Spoken word poetry I recorded recently.
Tag Archives: die
Distortion I
Distortion I
I close my eyes, inside a dream
Every color fades and every sound pulsates
With each fuck you take in and with each fuck I spew out
A collision of tortured dreamers, with headphones on I drift
I shiver, and shake, and scream, and shout out distorted mumbles
Shattered delusions, with everything I take inside
Just take me out of here, take me away, antihero
Inside a dream, this lovely scheme, distortions
Music pulsates through every part of me, distortions
Lovely distortions of who we once were, what we could have been
Music bleeding through this heart and soul of me
With every fuck I give, with every blurred light I wander into, inside
So cynical with simplicity, so list inside of this, whatever this could be
I close my eyes, inside what appears to be a dream
Someone else’s dream
Just get me out of here, take me from all of this
We don’t belong here, we don’t belong
Inside this sickly blurry dream
We don’t belong here
-Jon Powder-
Wishes
Wishes
I wish for you
Something true
Much truer than this
You deserve so much more
To anyone who cares
I wish you the best
That this life has to offer
To those whom I’ve loved
Family, friends
Makeshift enemies
I do my best to not hold grudges
Even if my weaknesses get to the best of me
I honestly try
To not let my sadness
Take me whole
Even during my darkest moments
I do what I can
To break free from this feeling
This fire will soon fade
And as I sit here and contemplate
All of my wishes
I send out to you
All of you
The night may get cold
But the sun will even shine
Through the coldest days
May these wishes of mine
Reach you
And wrap around you
I send out to you
My best wishes
And may you do what you can
To keep the light shining
In your heart
In your gracious hearts
Every last one of you
I send you my best wishes
Because it is all that a person can do
Can do
-Jon Powder-
The need to feel pain in order to be creative
The need to feel pain in order to be creative
(…written in 2009…)
There is always a need to feel pain for some reason
Inside or outside, but sometimes it can fuel the creative energy
While most of the time it drives me up the wall
Empty words, mean empty threats
A shattered mirror leaning against the wall
Hallucinations inside my dreams
In my mind, I wear a cloak
And the towns I wander in, are lost in twilight
The need to feel pain, is always a necessity
We are a civilization that needs to feel the pain
In a world that spins on when we are just a flick of dust
Scattered in the wind
I am sitting here, rubbing my eyes
Its 4AM and it is not alright to sit here
And be so awake
Looking for empty threats
And turn them into empty words, finding a need
To feel pain to be creative
We are a species hell-bent on pain
Because it makes us feel alive
There is always a need to feel pain for some reason
Inside or outside, but sometimes it can fuel the creative energy
While most of the time it drives me up the wall
And most of the time, I am tired of it all
But still I carry on
Because I don’t know any better
Because it makes me feel alive
When most of the time, this pain
Makes me dead on the inside
Inside
A colony of men
Feeling a thousand paper cuts
The need to feel pain
To be creative
The pain
Never ends
-Jon Powder-
Yesterdays
Yesterdays
Yesterdays, all my yesterdays
Staring down at the edge
December 31st, 2011
Looking at how things may have been
Time is now and never
And this how I could fall
Let go and see how it all has come to be
If I died here, if I died
Because I wanted to
More than anything, I wanted to end it all
Standing at the edge, looking at ghosts as they celebrate
Another new year, another new time
Today may be just another yesterday
But yesterday never felt as long as today
And time has never moved so slowly
and time has never sped up quite like that
Quite like that, a flash, a pause,
looking at the way things have come to be
To here, the beginnings, the endings,
and the runaround and off I go
I didn’t let go, I simply moved on
Or at least I tried, everyone knows I tried
Sitting on a midnight subway, head in my hands, trying not to tremble
Trying not to fall, I get up, I escape another way
I run away, I play to the beat of a sorrowful drum
The sound of sorrowful times, but yesterday never looked so cold
Never felt as cold, as today and today will be another yesterday
But as time will go on I know it will always be inside of me, always be there
Memories of people come and go and time may heal a wound or two
But time won’t erase everything
Time only goes on
So, you see, this is how it came to be
Came to pass, and everyone knew how hard I tried
Standing at edge, seeing how things would have been, could have been
But things never came to be, never ceased to pass me by
A life lived for someone else’s selfish heart
Is not a way to be
But try and tell that to someone when you
yourself have felt this way
When you too have also fallen for a pretty face
