Songs for Insects

Deep in the Canadian Wilderness (1991) "In all the trade of war, no feat Is nobler than a brave retreat." 　　Butler 　Fear's my love, a lonely habit. Like a rusty needle my touch is everlasting. I've seen your God fall dying from the sky. The Eagle's a Vulture sucking at Eden. 　Children on a playground one kid's bigger than the rest. The blind stand beside him. The weak wither and die. The big kid stands defiant. Arrogant in his bliss. Thinks that sinew and knuckles can make him always right. 　I'll run from him. I'd rather hide than be dead. I'll run from him. I'd rather die than be in bloody slavery. A follower. Without destiny I'll be done. 　Someone lied about God and Country but I have a third eye politically. What will it take to tear it all down? What does it take to see the U.S. draft's a lie. 　A child in the classroom. The bastard's meaner than the rest. The meek are crushed below him. The poor are forced to crime. The big kid stands amoral. A loser as he wins. Thinks he has a worldly view by looking through a straw. 　I'll run from him. I’d rather hide than be dead. I'll run from him. I’d rather die than be in bloody slavery. A follower. Without destiny I’ll be.... 　Brokers and athletes with rich self-denial. I'll choose my winners by who wear the smiles. "Fuck the draft. Fuck the armed forces." Quote from the living

Submitted by Infernal Flame — Apr 26, 2025

Beijing, China (July 10th 1990) "And how can man die better 　Than facing fearful odds For the ashes of his fathers, 　And the temples of his gods?" 　　Thomas Babington, Lord Macaulay, 　　"Horatius" I) The Popular Left and Butterfly Government Dreams 　I sing poems of rebellion. Lax russet lips lavish scabrous empathy. Without rights I kowtow. A silly carcass burrowing forward. This reads terms of vast cosmos for Tianamen Square, or felt dampness in meat. I crave iced pavement to clot my languid flesh. Without rights I blunder. A bloated child lost in a flaccid smile. Mold and silk ripple the womb. Congested slams of Beijing. Suckle chunk water surviving rusty plumbing. Paint chips and fades the wormholed face of Mao Zedong. Insects tremble at the coming of the Year of the Cockroach. 　Visage with backwards eyes could be Sun-Yet-Sen. A friend armed with nails to help me torch the flag. 　"Leader, your steps I adore. I’ll fight along since you stand for me. I have surrendered to life's enchantment, a voluptuous passing dream." II) Sticky Slithers Royal Fly 　"Carnage?", peeped the Fly. His wings glide with sweat. Lick her foot. Consume it slowly. Blood is what I need. Raped her squirming cute face sobbing. I'm the Cockroach King. When is wrong all right? We'll banter in the cupboards. Meditate. Use Zen under the plates. Father I am. I'm you, but I've found I'm you as lethe. III) Artist at War, Flesh Armor 　Sable Saliva paints a plethora of Lindens with rugose branches and molted angst torsos. 　"Don't cry my baby brother. A martyr I was made. When the tanks just roll me over, remember where your loyalties remain." IV) Closed Door, Open Gash 　Thighs held tense and wet deserve salacious care. Risque' like death I maim guests slowly. Love is all I need. A fat bombast stripped leitmotif for the Cockroach King. A ruffian to trust? Like what kissing preludes. What rigmarole poets elude. Father I am. I'm you, but I've found I'm you; a swain. V) Drugs, Fine Wine, Revolution, and More Drugs 　The pariah's gone. Extirpated. Let's burn "His" house. Holy water drink it slowly. Where's the police tonight? Stumbling down here. Here the police will die. City water vomits harshly. Love spinning round. Flailing. Bloody water washes hardly. Sauterne, parched I suck. Blotter. Sweat and water tastes too salty now. 　Lepidoptera. One billion strong. Twenty miles wide to kill one man. 　No time to use with morals to loose. To choose. VI) Exit the Fool 　Dabble dandy sulfur daisy eye. My eye. Debatable flummery. Me free. Lilliputian ego. A rayon vest, a smooth chest. No complications. No compendium. Sangfroid. I disencumber with equilibrium. A drunkard. I am. I'm you, but I've found I'm you as dawn.

