I used to take back roads alone, drifting home from distant zones Weary boned, and blistered soles are tipping cobblestones and feeling old – No control… There is nothing I can hold I am cold but there is life in me, it frightens me that I do not know I’ve been told that where I go is strictly for the pheromones I’ve written poems on lips of those who risked their goals to kiss the throne And as everything explodes around me sounds ground me Down there where you found me in the basement of the foundry I need to check the time lines Identify all the sources before interpreting the signs This city is a matrix constructing identities mentally through telepathy (The chosen weaponry of the enemy) They sentenced me to Barrack Street - the old military district Enlisted men got twisted here long before I existed From the 8th floor you would have seen the orgy of debauchery stretch blocks And I’m dancing on their drunken souls every single time I walk I feel like I’m breaking down There is no more sound here in my ears I know this town and its hiding places I’ve been tracing maps for years And now I’m found where there’s no one around There’s no more sound here in my ears I walk this ground that time replaces I won’t be chased out of here This was the border, the frontier, a den of thieves who haunt here The gaunt stare of ghosts appear as the months wear on towards a year And the books have piled up along with fears of paranoid delusion I see a Black Dog on the corner, whores and soldiers, thick pollution They move in fast flashes of flickering and fluttering frames Muttering, but seemingly struggling to utter their names There are Confederates among them flying colours from Southern wars I can see them through the broken doors Sleeping on the earthen floors Sunlight seeping through their pores Swarming in the cold of this long forgotten rift to Hell That dwells on this side of the Citadel I forgot the spells. I threw them out with superstition when I was twelve I tell myself that I just fell asleep listening to Tubular Bells But I can’t seem to wake up and there’s no one to let me out I can’t even hear my own screams; no one heeds the cries for help This time I’m on my own, I suppose, and the end is getting close I have to find a way to cope here in this city full of ghosts

Life is hard, that much is easy You’ve got to survive and that’s the bottom line The mouse must chase the cheese I’m still breathing, and the sun climbs high above the trees And as long as I’m alive I’ll try to find a place to be I’ve stood on the razors edge with the corrupted children of Zoroaster Master of nothing, laughter is cynical, madness clinical, everything’s ugly Everything’s something it’s not and the rotten thoughts get me in awful spots in awkward talks I’m an empty box in a vacant lot, I want to make it stop, but the breaks are off I can see the soft surface before the words pervert and the nervousness Makes murderous, blood curdling work of the most absurd hurdles The verdict is always guilty, and it fills me with a sadness that’s unimaginable It’s an irrational impassioned act, always lashing out to chase reactions I’m only asking after the fact the cracks collapsed the tracks that we laid down The train’s late now, there’s a breakdown stranded passengers need a way out I can make out shapes but just the faintest trace, my sense of place has been debased I’ve lain to waste for days, disgraced, with the taste of your last embrace Emblazoned upon my fingertips, emitting light to fight the nightmares Arcs in shadows, but the monsters come and they’re so frightening with their dead stares That I’m broken, hopeless, lonely, wholly open, and close to ghostly moans Throwing books to smash the light bulbs out, I want to be alone I don’t know what happened There was a flash and after that I find that I’m nowhere near the accident We crashed and we were rushed to separate hospitals I have to learn to walk again and navigate the obstacles This desert bakes the flesh and arrests the respiratory system, The hills are steep, I’m out of breath, and there’s whispers written in the distance Everyone tries to talk to victims who just want someone to listen To let them know if they’re still living when some things go unforgiven But now my eyes are robbed of light, the afterlife is the darkest night It’s poison gas, my chest is tight, but I think I’m alive and I have to fight Fravashi. Bodhisattva. Through evil thoughts and words and deeds And I will bleed to breathe believing bones can break in human beings I will force myself to see in swarms of locusts, clouds of bees I’ve been stung She’s only close when I know she’s not supposed to be I am the ghost of need and all I want is just a moment To break this problem down into single-celled components I want to be alone but someday I’ll push the pain back Climb the walls of hell and find my way up to the train tracks

