Psycho- Confessions

The Human Experience

Literary Passages

'The Human Experience'

“Harboring too much unneeded stress,
Where sins are forgiven and secrets confessed
hidden messages found within this text
clouds cover the sky, the calm before the storm
Where mothers and fathers die, children will be born
flowers eventually wilt and trees hibernate
our actions define our vary fate.”

Actions speak louder than any words.

It doesn't seem like much has changed over the years. More people deemed as criminals as the clock continues to tick away at the seconds, people forgetting that this life is a treasure. A gem to be protected. Often the distractions around us sweep us up into a storm of confusion. Monetary gain and personal profit have become the center of man's desire. Personal greed for one's justification is clearly a bad president and an even worse mentality for our children to witness, or worse to become involved with. Personal gain for ones own family however changes that tide, a thin line as who does not want the best for their family and loved ones?

I can only speak on behalf of myself when I say that for being a nation comprised of a majority of Christians many have forgotten the true meaning and purpose of the gospels. Not religious myself but openly spiritual I can say with utmost certainty whether the god of the bible is real or not, the message found within those scriptures cut at the very core of our humanity.
There is a question I would like to pose to those faithful and believers, if we are all brothers and sisters on this tiny blue planet we call home, earth, and mother, such an honorable title we bestow to a place that provides to us everything we need to survive. Why is it that we continue to kill our brothers, allow our children in third world countries and here at home to starve while our restaurants toss out half ate meals into a back ally dumpster, only to fill another landfill, another wound within our planet's crust.

You listen to the same liars and manipulators who tell you there is simply not enough room or not enough resources to help our own, let alone help another. Millions are homeless throughout the world. We all cry, we all bleed and suffer and ultimately we will all perish. We are in fact the same to the extent that our diversity comes from our own personal beliefs. What we feel is right and what is also wrong. You can argue and debate your ideologies until you are blue in the face and still your opposition will stand firm in their own faith. You are then left with but two options, either fight or concede to the fact their mind has made a choice, closed and ended there. Fighting usually only solidifies and strengthens one's view on the subject at hand.

Is it possible to talk down a trigger happy gunman? Peace is easy to say, the word can roll from your tongue like a childhood memory of a Utopian society. Yet the act of peace becomes a tug a war game of who gives in the most, to allow the violence to stop. What if you had to give up nothing more than your own pride to accomplish the dream of a peaceful society? What if all you had to do was show one single act of kindness to your fellow man? It was once said that the act of giving returns more than that of receiving. This dream may seem impossible, yet when you give it some thought, this dream becomes more practical than the constant senseless killings of our own brothers and sisters, our mothers and fathers. The road down this dream would take no where near as long to achieve then our own regression and depression has lasted.

“Leave me to my own, as I sit upon this lonely throne.
A king of an empty empire, who set his castle on fire
A lord of fools, who plays the jester.
Where bitterness resides and only starts to fester.
This has become my solitude,
from an endless war it's my only refuge.
Trapped, with no hope of any rescue.”

“When Insanity beckons, how will you answer the call.
On top of a ledge will you jump or fall?
Killed everything you tried to force,
Ignorance never changes it's course
A vampyre hiding within the sheep's skin.
When there is no faith it is always easy to give in
Leave me to my own, Leaving me to be alone
and this has become my solitude.”

To question blindly without following.

Have we forgotten how to take care of our own? So attached to the umbilical cord that has become our very complacency. Are we so quick to jump or grovel for the scraps left on the table? Already hand picked by pockets of the greedy. Waiting in a breadline desperately wanting to hear news of blue skies ahead, yet we continue to allow others to speak on the behalf of others. The same voice which later becomes slurred as the cocktail of lies flush through their veins. Even when they face the angry mob, there sins are resolved behind closed doors and classified briefings.

No man, woman, or child can speak on my behalf, to assume such notion implies to me that I am property for such dealings and actions. I may have unknowingly been born a slave into a broken system, yet as an adult I redeem my sovereignty, my rights and my freedoms and when I look around I am disgusted and saddened at what we have all lost. The senseless deaths, and the tormenting pain, as the world cries out in its own suffering. The sins of greed and lust has tapped our planet to the bone, as ignorance continues to lead the charge in this the so called “Age of Science”. If this new dawn truly is the age of awakening, our evolution of knowledge and consciousness, Why does people still cling onto old dogmas. Dogmas in which has fallen in the past, like the Greeks and Romans.
When science speaks, we chose not to listen, almost paranoid that the whole status quo will change. Terrified of the unknown, yet to proud and stubborn to see, even now their very way of life hangs in the balance. No it is not Armageddon, It is reality and it is your very life.