Submitted by Sexy Gargoyle — Apr 26, 2025

Kalamazoo, MI (Summer of Hate 1991) "I am an artist and therefore a liar. 　Believe everything I say. I'm telling the truth." 　Flower don't cry tonight. Raspberries kissed your melting face. Flower please hold me tight. Caress my skin, blended as one. All wrong. My lover's gone. All wrong. I’ve lost her in the cornerstone of time. Tart meat cuts emerald lips. Parts and slits. Flower is sky. Raspberry feels cannot heal. Bleeds his soul. Kicks in her teeth. All wrong. My lover's gone. All wrong. I've lost her in the cornerstone of time. Love? All wrong. My lover's gone. All wrong. I've lost her in the cornerstone of time. All wrong. My mind is gone. All wrong. I've splattered it to the stars to the grave. All wrong.

Submitted by VladTheImpaler666 — Apr 26, 2025

Denver, CO (1981-84) "...fuck you, you dumb fuck. I'm having too much fun taking drugs now." 　　Laughing Man I) Stage Set ForTwo. Tickets For One 　The Dogorez and one mike stand. A small brawl that comes between lovers. It just breaks my heart. I'm pawn life. Calls the world "Arena Grand". Bone gameshow. A small joke Christ plays on the Devil. Nielson rates it well. I'm bleached life. 　Mother's womb stop prancing around pyres of fusion hymnals. A world digested, burnt, and beveled. Just await “Q” the troubadour. 　Move your leg. Move your arm. 　The arid breast. Dry and cracked. Oozed the milk gnats thrive on. Little girls, so old and wise. Congress votes that Hell is true. 　It’s your mind. it’s my thought, but I am the killer. 　It's all right. You're my daughter. I love you. Come die in my arms, ignore clouds. Avoid rainfall. It just hurts our eyes and skin. Cling to my side, daughter of mine. II) My Daughter is the Messiah, and She Doesn't Care 　In darkness you’ll find me, and I've found that alone only you can satisfy you. 　Yawns and goes about her day. A piece of toast the morning meal. Sits on down to comb her hair. Brushed her teeth, and with tomorrow she'll do this again. 　In darkness you'll find me, and I’ve found that alone my gifted eyes love to undress you. 　The men are always boring you. Take their cash before the sun. Run the Visa to maximum. Instant dinner, the pinnacle of romance that burns you again. 　In darkness you'll find me, and I've found that as you sleep my hands will come to caress you. 　Fleeting thoughts. A simple mind. A messiah's work is never done. Just wasn’t life’s easy love. God sifts farther and farther, and won't come again; right? 　It's your mind. It's my thought, but I am the killer. 　It’s all right. You're my daughter. I love you, come die in my arms. Watch the ground. It's a graveyard for those who couldn’t sin. Murder worldwide, daughter of mine.

Submitted by Dahmers Fridge — Apr 26, 2025

Louisiana (early 1800's) "Sweet pillows, sweetest bed; 　A chamber deaf to noise, and blind to light A rosy garland, and a weary head" 　　Sir Philip Sydney 　Sedge surrounds me. Mist off the mire floats safely. Stagnant and alive. Pours in sheets. Wren feathers for sister. Oak for me to make a toy. 　Concealed both far and wide. Yes, we are one. Fragments missing and lost directions, yes, we are one. 　Puzzled mind. We are the best of friends. 　Just a little boy. So charming. A Small smile. 　Eyes blazing. Come play with me. 　Lost inside. We are the best of friends. 　Slide the pieces back. No worries, a Flux mind. 　Gears churning. 　We are one. 　There's a fawn lying in the meadow. Sniffs in the air. Smelling Mother and Father. Runs in the wind. Nothing is stopping attractions. The vision is set, and taken in. 　Concealed both far and wide. Yes, we are one. Fragments missing and lost directions, yes, we are one. 　The lea's sitting full of grain, Father. Sheep shall graze, our cottage warm; Father. 　Just above one pine lands eleven owls. Three die for love. Six die of famine and sustenance. Two fly to the West. Never seen again. 　Concealed both far and wide. Yes, we are one. Fragments missing and lost directions. Yes we are one. 　Puzzled mind. We are the best of friends. 　Just a little boy. So charming. A small smile. 　Eyes blazing. Come play with me. 　Lost inside. 　Slide the pieces back. No worries. A flux mind. 　Gears churning. 　We are the best of friends.