Her mother was a Stage Mom – Vietnam. Napalm. Stayed calm vicariously sane bomb game’s on Same song ringing in my brain Wrong Things Living shame Strong strings attached to the past bring The passionate accidental flashes of her mother in her genes Loud screams and I’m the only one who knows what that means Demons attack those who know better than to believe Nothing is free – not even trust in me – I’ve been deceived By a wisp of possibility in a hurricane of pure distain I’ve heard the strains of sirens – (I deserve the pain, you’re not insane) Everything along the fault line has suffered damage I can’t stand for this destruction but I’m too fucked up to manage Try to understand the planet is populated by people Who just do the best they can and that we construct a sense of evil To hide from confrontation, contemplation, constant hatred Monster nature, constipated consequence of consecration In defence of a creation of the state of mind heredity You’ll never get the best of me. You haven’t got the weaponry. Say Rest in Peace, play Let It Be, and turn the keys in to the keeper Let the reaper do his work – DO NOT follow the leader Let’s stop here for a breather; things are awkward in the theatre As she mockingly repeats her, Mom’s a Nazi, she’s a teacher I am neither hear me roar before a child of Plato’s cave Who behaves this way each day without the faintest sense of place… Can I erase the lines traced upon her face and taste compassion The way she talks about it and not the way she puts it into action? Can I crack that countenance with common sense and compliments? I know what the problem is: The problem lies in confidence. Mom launched her ship but stowed her garbage hidden in the hold And now the hardest hand to fold is playing for her daughter’s soul Control was always conquered by obnoxious conditionality The principality is irrelevant. …and so is originality. Sometimes the curtain rises and her eyes are shut a moment She’s memorized the lines a thousand times, the lie is important She holds it near her heart before she starts, remembers character Breaks down the barriers that embarrass her – They cherish her Knowing that the opening and the focusing of the lens could be the end Or the beginning, leaning forward as the orchestra suspends A single note that ascends into crescendos once again She explodes out of the spotlight, and then… She moves strong like Tallulah with her wine glass Time passes worn grooves along an overgrown path It’s mathematical in its simplicity and in the depths of its veracity What she does so casually maddens me the majesty just saddens me It’s too high a tower to climb and who am I? I’m just some guy, barely getting by who got a ticket inside Who once in, decides to reside beneath the stage So that every night he gets another chance to watch her slide from page to page But there’s an orchestra pit and the music stands between us And every show, I go knowing we’re toying with allegiance Symbiosis of performances I’m riding every high And feel it in my throat when she wants someone to die And when she wants someone to cry there’s not a dry eye in the hall She can make you feel small in the intensity of it all And yet I know I’m not the only ghost who watches from the wings There’s another one who stalks her and pulls upon the strings Who brings her pretty flowers and holds her heart in a decrepit grip Whispers words that slip through my love’s lips So we exist, I the exorcist and she the greatest actress The screaming frees the demons but they’re scheming to distract us House lights fade. Blackness. And the curtain falls again The crowd is moved and I am consumed, it never ends I defend her but it kills me because in getting rid of ghosts Sometimes you can’t help but hurt the host

EMC: Plant life. An industrial complex, anxiety factory with metal-mouthed tentacles that leech off of batteries Imma keep running and recoiling for hunting Ingested corrosion off moments that rusted Hungry lunging like a junkie for a fix Pipelines that mainline the dark time I lived A feeding frenzy feasting excavated weakness Plant engine screaming Love’s Dark Season Heartz: The white wash washed off in one swoop There was an iron creature that whistled as it spoke, and as it spoke the hope broke Falling faster into paintings of meaningless things I can’t even... comprehend In a sense of unbiased individuality There was a duality in the lake where you drowned me, Hermit: What beast of rendered steel slumps drunkenly from the factory Blasting toxic gas to distract us from our faculties Action is promoted through motive and we are lifeless Stricken by the viciousness of the instruments that fight us Idols form from light but we have penetrated underground Hearkening epiphanies from the peripheries of the thunder clouds Wrenched apart by the Horsemen of the Black Cloak And assembled in the plant to make your every chance your last hope. EMC: Load the carousel dead weight suffocate By-product in the lungs try to ventilate Quota time, mind fried, tired assembly line Can’t assemble lines, no Im not fine, overtime Maxed out producing the anxiousness bleeding The noxious confusion recycle my screaming Speaking smokestack limbs turn to brick Frantically planting til my engine quits Heartz: The devil destroyed my house made of straw With machines that only grow louder as i throw my hands up in valediction, This is as close as we will ever get to real metaphysics Existentialism was real until I was cast as a mute lead the beauty of your lust for my hatred drips in bowls i drink out of lick everything clean the concepts were one sided when the place was destroyed Hermit: In a broken hopeless city dream, ground zero bricks scatter Anti-matter Kali dancing on some planet shatter shit With a wolf jaw snap, rust clenches and dust commences to smother other senses Only pain is retained along the flame stained surface The house can barely hold against a mainframe with a purpose The worst is, production’s engineered to never cease Smokestacks belch with the birth of the machines