One can easily and rightfully debate a religion, but to contest their own divinity is to doubt your own existence. For what ever that spark of life that is within us all is known as, it gives to us a very important and often neglected gift. It was once said that when a man faces his own mortality it is then that he sees god. With so many different deities proclaimed how do we understand which is real and which has been a fabricated myth? Faith for centuries has taught you to believe in something unproven. Trust in an illusion even if the magic presented is more than just smoke and mirrors. The word faith now just conjures up untouchable dreams, forgotten is the word faith used for any practical matters. We all have relied too much on “out” side forces, 'A god watching over us'. We constantly view the world in a third person, picking from it like an apple from a tree, the memories in which to cherish or those that horrify us. Forgetting once again the essence of our breath. The meaning of life. The mystery in which all has sought after, but only few have conquered.

“Are you dancing with the stars in the night's sky?
Playing with the cosmos in your hand while you lie
Can you see the future and what it will bring?
Can you hear the rain in the middle of spring?
Or ever danced with the mystics or sages?
Glanced upon one of the countless empty faces?
A world alone, Trapped out in space
a dot on a much larger canvas,
A race performing suicide if we persist

Have you sang with the god's new or old?
Riding the tide, are your strings being pulled?
Do you fear no one more than yourself?
For your mind's a treasure chest of great wealth
Have you found the depths of your emotions,
and the limits of your obsessions?
Reaching your dreams, when you first have nothing.

Are you dancing with the stars against the horizon?
While meditating within the center of the sun?
Have you ever traveled through a black hole,
or peered deep into the soul?
Can you smile as you traverse the endless skies?
Wandering the void as your body dies
Can you hear all the beating hearts?
As you dance among the stars?”

The Human Experience

The meaning of Life, the question is what is your purpose for living? This single question has haunted mankind since the birth of religion, science, and even human evolution of our consciousness. Through the years I have came to the conclusion that this reason for our existence was different for everyone, yet even now I've come to doubt my own answer, through theories of science. My mind and my eyes have expanded on what I once thought to be solid. Even my often morbid obsession with the dead, or rather the passing has all but pushed me down a rather one lane train of thought on this the mother of all questions. I have learned to be open minded and tolerate the insane and sane alike.

My mind has lead me through dungeons and even gardens. As if like a child who finds the key to a locked room, I eagerly turn the latch. Only this time I will not see what is on the other side of this door until I too pass, and die.
The Human experience is more than a word, like the meaning of life it's even more than an expression. It is at the core of our very existence, to simplify how complex this experience is, It is love, it is joy, happiness, excitement. It is the anger, and the rage. The often hidden lustful and even sinful thoughts we posses deep within our subconscious mind. Quiet simply put it is the passion or even the unforgivable acts of cruelty itself.
For when even a blind man opens his eyes he feels the wind. Our emotions, thoughts and being are what makes up the complexity of the human experience. To live and to feel. To act and to think, so once again the question at hand. What is the meaning of life? The short answer is the life we live. To experience a miracle every second of the day whether that is a bad or even a wonderful moment, because that moment existed and nothing can change it now.

In a world of opposites, the yin and yang, love and hate, black and white, even life and death.
Where death becomes the opposite of your existence, your human experience and beyond that door only those who have gone before us truly know this opposite. Science has shown that through our very skin, is energy itself, to rationalize the meaning of death, only serves comfort to ourselves and does no justice to the dead. To believe and carry faith for our brothers and sisters taps into the once again ever complicated essence of the human experience. Our emotions, thoughts, and even our actions become the corner stone of our individual, biconnected personality. As that personality then carries the very meaning of our lives.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is actually not a new piece, Its already been published on another site I use to hold my writtings and is in my book "Psycho- Confessions" I just figured it would be a nice addition to my library here at postpoems. Hope you enjoy it!

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Psycho- Confessions "A Psychological Confession"

Psycho- Confessions: A Psychological Confession
Authored by Matthew Wayne

List Price: $10.00 (!!!SALE!!!)
6" x 9" (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
250 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1466426245 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1466426241
BISAC: Psychology / Emotions

Psycho- Confessions;
My Anthology of poems, literature, tangents and journal entries going as far back as 10+ years. Most of what is found here can be found on my webpage, (

CreateSpace eStore:


I believe in the conscious attempt at better understanding who we are, that at the very core of every atom there is energy, there is empty space, there is potential for limitless possibilities, and that is where miracles are born.