Submitted by The Void — Apr 26, 2025

Ireland (1922) 　"Not Hercules Could have knock'd out his brains, for he had none." 　　Shakespeare 　Here Grub go 'gain. Lick me hurts and scratch the stucco. 'Can smell the streets of Bailey McCaret, or Mama in snazzy white. Mama won't let wee grub leave. No sun, no fun, no gun to ice her. I'll love over you as we embrace each other. 　We are lonely. We are scared. We are forever. 　I am bile, I am blood. I am forever. 　The quartzite window provides a star. Grub wish n' wish for grass to roll in, or a girl to pet my cheek; but Mom comes a reeking sex and Drambule. A dirk with blades both North and South. Opposing points against our tummies. We embrace. The blades insert. As our love consumes each other. 　We are lonely. We are scared. We are forever. 　I am vomit, I am pus. I am forever. 　Mom shall dance a final ballet.

Submitted by MetalElf — Apr 26, 2025

Boston, MA (1989) "By night an atheist half believes a God" 　　Young I) Windows 　Leanna Nechlon pouts blood and tears. I taste her neck. I can now make her eyes roll to white. Her pulse rate quickens. Throbs upon my probing tongue. Stars fall above us, burning for us. Leanna became the whore that save me from life. I've lost faith. 　Decrepit falls my Boston church, cloaking us from within. I tip the cup, life's challice vermillion. The lost drug of God has won. Nine angels, obscene devices for the cruel torment of the will. Consume thy paper, it will have to guide us to Earth's Heaven above. II) Ascending Heaven 　Flashing light will envelope my body. Give me the strength I have lost but will need. Transcendental my noema develops. Pumping nectar from the darkest sun. 　Leanna Nechlon bleeds scriptures and lies. I drink her thought, poison from it. I will make her... 　As one I write, messenger of God. The inkwell empties. Words are colored life's red. III) Fall of Leanna 　Leanna stares, quenched by her fear. Sliding her hand across my face. Going down upon my lips. Feeling the blood pour so warm. Tasting like hope, love, and rust. Onto the quill it flows so quick. Finish the verse, begin another phrase of lore. Leanna laughs as her wrist fills my cup, and there I was when Leanna died. Write some more. 　As one I write, messenger of God. The inkwell empties. Words are colored life's red. IV) The Philosopher 　God exists, God is good, God is omnipotent. You can only have two of three. To choose them all you contradict. Mackie knew the rules so well he made Anselm disintegrate, as Pascal sat to toss his coins on the farthest part of the Universe. 　Dead not gone. 　Paper is my torment. The quill is my scalpel. I am my own thesis. The pain grows with the years. V) ...and with the Morning Sky 　The rain falls down my face and on silent Leanna. I've lost. The Universe calls me. Oh, Mother take me home.

Submitted by Nargaroth — Apr 26, 2025

Fulton, MI (Winter 1971) "Sweet childish days that were as long As twenty days are now." 　　Wordsworth 　On a frozen meadow lake, a breath's exhaled. A dove. It's head within it's wing. A runny-nosed child laughs without worry. Post office critics spread gossips creed. Grandma still wishes she could run. Newspaper topics "Fear Far Away". Grandma talks so young, when life was grand. 　I will stand on the window ledge. Dandelions in my hair. Hands raised towards the sky. Dying after all, was a parents lie. 　They feed us war, they feed us poverty. Melt to dust my plastic leaders. Politicians, spinning life's roulette wheel. Making money worth more than life. Macho-hero, you better back away. No emotion, yet dreaming love. Maybe I just hate people as a whole. Once again the God of Life. 　A cloud covers my face. I’ll take the time to think. The flesh is weak. My hands are clenched until my nails draw the blood of thought. The flesh is weak. 　Rise for war. Children grab guns. Rise to die for a better America. Seers of the 90’s still scream the same questions. Is there a God? Does the Universe end? What is Easter Island? Who built Stonehenge? What is the truth behind evolution. 　Rise for work. Day of responsibility. Rise for dollars to buy peace. Lost again I am upon my window ledge. My dandelions have turned to a halo of thorns. Now I comprehend why Jesus wept. The human race has been diseased with indifference. 　Pain twists upon my face. I'll take the time to think. The flesh is weak. My face shuts till my eyes pour the blood of thought. The flesh is weak. 　Of my love you will see that my love is of another kind. Drenched in blood, sugar coated. My love destroys. Of my mind you will feel that my hate is of a better kind. Be it you must, be it you will; the thorns are yours. 　Filled with despair. On the eleventh floor. With a gentle touch, I'm thrown towards the ground. Life's glorious end. 　"This country has lost its sense of priorities, and I'll not support our troops; or any other cheesy Nazi-like ad-propaganda bumpersticker dupe. I think Bush wasted enough money on parades. A celebrations that's lasted longer than the war. And no goddamn flag gets in the back window of my car, its non-running color problems are quite black and white to me. I don't betray my country, I survive my government.”