I spit these words with a venomous tongue Adrenaline lunged, killing like Attila the Hun Indiscriminate, even when I know I should run Illegitimate actions trying to block out the sun Sit back and I’m stunned – I can’t believe the things I’m doing I wanted everything but now I’ve laid it all to ruin I’m moving through stages of stress incomprehensible Living in different rooms and I’m expendable Does it matter at all that I was really trying To lay it all down on the line? She thinks I’m lying I went too far in hopes of making a home And now it’s me, myself, and my microphone But none of it means anything and machetes sting my steps A thousand blades caress my neck slice precisely with each breath I would lay down now and rest but I am cursed to wear the blood Of the woman that I loved I don’t know where this road goes, but it is long and I must roam Far from home, all alone exiled, with nothing but the styles I’ve grown Skipping stones sink down below eventually depending on the throw’s trajectory and I’m a reject who goes splash... (Just relax and take your last gasps) I would throw it all away, all of the things that I have known All the silly games I play and all the times that I’m not at home And all the books, and all the records, I would burn the studios Grow my hair and shave my face and stop wearing stupid clothes I’d never write another word or read a poem or compose These beats, I’d never speak, I’d never sing and I suppose That I would do anything, I’d never eat, I’d never learn I’d never ask another question, never sleep and never stir I’d never kiss the gift of water with these lips and cross the sands I’d never tingle as my finger traces hearts upon her hands I’d never see another sunrise or take any other pleasure from the sky If it meant that I could find a bit of that one more time I would walk away from everything with meaning for me But I shouldn’t have to if that makes me an asshole then I am sorry Life goes on. We live with it as we must Me? I love too much, but when it’s rough it’s not enough

I remember the first of May - words were flames On the worst of days jouer La Marseillaise Aujourd’hui c’est le jour que Je tombe de la tour J’ai perdu tous, mon fils et mon amour But I wanted more and there was only war Door to door, from the fourth to the psych ward on the eighth floor My reward is desolation - Signed on the dotted line: Confirmation Erase it all 'cause the vitriol Is just a bit too small to keep the nerves calm She dropped the bomb and then I packed up all the shrapnel Moved my things to the center of the capital Now everybody sees me as a threat I haven’t even caught my breath yet Boxes loaded, old roads corroded, Got a place to go, but today I’m feeling homeless Nobody is gonna give me change There’s more than the furniture to rearrange But then I’m feeling strange like maybe this is for the better Sever the strings; get on with things, whatever But even on the darkest nights when I can’t see the lights Something tells me this ain’t right I don’t believe in the afterlife I remember December because the last day of November I suspended the pretentious adventures that I’d entered We ventured back, having passed through black holes Pack the studio and bag up all the clothes Unmasked, exposed, the elastic roles Snapped like drum tracks – keep the casket closed No one needs to see the corpse, divorce is disfiguring The impact of the free fall I’ve been living in Left me destroyed and bruised - With everything to lose I’ve broken all the rules that weren’t clearly stated how can I be rehabilitated? Maybe I can’t. But I’ll try until I die again To do-do-do that dance. Eat the Leviathan This may be the Second Coming Or maybe I’m just trying to feel something Can’t tell if I’m alive or dead Because the shots to the head and the hearts bled red And all the words that were said then, fed up in the end Made me get up and pretend that she wasn’t my best friend But what drips from the lips of liars? Is Mike McGuire the mic messiah? Is it time to retire these tired poems? Let’s take it slow. I’m coming home. I remember the first of June I was singing tunes Live at the Blue Moon - IMF crew Show and prove – I’ve got to do what any man has got to do But I have no home to return to So the road feels cold old fears take hold I sold my soul for the science many years ago I’m exposed and the loads are getting heavy Running through the jungle with my life and a machete I rock steady in a Petri dish To validate the chemistry of sneakiness I was brought back to practice Black Magic Acts of witchcraft and passion in the attic Blaow!! How ya like me now? You feel the bass in your face every time I’m loud But I don’t want to be around here rattling chains I need to get out to reclaim my name Migraine intensity every time they mention me Trapped in a cage – it’s been the same since the 70s They sentenced me to Barrack, Ravine Embarrassed of the scene, duck down, get free This town’s diseased and now there’s nothing new to say I know it too well and still lose my way I’ve loved you all, but I can’t stay One last time… It’s moving day