“Gaze upon the fire of a star, to become lost within it's halo. To know heaven, to see the gamma ray and to feel the vibrational energy as it courses around us, through us. To experience love in a world of brutality where the earth becomes the devil's playground through the minds and hearts of man”


'Crimson Sunset' – Unknown written date.
“I feel compelled to write, so I write. It's ironic seeings how writing even if it's just notes, or completed sonnets they are my only true form of expression, I write what I see and what I feel. Many great authors and poets have done the same. I often write before I think, sometimes I get lost to my emotions so deep in thought I don't know what I have wrote until I look it over. Awhile back ago I decided to keep a journal. Now looking back on it, over the hastily scribbled words I see the emotions of a madman, a hopeless romantic, a lost dreamer and even an angry citizen. I ranted on and on about the most trivial stuff, yet at that moment in my life they were the highest of my priorities. I cannot help but pity my own past, and I am not fond of that, for to feel pity on another is to stab the already rusted knife that much deeper into the fool's chest. An added insult which never finds home in any situation. I could never figure out or understand why I felt like my writing could infest a person's mind. Like a plague it opens a gateway to an infectious cancer. Manipulating the readers mind, the harvester to a black death. Where I become my own demon.
It may sound selfish however, I must state that I write for myself alone, not for the readers who happens across this passage. No I would encourage them to write, and write for themselves never for another's pleasure. I hold no regrets in the way I live my life for that matter, and will apologize to no one for breathing the air.”

“Blood flows like oil,
Killing our mother, polluting our soil
Insanity runs wild, with stupidity on the rise
our addiction to violence will be our demise.
War, famine, and greed
losing our humanity like a disease
Death becomes second nature,
determined to bring forth our rapture
a myth we are trying to usher”

I - Overture

II – My Seventh Level

III – Confessions of a Madman
(journal Entries)

IV – A Notion of Thoughts
(Editorials – Commentaries)

V – Random Madness

VI – A Pathological Muse
(Sonnets - Poetry)

VII – Serenity

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is just a tease to try and tempt you into getting the book which is my best work in my opinion. I have lowered the price as far as I can without taking a hit to my own pocket. I am not looking to make money off this book, as it's a collection of basicly my very soul. I have time to make money later, and can ;) but if you can afford it I would recommend you grab a copy and enjoy....

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Ash to Ash

Volume Two

“Ash to Ash”

I will crawl for every inch,
Dig till I reach blood and bone
I might be broke, but my spirit is rich
for I know; soon I will be home
In this universe nothing is ever wasted
Energy flows, as stars implode
a multidimensional reality so multifaceted
where our creator lies within a code.

Between the violet rays, and the purple haze;
far past the horizon, where the sun has gone
buried within our mind, is the knowledge we shall find
we are one of many, far to complex to see

A god within you, a god within I
and all becomes clear when we die
a complex pattern to this always strange life.

This life is just a journey, a path we travel
an experience for our consciousness, for our soul
within a reality that is so beautiful

Everything is as we perceive it to be
a world defined by all that we see
all created within the ashes of our humanity.

“Sooner or later we all become astrange
to our own humanity”

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Found this poem of mine tucked away on another one of my poetry sites must have forgot to add it here ah well, here it is :)

Our Wasteland

“Our Wasteland”

'Genesis Set'

In the wasteland that was our glory,
Shall be handed down a tragic story.
Death will not ride the horse of murder
there will be no where to hide, no safe quarter.
When you walk that path, cross that border
will you proudly stand before that iron gate
hang before the jury, while charming the snake

Zombies, all marching to the same tune
sleep walking without so much as a clue.
There was once a time, I almost gave up altogether
tormented by the nightmare of it never getting better

There rests a vice within my head
there was a reason I had wished to be dead
for in this life, somethings are better left unsaid
because the mistress of life, plays for regrets.
If there is a lesson to be had in any of this,
it is that life's simple distractions make it an easy miss.
Where confusion shadows my every step
I still find my life in another's dept.

In the wasteland of destitute
I am reminded of this same prelude
trying hard to forget, the constant regret.

Every face melts into two,
strangers in the wind pass by without a clue.
Their eyes staring through you
I close myself off, I find an escape
away from the pain, before I break.
The screams inside my head will go silent
once the world learns the violence.

I will take that long walk to the chair,
I will take my last rights, hear my final prayer.
Once you flip the switch, my mind will start to twitch
to execute the heart, now that becomes an art.

Always crying about how life is just not fair,
When we chose to ignore the obvious standing there
right before our eyes, and how we perceive all the lies.
The law of attraction, and the language of subtraction
the way of the universe, and how it could always be worse.