When love blinds the heart, it’s nothing to be ashamed of
The rationality of being human, and the pain that comes with the skin we bleed
The life we live, the nights we spend awake, pondering, self-doubting what we can be
What we see, nights where all we want to do is end it all
Take that pill, use that knife, and pull the trigger
Or jump off the edge just like me
Yesterdays, all my yesterdays
Today, tomorrow, another time and space,
who knows what the future brings
I’m not going to preach, I don’t play that self-righteous game,
but I’ll tell you what I’ve seen
What I’ve felt, what I know, I don’t have the answers
But I’ve come a long way, far from where I use to be
Standing there
Standing on the edge
Yesterdays, all my yesterdays, to see than and to see now
It’s not simple, it’s not easy, but you need to get back up
Get up again, as long as there is a beat to drum to, inside your heart
Today may be just another yesterday
But yesterday never looked as cold as how it felt on the inside
When I was standing there
At the edge
Wishing I was someone else
Not wanting to believe, how it all came to be
And I can’t say that it gets better, because that would be a lie
But I can at least say that I try
Every day, I try
-Jon Powder-
A Little Punk For Your Soul
A Little Punk For Your Soul
Injected with antibiotics
The flu shots that made me sick
This virus mutates
And soon I wont be myself anymore
I’d give you a reason to die for
I’d give you something to fight for
I’d give you some punk for your soul
But I’m not some mystic lunatic
I’m sitting in the clinic
Breaking free from my sickness
I’m coming clean
But clean is not enough sometimes
We need to be dirty at times
We need to be devils in angel suites
Wolves in conformist clothing
Commercials for dead-end trends
I’m injected with flu shots
But I’m not feeling too well
I’m still sick, but it’s a different
Kind of sickness
The virus mutates
Depending on the mood that I am in
I’d give you blessings
If only you knew how to take them in
I’d give you anarchy
If only you knew how to play it right
I’d give you a reason
But what reason should I care
If you can’t decide on where you should stand
This virus mutates
In every spiritual way
I’d give a little punk
For your soul
But we’re all sold-out of free speech
Change is not social uprising
It’s bought and sold
And can be found at Wal-Mart
Freedom was sold out
And now your sick and cold
Stoned, like a tired man
Falling down another dark hill
I’ve got my flu shots
Have you mutated too?
I’d give you something to believe in
But I can’t believe in you again
I’m the one who stepped too far
And now I’m cold and crooked
Been damaged, I’m damaged goods
I’m sold to the lowest bidder
So get up and find your own home
I’d give you some punk for your soul
But I have to keep it inside
Soon I’ll detonate
My written words are misspelled
And I’ll never correct them
Have you been healthy?
Have you been on the golden side of the streets?
Have you seen a dove cry?
I’ve spent five weeks recuperating
And this cold comes and goes
I can’t feel this vibe
And time is never on my side
I’m mutating today
Like everyone
Injected, and disconnected
-Jon Powder-
Another Dead Queer Kid
Another Dead Queer Kid
I saw the end of the world
In the eyes of a dead queer kid
When I saw his face, on the TV screen
The newspaper and magazines
Do what they can to avoid
Reporting this kind of news
Scared of what the people will do
All those homophobes
Bigots with no heart, no sense of soul
I saw the end of the world today
In the eyes of a battered queer kid, in the hospital
Clinging to life
I saw the depths of sadness, the loss of hope
In the eyes of a dying queer kid
Suicide, there is no pride
The end is always in sight
When you got no one to turn to, when you got
Nowhere to run
Nowhere to escape to
I saw the end of the world
In the eyes of a lost queer kid
All those homophobes
Can drown out the sunlight
All those fuckers who hold those picket signs
All those queer bashers who
Take away all the hope
This is not the way its suppose to be
This is not the way it should have to be
I saw the end of the world
In the eyes of a scared queer kid
Lost in the darkness
Of this hateful, spiteful ugly world
-Jon Powder-
Jon Descends
Jon Descends (2006 Revised)
And when it all breaks
And I’m left a broken hearted hero
I wish I could descend
A little more down
Further down
And when it all breaks down
I want to escape this reality
In a dream
In a thoughtless act of rebellion
And when I’m left a broken hearted poet
Keep my poems
To look back upon the better days of my existence
Better days
I don’t exist on the terms they set me upon
I don’t roam this life on those useless terms
That those bigots set upon me
I’ve had my ups and downs
And I’ve had better days sitting on my bed
Wishing I was dead
And when it all breaks down
And I’m left a broken hearted rebel
I wish I could descend a little further down
Just so the rays of sunshine
Can’t reach my skin
And liberate this heart of mine
-Jon Powder-