I’ve known some weird fuckers, like knife throwers, Motorcycle gangs a wiccan priestess, friends of jesus and thieves with Irish names But that first sack of feces... he hid in a closet while we were watching that shit The whole time, from the beginning of the movie he knew the entire script Without making a sound knowing when the opportunity would arise to be the biggest scumbag asshole piece of crap of a human being alive. We didn't hear him open the closet door in the darkness of the basement and we didn't hear his clothes rustle when he raised his arm and took aim And there was just enough light from the glow of the television To see the 17" polished steel Rambo knife thrown with precision As it whistled through the air between our heads in time with Malachi’s knife It dug four inches into the cement. We screamed and ran for our life Waking all the neighbours. We were 9. But I learned If you’re not the one to get the drop first you’re going to get burned I’ll wait my turn to study survival style and execution Stall confusion, squeeze don’t pull, There’s no such thing as allocution There’s a rainstorm, plagues, and swarms Everything is breaking down, it’s what I’m paid for There’s a strange war and I was made to play with violence As rainfall blackens embers I paint shadows on my eyelids There’s a pain worn on the places of the poor From everything that’s been taken out, I’m trying to give them more It’s a strange war, but I was made to play with violence As rainfall blackens embers I paint shadows on my eyelids I studied in forests ‘round the lakes in falls and winters Master Splinter grateful Casey Jones beginner at the centre My training rainy days was lashing logs along the treetops So the water drops were stopped siphoned down into the teapot He taught me from field manuals gave me homework from the cookbook Brought me first look at the latest tools of the trade he got from paying crooks Our rivals shook the ground with anxious energy. I’m the enemy. When they sentenced me he presented me with the entry fee and dependency They resented me but the defences he ingrained inside my brain Reaped a harvest blessed with pain for those who dare to speak my name Because I play the greatest game and have ever since I lost my innocence I’m terrified, but into this – the lonely roads of inner bliss The witness lists and synthesis of flesh and bone and hollow tips The Christmas gifts and business trips, the listlessness and nervous ticks Where I exist few can fathom rational explanations Unravel your expectations I was raised to aid in domination I’ve told you I am death – I am the harbinger of doom Consume the moon to darken lonely nights and turn the sights to you I am a ruiner of lives and nothing drives my occupation Besides the palpitations that arise in times of concentration Angels of pain have been described throughout the centuries And I’ve never believed in angels, it’s not something I’d pretend to be But I’m the Alpha and the Omega in the lives of countless people I am love and I am evil – I am the one who makes us equal I didn’t choose this life it was thrust upon me and I accept it I regret it and respect it reject it and protect it Detective of your weaknesses Exploiter of your deepest flaws I bury shots beneath applause and booby-trap the path to Oz. Some days it’s odd... I feel like I can’t drop it when I’m home It follows me and the ones who took it in the heart appear when I’m alone But I’m in the shadows now and trained for unflinching efficiency Knife throwers live to be a million years old and no one’s killing me