“So many faces all staring back at me,
who are blind yet still think they can see”

“I will share with you a secret, This world is cruel and often a hypocrite
but as I walk this tight rope, I hold onto a thread of hope
that in a universe built on opposites, and very few compromises.
I will find my garden of eden, within those green fields
cast my eyes onto my angel, my vixen.”

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Everyone will have regrets in their life...

**Updated Formating from Psycho- Confessions**

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The Man Of Sorrow

“The Man of Sorrow”

'Genesis Set'

I am far from perfect, and I bare many sins
many nights I would struggle to just not give in
It was just the simple thought of you,
that gave me the strength to make it through
I would travel through hell just to glance upon an angel
walk on fire, and become a historic fable
“The man of sorrow who lost his way”
became the hero and won the day.

“Watched as the icon fell,
during that solemn hour breathing felt like hell
helpless to stop the events in motion, a tidal wave of raw emotion.
Reaching out for an unfamiliar hand,
offering hope to all those who can still stand.
Grieving over all the loss, giving to those who have lost”

Perfect is the soul, for in it's design there is no wrong.
Perfect is the beauty in the melody of this song.
I had failed to look in between the lines,
missed the hidden meanings behind the word 'fine'
and once again my heart had to pay
and once again the man of sorrow had lost his way.

Broken, and bruised stands a hero of sacrifice
Suffering ensues should I be left to my own device
a penitence for not following my own advice.
Maybe I need to travel further down the road
where dreams become a reality I can truly hold.

I have been betrayed by my own thoughts
to the point, parts of my soul now rots
I've fallen form my feet, and forced to take a peek
deep into the tempest, months of unrest
where solitude had became my cage,
locking the best parts of myself away
cherishing the already faded memories.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Formatting updating from "Psycho- Confessions"

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Missing You

Volume Two

Book: Psycho- Confessions
By: Matthew Wayne

“Missing You”

No angel in my darkest hour,
A whisper in the night
a nightmare burned in my sight
what was it you said

"I didn't want to hurt you"

but my heart still bled
You can't possibly understand
I'm missing you already

"There's a stranger in my bed
no, it's all just in my head
I'm alone wishing I was dead
it's another sleepless night
where nothing ever seems to go right"

I've been alone all my life
it's feeling the scrape of a knife
against your skin
the pain starts again
A wish that has never came true
a dream meant for two
can you possibly understand
I'm missing you already

"There's a stranger in my bed
no, it's all just in my head
I'm alone wishing I was dead
it's another sleepless night
where nothing ever seems to go right"

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This Time

Volume Two

Book: Psycho- Confessions
By: Matthew Wayne

“This Time”

This time, I'm going to walk
tired of this fight
screaming that it's over
no where to run for cover
drowning your sorrows in a bottle of rum
hoping it will make you numb
no faith but wishing for some
to make you stronger, This time

"This Time, my hearts not worth giving
It's not worth grieving
This Time, It's not even worth believing"

Tired of the same old lie
"I'll love you until I die"
It never works out that way
forever is not an eternity
that's what separates you from me
all it takes is just one fight
to end something that was so right

"This Time, My hearts not worth giving
It's not worth grieving
This Time, It's not even worth believing"

I'll make the change, this time
because I'm tired of the same old line
it never works out that way
and it's always my heart that pays
So not this time.

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Head Trip

Volume Two

Book: Psycho- Confession
By: Matthew Wayne

“Head Trip”

You set me up, just to fall
but even on my knees I'll crawl
Just to see; you begging me please
because your just a fucking tease
you made a mockery of me

"It's called a Head Trip
a mind game
a fucking decoy
played like a toy"

You never loved me
You loved the idea of me
go ahead and play your hand
I'm already damned
I have nothing left to lose
it will be just another bruise
So easy to confuse
To easy to use
You haven't suffered enough

"It's called a Head Trip
a mind game
a fucking decoy
played like a toy"

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The Tears of a Memory

Volume Two

Book: Psycho- Confessions
By: Matthew Wayne

“The Tears of a Memory”

I remember it all like it was just yesterday
it's like living a dream, you would say
I never realized how easy it could be taken away
now I'm stuck with the tears of a memory

My heart bleeds for your touch
I need it so very much
the way your body moved with grace
wishing for your embrace.
Death was there to claim
the doctors whispered your name
They said you went with god
I wished they had been wrong
for in my life is where you belong
not in the tears of a memory

I can still see the words escape your lips
still see the way you move your hips
I remember it all like it was just yesterday
and how painfully it was stripped away
you were right, it was like living a dream
for your beauty is all that I've ever seen

“Now its trapped within the tears of a memory”

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