Scire



(i) Over-the-Hill

When you’re no longer blinded by the beauty of beauty, the days become more or less the same.
I’ve swallowed all the pieces that cut you open from the inside: vanity is a broken mirror.
Fast cars, loud exhaust pipes, screaming girls, and oil. Lots of oil.

(ii) The Activists

Can you hear nature scream when the pink-haired crazies run around in the city destroying art?
They cannot create, kill, or debate. Punctured tire: a government tool for hire.

(iii) Clamp

The order’s coming to an end.
It’s above, or below.
The new world will try to stand.
Break its legs, or shake its hand.

(iv) The Customer

As you breathe in order to survive, live, and win.
They will move ahead, dividing you by the color of your skin.
Abort the young, euthanize the old.
Your organs are theirs; you’re bought, paid for, and sold.

(v) The Loop

War, our old pal and lifelong friend.
Love will win. The devil will grin.
Souls of billions go down the drain.
Propaganda to reset the brain.
It’s all you’ll ever know.
Campaign, entertain, show.

(vi) Reminiscence

What happened to the happiness of our youth?
Swallowed by the Bermuda Triangle in the sky, perfectly timed.
I miss the days when we unwrapped presents and sang songs with words that rhymed.
The stars were perfectly aligned.
No big bang could keep us apart.
I’d put my hand on your chest and feel the beat of your heart.

(vii) Questions No One Answers

Do you get answers from above?
Do you hear pleading from below?
Did you listen to your heart?
Did you stop at the start?

(viii) The Continuation

It will happen again and again.
They always come after your pen.
It’s too late for me. I’m old.
Listen to me: "Never do as you’re told!"
Without a sword, without a fight,
no faith, culture, freedom, light.