CONTAGION PUBLISHING

A beautiful poem

I read a beautiful poem with a secret message from afar,
Of needles and a damage done
With a hint of broken words with a pain to reach so far.
In an open grave, covered only by the gentle loud of whispers,
Screaming, silent poems cried from a distant, running slave
With puncture wounds and oozing, bleeding blisters
From old decaying highs as he reaches in and out to find his very name.

He ponders and he wallows in the beauty of his murky past
To think of glimpsing moments when his friendships might just last.
He reads a poem from other writings
Forgetting his role with a magik quill with all the demons fighting
In the absence of his own forgotten will to connect his hurting soul.

Friendship never really runs away. It never really fades away.
It’s only blocked by the solid white of stone within the mental frame of all escape today.
He utters a word of hurt and dirt assuming a power to alter the very nature of our way,
A twisted ego with no control over a friendship we so freely give to him today.

With the silky smooth of all denial,
With a blindness to all his judgment,
He only sees his wrongs and bads and puts himself on trial.
If only to remember the greatest gift to give away,
An inner truth from deep inside
To show the darks and bads to each and all,
To fight the demons that make us hide,
To feel and scream a pain so sad.

It is the pain of real.
No more blocks and covers and pretending.
No fakes, no masks, no mending,
Just the non-ending task to keep the needle out
To live in a time to fucking shout!
Holy fuck, it’s real! Holy fuck, I feel!
The good will feel so bad! Wallow in your sad.
Be real! Shout out the way you fucking feel!
No one ran away, “a little run for cover maybe”
As you began to show the truest beauty of the cover of your naked way.

We, the group of twelve, are the jury in the end.
The verdict is “not fucking guilty!”
The verdict is we still remain your friends.

bilbo

A creepy night

The night creeps in upon an ego-feeding day
Cloaking all the piss and shit of junkies as they play
Giving the pleasing feel that everything‘s okay,
Keeping life unreal and any clean of thoughts away.

A meeting of the wise has gathered at the shack.
“The wise and otherwise,”
A plan for days to reap and feed the anguish coming back!
With giggled talk of rotten pussy and self centered, mental highs,
The underworld has risen with pain and aches and lies
Far above the ground displaying all the tormented, inner prisons
Forever to be found in tortured, twisted highs!

With big and toughened, tunneled sight
The cars pull in and scrape and scratch the lawn
They spew their greed and insane opinions throughout the night
Until the frightened dawn.
They sit controlled as their smoke fills up the choking room.
With pipes of rubber and twisted hose they contemplate the innocence
Of their festering denial and their blood soaked, constant doom.

One takes the place where three should be,
The coolest of the bunch with the smooth, clammy shavings
Of a pumpkin head in an apple tree,
As if he really needs another fucking lunch!
His eyes are slits, natures way for ducking shit,
With a belly so big you could live in it!
He spews his scams through the innocence of all “his rest of it.”

All the little “puppy dogs” just sit and wag their tails
Becoming so obedient to never want to fail.
Sit. Shake a paw. Say please. Roll over
With a nervous hope to not play dead,
Listening to tales of alter egos
While avoiding bullets in their heads!

A creepy night for all, a normal way to spend some time,
A little blow, a magik heal for time,
A nickel, if they’ll only take my call,
I need to calm my nervous way.
I’ll fuck and suck for maybe just a dime,
That’s how the game is played!

bildo

A flower in the dirt
(angels with dirty faces)

A seed was blown around the world,
A little water here and there.
But the seed, it never grew
Until it landed in the dirt
With neither thought nor care.

It was full of darkness.
It was full of endless fear
Which lasted for just a day
Or was it just a year?

A craving made the tiny seed reach out and up
And past its’ manik mountainside of fear
To root and grow
And be the beauty of its’ deep inside,
What it always was
And what earth mother always knew was there,
. . . . . . . The perfect imperfection
Of the perfect flower
Made its’ beauty of perfection clear.

bildo

Welcome aboard our spaceship!

Thanks for taking the time to stop by and listen to our tunes. 
We’ve got lots of new music and exciting plans for 2009 so keep checking back for updates. 

Hi and thank you for your friendship :) Wishing you a beautiful and safe Sunday... Shine On... Cheetah

*cough*

I know you didn't forget me.. not unless you wanted to get a visit from the STD boogie man! :) lol

http://.www.myspace.com/spencetheband <-- stalking welcomed. support appreciated. haha. All u gots to do is hit the "join" button. the music and album debut August 1st !

Sooo.. what do ya say? :)

Your first review is up on the MySpace Blog

Thanks for your support

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TICK, TICK, TICK...

ANGRY BUDDHA, time is running out.
.. I just sent you an energy boost, but it won't last long.
Act fast and get the power you need to run a bigger mission!

And don't forget to send me some energy back! A favor begets a favor, capisce?

HAPPY BIRTHDAY OLD MAN!!!!! LOL WE LOVE YOU BUNCHES!!!!