An Open Poem
An Open Poem
Here I am, today feels like my last, but I carry on
My space is always surrounded with dust, the empty room
With posters on the wall, I am a book, open me up
And read, take what you can, because I wont last, I’m dead but
I take my time to resurrect the past, because that is where I’m at
The future is in sight, and I need to catch my breath, and all I do
Is write, a tired man, young and dying fast, with the gloom to fill your doom
Inside you’re rooms, where you sleep, I am awake
It all comes crashing down to fast, an open letter, an unread poem
Scorched hands typing words down, I’m fast, I can’t look back
I am a rebel who’s running down the street, take me somewhere
The city is tired and I’m restless wide-awake-fucked
Do you drive yourself off the edge, just to see the results
Take what you can take from the experience, and make some use of it
I have loved, I have lost, and I have gained personality, and more dignity
I read and I write, I let the art crash and burn, just because
Later on, I can become what I’ve thrown onto the floor
A painting, a picture, a photo crumbled in two
Here I am today, a man, a boy, a queer, a punk rock poetry book
Split me in two, dissect my words, take my life, and sell it as a book
Volumes and volumes of words to be read
If you’ve come this far, than it is only fitting for you to finish
What you’ve started, read me now, read em up, an open letter for you,
an unread poem for me, a series of words, misplaced but still, they make sense
More sense, the more and more you read of them,
I live young, die fast, just like the agony and irony, the Alkaline Trio
To whom I admire, and exorcise their words into me, not out of me
Here I am, with my headphones on, and the music takes whole
No gods, no devils, just artists, and endless sounds
A wall of sound, a tower of harmonies, a sky full of rhythms
A body shattered in pieces, the bass thumping about
Let the music speak to me, let it inspire, let it devour
Let it take control of my heart because without music, without my sound waves
I would be nothing, no dandy, no life, just dead, nothing to resurrect
I’m a broken heart, a lover, a fighter, a whatever-you-call-it, a pumpkin-head
I am the man you see on the book cover, yet I remain unpublished
I am the man on the poster, the art in the albums, the words you look through
Reviewed poorly for another dead trend magazine
The bad ass, who needs some sleep, but I write on
Its not how I do it, its why do it, I can’t stop
Because the words write me, an open letter, an unread poem
A man still searching for a place to belong, a man, looking for love
A man who writes because he’s still lost and restless
I write on because I can’t stop, so make the most of it, take it, read them up
Fuck pretentious, look elsewhere if pretentious is what you seek
I’m not a best-seller, nor will I ever want to be, I’m a cult hero
The anti-hero who likes to be the zero
This is my life, if you’ve come this far than it is only fitting
That you sit back and enjoy the rest
You’ve come this far, you’re a part of the story now
I let the art crash and burn because I sometimes crash as well
Life isn’t easy and you and I know that too fucking well
And it is best to leave the rest unsaid, because I’ll leave it up to you
To figure out the rest
-Jon Powder-
The Optimist
The Optimist
I’m not looking for another voice of a generation
I’m just looking for a voice to fit my own
Something to believe in is something I can’t give in to
Fuck authority is screaming in my mind
I got the punk rock regulations burning in my skin
Like a cigarette it can only linger for so long
Before the cancer comes and kills everything in its way
I’m not looking for another mindless motherfucker
With his hand sin the air, with his ass to the crowd
Turn around and face us, face me, face everyone
Face your generation before the next one comes
To kick us out the door
I don’t want to be the one with the gun to the sky
Shoot down the angels that promise us nothing
But another book of lies
We can’t pinpoint the end of times
The world will spin on whether we’re here or not
Live your life with no shame
Don’t give in to those makeshift pop tart lies
I’m not looking for another voice of a generation
That is the last thing I need
I got the rules and regulations of the punk rock germs
Aching in my skin
Do this do that, you can’t be what you want to be
Its all faceless, domesticated, you are trained to hate authority
Without reason, without proper education
Without the rules thrown at you
If I come off as frustrated
Its because I am
If I come off as a nihilist
Its because I am this way
I got good reason not to become a sheep
I don’t want to be a shepherd luring you away
I just want to be an optimist and always keep my mind open
I need to air out all the lies
I need to find the time
To empty my mind
And start all over again
I’m not looking for a new voice of another lost generation
I just want some piece of mind
-Jon Powder-
DandyJon 