocket Book Democracy" we shriek as the wallets burn.

We do not need them anymore, there's a minimum salary requirement

...and after the wallets;

it's our turn.

The Secrets
21:48 Jun 02 2012
Times Read: 479




The secrets,

oh the secrets;

oh the secrets I so long to know;



hide and seek, oh secrets;

find the secrets, off I go.



Through files, through alleys,

through ocean depths, I seek;

hide and seek, oh secrets

hide from me? You dare not think.



Corruption, theft and crimes of war,

your crimes I'll find, and seek some more;

so long as there are secrets hiding,

I'll play a game of hide and seek.



Till there are no more secrets.



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



Dedicated to Julian Assange and to all journalists whose lives are in peril from a system trying to hide the truth.