I need someone to show me where they think I should go Cause there is no place I would rather be than in your arms at home And I feel broken, I’ve been roaming on these roads all day There is nothing left a nd so much more for me to say Things have changed and I was selfish when I refused to see All the times that I left you helpless and dared you not to bleed Now, I’ve believed in my own control but I’ve allowed myself to freeze The winter’s cold and I feel alone Will you please come back to me? I took away your breath, I know No rest for the beating heart I stole I played the best way that I know And it’s left me all alone The price I’ve paid to push this stone The paths I’ve laid back to your throne Just to ask in vain to bring me home Before everything explodes I don’t know if I should ask you just where you have been Cause it’s a question I can’t answer without smashing our dreams But I will love you ever after no matter what that means Even when there’s no more laughter and sadness cracks the seams The Age of Genocide upon us and we’ve found love and shot it down Who the hell are we to play around with something so profound? There are some things bigger than all of this I hope that you witness this too, someday But for now just listen, stripped of everything While I recite your secret names

Purple messes Picassoesque paint stretches through bright globs of red and looping pencil sketches The best is the freshest it rests near the grocery checklist The restless method in his hand is so impressive All that’s left are the mementos that dress the fridge gallery Stress is suppressed around its effervescent reality There’s a picture from the park that makes him look like Hunter Thompson And another with his mom before the monsters came and got them My boy’s rocked a beatbox since he could walk and I don’t hear him anymore (Not since the screaming stopped) I’m disappearing through the door I’m forming holodecks of regret and living through it The smell of the textured tempera is vital fluid It oozes through my senses fights off the darkest thoughts I miss hearing him learn how to talk And so I sit like a tourist and pretend I see him creating But he ain’t…. all I’ve got left is the paint. Torn sheets caked in grease its pre-geometry increases In every piece and I am speechless Deciphering signals in the signature style Tradition is wild and I’m living in them just for a while I’m in a state of denial – the fine line minds find To rhyme a bit of reason Believe it, these are treasonous times I’ve been defeated by surprise and rise up the most high Ultra violet black light – and I will try to survive But there’s nothing here to work with I can’t even figure out why things ever seemed so perfect I’m on a desert island but forgot to pack the discs I exist in the midst of these wax and marker glyphs I’ll rip them down and lash together a raft Piece together a better map Try to find my way back To the shores so sore that they don’t exist any more While I’m sitting on the floor Wishing that I could see him more

My name is Michael Douglas McGuire the bird of fire, the liar, the Sire Mired in funeral pyres the choir the quiet the riot in the inner mind’s wires Iron Alliances – I am eye of the tiger the line where violence lives A scientist of silences been rhyming since 96 - I’m an arsonist Burning myself is all part of it Third degree survivor this is dire, inspired but tired Im trying, but I left it behind when I was dying Vanessa Ann Marie Furlong Miss Sagittarian arrogant and headstrong Miss if there's a way there's a will go wrong I found redemption in the pills popped and in hiphop and song Forgiven and given a mic so Im livin and driven in spite of the hidden forbidden misfittin and slittin that I fight Cause this life It dragged me down its path kickin and screamin so I write My name is Eric Vincent McIntyre Been sending smoke signals as my ashtray piles Something cracked now I can't go outside without my headphones of refuge for my thoughts to exercise Track meet, move feet, eternal sunshine beats On a spot, less mind, more heart buried deep That thing we have is dead and it wont rest in peace Now coffins rest between my eye lids when I try to go to sleep Heartz Aoi Deadwood Useless unmotivated broke, undeserving of kudos Manic depressive, suicidal failure, unseeing Leave me to drown here Moves only in dead backwards steps Each breath only to strangle my own neck, Then cut the rope before I cross over I just cant win... Thank you Christopher Thomas Rice -- that's what they named me And I've been playing nice too long for you to save me We wanna say they said; So I'm here breaking it down with like nun-chucks upside the head guess again, there there... Doubting Thomas with a promise breaking habit-to-tendency Misanthropic dependency You talkin' therapy? I got six bitches sharing me Behind closed doors and guarantees and I ain't made a peep My name is Michael Gray Kimber I’ve whined long enough so fuck it This is group therapy, what’d ya call it When co-dependants see life and dodge it Group Therapy - We are all fucked up Wow I got it. Clarity. Losers at getting rich Masters of speaking, hoping to be living it Giants and little kids Possibilities limitless, but the world shit on us I can’t make a crown out of all the feces - I need people to need me So promise you’ll meet me where I’ll be In constant company My home, The Asylum. With my best friends in group therapy World full of ripples Scary for me to walk in my own two shoes without the crutches that carry this cripple Live a little.