Submitted by BloodShrine — Apr 26, 2025

Venice, Italy (Summer of Smiles 1942) "Hypocrites do the Devil's drudgery in Christ's livery." 　　Matthew Henry 　In life I'm skin stretched to form my body. With life we can hope to grow old alone. In life all is well. Strapped empty to a placid dream. In the fields is where I belong. Blistered text and bleeding pens. 　In life we are one. Extensions of each other. With life we can find that death is on the outside, in life all is well, left dancing a laughing tree. In the hills is where I belong. Blistered text and bleeding pens. 　Venice please will you hide my face and change my eyes. Friends aren't friends. They look to themselves. Their advice is wrong. Selfish. Blatant. On the Bridge of Sighs a piece of bleeding art. Mold me still with plaster joints and a pompous grin. I shall die within my song. 　Your life for my life. 　The Rialto. Buy here, sell there. I see a face. Carletta. The Rialto. Thieves and lovers, mimes and jugglers, read me poems from Venetia. Of tired men with hearts of gold. Of the whore without a neck. So the palace guards could not take her head. Dead. My. Head. 　In pools we swirl beyond the point of transition. All must try. All must fail. 　The Renaissance Ants crawl deep in her mouth, yea. Across her breasts and within her thighs. Christ has known these thighs before. The Ants of Enlightenment have her moaning to their cause. She chews on the ants still trapped in her teeth. Christ has known this mouth before. 　At the Grand Canal Carletta cries. The gondolier says, "Wipe your face, whore". I just laugh, now looking down. The gondola's a paper swan. Pulp. 　On the mezzanine I watch the old man scream. Like cats ripping doves apart wing by wing. Violins, tangerines, and one glass eye. I love Carletta and with that I sigh. 　Who wins? Who wins you? Forgive? Forgive. I could not choose; and both poets lose. We lose. "Do not all charms fly 　At the mere touch of cold philosophy?" Keats

Submitted by BloodShrine — Apr 26, 2025

Athens, MI (Autumn 1989) "Let none think to fly the danger 　For soon or late love is his own avenger." 　　Byron I) The True Inner Death 　Good bye; bye, bye Marrow Lake. Bone white and dying below a harvest moon. A dying lake. A burning moon. I make the analogy. There was a girl who took my words and ground them into sand. To be blown, and spat, and tossed across this fine line. I will not, never will, never, never let her win. 　Doing what Ma said. You'll raise shields of doubt. Please just trust. 　From my heart the crimson spreads. Moistening passion grows intense. You’ll bear an hourglass, thinking controlling time. Come rape my thoughts, my minds spread-eagle. An emotional swingset to be played inside. Writhing body clenched to mine. I feel her scrape, our legs entwined. You'll bear an hourglass, thinking never die. Biting my lip, and arching your back. The burning, the rhythm, the pain. 　This lake has lost it's will. This lake can see beyond a matrix of lies and doubt. Oh God, it's done. The moon controls my tides but it can't control my thought. 　Doing what Ma said. You'll raise shields of doubt. Please just trust. 　From my heart the crimson spreads. Moistening passion grows intense. You'll bear and hourglass, thinking controlling time. Come rape my thoughts, my minds spread-eagle. An emotional swingset to be played inside. Writhing body clenched to mine. I feel her scrape, our legs entwined. You’ll bear an hourglass, thinking never die, biting my lip, and arching your back. The burning, the rhythm, the pain. II) I Have Dreams To Forget 　Those of God forgive my dreams. I've spat on Christ. I've made him bleed. We pass the Cup. Some say it swallows smoothly, but it grants a burnt throat and narrow eyes. Watch my steps, they lead below ground. It has no bottom, and with one step we'll laugh as one. Seeing a worldly picture of dead seas, carnage, and life without control. 　Faceless gather. Fish to land. Watch my fire dance hand to hand. Her face so pure. Widening eyes of white tempting me to challenge them, to show them light. The crowd then thins. I know them well. Dustin laughs, Paul then melts. Chris pours Paul into a cup of crystal. Dustin laughs, and Chris and him both implode for life. III) Rational Mindscrew 　Subdivide. Sub-collide. Theorize, molecules split asunder. I am not over here or there, a machine trapped in lust, and I'll sing.... 　Colonize. Rectify. Apologize. I'm friend and murder, I am not forgiving nothing. A machine killing all, and we’ll sing....

Submitted by johnmansley — Apr 26, 2025