angry

Lost

Folder: 
2005

Like an angry child,

I vie for attention

In a world of apathy.

Oh wait, did I mention,

That I need my freedom,

But I don’t know

To contain myself,

Not properly. Wow!

I’m a fucking nut,

In a world of basket cases.

We all know their names,

But can’t see their faces.

Can someone help me

Find who I am,

Or am I to be angry forever?

A lost child. Damn!

 

~Chrystal

Written on

October 12, 2005

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This one was about me being angry with myself. The feeling of being lost.

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Anger

Folder: 
2003

Teardrops falling in my head

My heart is heavy as lead

Emotions worn on my sleeve

And the world is my pet peeve

 

Emotions filling my entire soul

My temper rages out of control

Make it stop, make it quit

Or I fear my head will split

 

I try to make you understand

The way it is in my own land

The mountains and valleys of my mind

The highs and lows you shall find

 

Yet our thoughts are ever so different

Thus fighting is how out time is spent

My love for you is ever true

I’m just sick of arguing with you

 

~Chrystal

Written on

June 20, 2003

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I dont know who this was written to. Yet I know its true with anyone you are fighting with.

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Pissed Off

Is anyone else pissed off?

I’m fucking enraged! Complacency will be the leading cause of the death of our society our world.

People so fucking caught up on religion and political philosophies that have yet to prove that they even work. Pure stupidity. Technology has become the opiate of the masses.

There is a constant buzz droning: of gossip, bull shit, whining about temperature of your venti latte mocha with soy. White upper middle class adults from suburbia complain about how they never felt loved, they were latch key children, the pressure to perform- as they swipe the plastic god to buy that so needed pair of retro style Nikes for 239.99 that were made buy children in sweat shops the modern day slaves of your consumerist money hungry disease. Poor you little white boy drink that latte hope it burns out your tongue.

Fuck you- you urban hipsters! Being green because its trendy. Happy to replace your light bulbs with energy efficient ones because every little bit counts right! Fuck you! Fuck your skinny jeans and mullets. Your reusable bags and recycled catch phrases. You talk about being so different as you all look like clones. You vote which ever way is popular post stupid staged pictures on facebook, myspace, write dumb ass shit on twitter. No one cares you will never be remembered. Your words will die long before you do of cancer from all the chemicals you put in your body through food, hair dye, cigarettes, and designer drugs to match your designer jeans. You have 513 friends on lamebook but only family will attend your funeral.

I’m tired of seeing people I befriended as a child, people that were bullied so much I was teased for being their friend, become theses self absorbed ass holes. I don’t want to look at 234 pictures of your face, your meaningless art, your vapid soulless eyes peaking out from your overly coated in mascara eyelashes. You have morphed into the people you hated must feel nice to finally be part of the in crowd now that your not awkward and geeky… instead just the right underweight size and nerdy since “geekery” is the new “stuck up preppy bitch”

Screw you, masses of conforming sterilized shrunk wrapped sheep. Buy BUY BUY. Just cause its organic doesn’t mean your not still feeding the cooperate machine of greed- organic is pulled out of the ground, not in a plastic wrapper homogenized pasteurized irradiated dyed for your pleasure.

Complain when you see something on the news yet you never do anything other than sit on your rapidly expanding ass munching on Doritos wondering why this world is so shitty as you channel surf because the images of bloody children’s bodies in Darfur starts to make you uncomfortable. But what can I do…. So you go on your happy little day as kids the age of yours are sold into brothels so your podiatrist can get some young pussy while in Indonesia.

You sit back and let the world tell you what to think, what to wear, where to go, what to drive, what to eat… just pick your favorite society engineered sub-culture and go shopping. Feel goth? Go to your local mall, shop at Hot Topic, go to the mall piercing shop and get you nose pierced, stop at Barnes and Noble buy some journals with “dark edgy art” on them and some Poe or Plath while you are at it… pick any sub-culture and there are stores you can go to so you can buy shit you don’t need to assimilate into your chosen subculture so you can be a pretty and unique snow flake while fitting in at the same time. Buy some more shit the government promises that it will fill that hole in your heart.

Go on ahead and go to your local gay bar dressed all slutty dance with the gay boys flirt with dykes as “I kissed a girl” is blasted by the DJ playing nothing but commercial watered down sell out shitty music. Say your all for gay right yet when that baby butch dyke in a gap polo tries to kiss you on the dance floor exclaim “I’m not a fucking lesbian!” and stomp out in your Jimmy Choo’s as you go to the breeder bar next door.

Or you new age fluffy bunny fuckers gaze into your crystals to bring world peace, vote for gun control, munch on micro greens, wear gauzey linen skirts, and drive your SUV to your next drum circle. Say you only practice white magic- and slap the dark goddess in the face. Wait till they come for you your chakra wand wont fight them off, too bad your votes outlawed private gun ownership.

I could rant about all the conservative right wingers they are obviously off their rockers- they don’t piss me off as much as the people who should care, who do know better… the liberal machine the sheeps in fascists clothing- the democrats in this nation are just different puppets with the same master- money.

Money that has no real value other than what we believe it does. There is no gold standard nothing to back up that buck- just your faith that the paper in your hand is worth a dollar of goods or services.

Capitalism is a disease of epic proportions.

Why is the word epic the new catch phrase that makes you some cool edgy hipster? Look up epic in the dictionary you illiterate simpletons. I hate to inform you but your night was not “epic”. You bar hopped got drunk and slept with some girl/guy and you can’t remember their name… that’s a confirmed case of Chlamydia next week and skanky not epic.

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tags:

DENUNCIATION.

DENUNCIATION.   

 

 

   Would you have preferred listen to the whisper?

 Of the cracking dried rose under your feet?

Or the silence of the deads?

Would you prefer looking at the smile of a child?

Or the remains of an infant in S-24?

 

Turn your head the other way,

It is easier, ignorance is bliss!

But don’t complaint,

Their skulls spoke louder,

Then any living proses.

 

       COPYRIGHT@H.NAUDET.2010.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

those few lines spoke louder then the anger i could scream at .