I stand accused of singing the blues so truthfully That I destroyed the way it used to be I poisoned the solutions These chains are the same that have shackled countless millions But supervillains can’t be contained in prison buildings I haven’t killed anyone In fact, I’ve done the opposite Be responsible for yourself, don’t act like it’s the apocalypse Reacting to hostile acts with the logic of a hostage I have a right to live my life – it’s all I’ve ever wanted But I’m haunted in this county by charges of corruption And ghosts from the asylum whose tactics are disgusting I rap over repercussions and ethical baselines While they give chase and whisper names through grapevines I roam free, but I don’t walk among the living Cause living means you have to allow yourself to be forgiven If that’s the difference, mine’s a liminal existence Half in, half out – not acquitted or convicted. Mind shattered dreams scatter on the edge of disaster The superficial matters 'cause mad hatters have the last word As that feeling starts to rise in the chest it’s best to press on Walk through the stress with a bulletproof vest on I used to know where the crows go when the snow begins to blow But the roads all froze below the streetlamp glow Dogs fight over bones and people lose their homes I am not the problem – it’s just the way that it goes The way I play it depends upon the way it’s composed I’m trying to stay warm - love’s dark season is cold Don’t believe what you’re told no matter how loud they moan No throne can impose a harsher sentence than my own I am the defence, the prosecution, and the judge Transcriber of things that should not be spoken of Am I guilty? Sure, but then what the hell is innocence? Name a single citizen whose membership’s free of blemishes Ever since I’ve done those things I’ve been tormented And every single day it’s a struggle not to end it Fly away to Uruguay sneak across the border To Bela Horizonte Beyond the reach of bench orders But tracks and applejacks are just two reasons that I’m fighting Think what you like but I love this broken life "I know what I must do, cause I won’t let them do this to me" was spoken by Bruce Li when he got bumrushed in a movie The Man and the Myth cannot coexist in this reality Say what you want about me, I’m a man who sleeps soundly I do feel like I’m broken down and nervous But I still have to pick myself up and work around the verdict Respect to all of those who’d testify on my behalf It’s because of you I’ve made it back when I slipped through the cracks I learn things cause every time I burn things a bird sings And I can steal the melody when my own aren’t working

It’s been a long road, my heart has grown warn and cold Take me to a peaceful place where I can make my own way Every spring for a century the sun has risen over this orchard Affording the most glorious reward, but I am tortured A rabbit’s in the cabbage again, Ma, he’s at it again Too many seasons have been spent, it’s never ending These traps are getting rusty - bones creaking Futility is killing me - I don’t even have a reason I’m going on foot standing on solid ground again My fading glow will soon be reignited It’s a long war that outlasted my father’s father This farm will fade into the past without my son and daughter The water in the well is drying up and they keep coming Every year no matter what – they’re on to something I’ve tried to live a simple life, but I’ve made it problematic Is it really so tragic to have a rabbit in the cabbage? Simplicity is becoming of me I’ve seen the way that things should be Not interested in the guidelines, I follow no ones lead and maybe its because I need to be the better version of me There’s a brand new world that awaits me once I finally release All of the things that have restrained me It’s my turn to run free You know what, Ma? I’ve grown tired of the fight I’ve been battling the rabbits - it’s drained away my life I need to learn to love again, and to stop wasting all my energy Trying to defeat an enemy who should really be a friend to me It’s time for me to say goodbye, I don’t need these clothes I’ll be running with the rabbits when the garden starts to grow You can find me with the rabbits when the garden starts to grow