http://98.203.165.145:8000/listen.m3u

he had his set of ideals and aspirations just like any other would.
Lincoln that is. Ideas set on a much brighter horizon than blood stained clouds of a war tore adolescent country. Judgement and clouded closed minds of future thinkers can only twist the vine so far in the name of their good but yet still very ill intentions.

Fear the most valuable tool in the weak spirited ones arsenal. History bleeds for the injustices bestowed in her ugly name. Times for the forgotten are in no need of revenge, that only puts chaos back in bed and at the side of the order and laws of nature which dawns the age of hope and prosperity.

Back to the memory of a man who at his time did his best to give up a life he maybe cherished for the start of an unraveling of liberties robes for all to hold onto. A battle which still to this day wages on an on due the short comings of humanity and it's lust for race to the pinnacle of life's triangle.


~<{=+=}>~

Mid summers rabble

Words are only worth a bounty
Behind the cloth and velvet frank waits
The truth to be known is worthless in their eyes.

Like a spike inside the tongues of
a salvo you hide. Hide from Ego that is killing all that is left.

Hunting and gathering will gain nigh,
In the hindsight spilled out from the elders mouth.
Frank waited for an eternity which was really only 5 measly minutes.

Spoiled eggs and dreams
are all that is left when everything is all said and done. Still said ego grows.




~<{=+=}>~

Location:4th Ave S,Federal Way,United States

a brave new world, one that lacks any sense of validation or street cred.. Like a baboon complaining amongst the heard of selfless abusers of the king's engrish. Keep your weapons clean and tongues sharp for one will never know when they'll be called upon to fight their founders wars.. Wars over the best seat in the lunch room. The coward drinks his milk under the careful watch of a rivals jealous fits of rage, rich mans problems in a poor world. Painting pictures is a petty fools game trying to escape a literal publishing of random thoughts stitched together in attempt to poke the bear.


~<{=+=}>~

Let the slumber sleep until..

Sitting in front of another zombie, Frank wondered helpless and afraid of the days ahead what lame uneventful task has he became involved with. The stench of lazy flesh pealing from the dead leather object of comfort which in time has became a replacement for the womb we so once cherished over all. Simple liberties are given up with each passing moment, while Jane and her sleepy complacent lover let it all transpire for the whiff and idea of cheese burger which's hormone and mind controlled tainted meat sits on the counter blossoming into a theory of freedom from it's rancid grip over their worker bee slash free radical progressive Ikea furnished lives.

~<{=+=}>~

Location:S 230th St,Des Moines,United States

into the night, we are.

the ship is sinking, and for the lack of better words..
it would be safe to say we were never looking for love.
on the shoreline the two of us sat watching it unfold like
a paper game to be played by a couple of middle school love-byrds.

She told a tale of fairy-tale mystery, while he sold a
dream filled with hope and despair, only for a moving picture show
of what is.. to at a later said date to reveal this was always bullshit.

History tells us that being years ahead will only get you so far.

.......and that you can only hide behind these words for so long,
before any lack of proper grammar and courage comes around to
fight back.

so to set sail unto the blackened seas without a plotted chart,
would leave us with a empty heart again.

I alone am not enough, and you in the hands of those who do not care are never
a resolve. Such ah untimely distance is the reasonably answer for those
which seek none.

Funny how the words of a simple term care strike like the lighting that lets the
fire burn, while the edge is a comfort you seek... and years ago to the day he was
already there and like the miles between they were only inches on the map.

If only in tomorrow.

Hate to find out after living a life with no regrets, that there is.

Only to find I was a fool for my own demise.

You were there, there the last time I was on a knee crying out for mercy, oh mercy me.

Yes I was a fool for the games of the weak hearted.

One can only wish that under the stars of tonite, you'll be sleeping in the arms that which are stronger than my own.

With lost love's remorse, they weep for the empty glass.. For the empty leap's of faith.

And I find funny these can't be my words, cause I'd never have the nerve to speak 'em.