unedited, unfinished works, not meant to be read SO DON'T FUCKING READ THEM!!!

Works transcribed for posterity

Crappy poetry: if you forget about it you can’t learn from it


A single blade of grass

Feeding on the flesh and bones
Of a million generations past.
Safe and warm within the loam
A single blade of grass

It sways and dances in the wind
Secluded in the lawn
It’s cheery green of chloroplast
Is nurtured by the dawn


Nevil Chamberlin

“PEACE IN OUR TIME”. These words are vanity,
The effigy of humanity, will always be insanity

Peace comes through death, as war comes through life.
peace comes to no-one, to everyone comes strife.

so I say to the living, let them see peace.
only misery from life, and joy to deceased.

Words

It is the letter of the law, not the meaning that counts.
Don’t step on any toe’s, yeah might as well sell an ounce

Oh defend us our saviors, please show us the way
god forbid but to give, let live another day,
blue sinners cuff a saint on a normal sunny day.

PREACH the gospel from the pulpit
With all people, all ears,

Use our ignorance against us, exploit constituent’s tears
But no more!
Speak defiance!
Find strength and stand through the years,
find vagrants with vigilance, let vigilante violence appear!

Rambling

Ramble down the road my friend,
that leads to other things.
Maybe to the mother load,
or to the bird that sings.

Travel through the lands,
And see what can be seen.
And join with other bands,
To become hard and lean.

Come to a flashing meadow,
with shades of green and gold.
See a broken ghetto,
decaying gray with mold.

Find yourself a babbling brook,
Sooth you’re aching feet.
Find yourself a classy nook,
Relax with the elite.

Traverse deserted wagon ruts
On god forsaken soils.
Or meet the natives in their huts
and share their secret spoils. (rework)

Find out the secrets that you can.
They do not freely give.
Do not forsake your life or plan.
Rise to your feet and finally live.

Proof

Truth be told I don’t know
If I said that I did, I would be lying.
But I’ll say I do, and I’ll be lying

And you’ll say proof, and I’ll act aloof,
We’ll play this game until we’re through.
I learned nothing, never, but,
I found proof for you.

Womanizer

Come, and feel my attention,
And watch my shifty moves,
Seduce with bad intentions,
Because I’m so damn smooth.

Your eyes are pretty in the moonlight,
They twist and follow mine,
And when I set the mood right,
I’ll pluck you from the vine.

There’s nothing more sadistic than my intent,
Shoving my pistol in your face.
I want you down before me,
Crumbling in disgrace  (borrowed phrase, check copywrite)

And I’ll, underestimate your mind,
I can’t help messing with your head.
I think I’ll park my car,
And fuck you till your dead.

And eventually you’ll hate me,
And I’ll return being slic.
sorry bitch you better check my story,
you know it’s just another one of my jedi mind tricks. ( belongs to Po)

And ultimately, you’ll fall again,
Ultimately, I’ll have you,
Ultimately, you’ll love me,
Ultimately, I’ll shag you.

You’ll look at me with doting eyes,
And I’ll look at you, with my deceit,
And it all starts again,
Searching for fresh meat.

Tochata en Fugue

It can’t be helped,
It’s not my fault.
There was nothing I could do.
A litany of loutish lapses,
With a chorus that never ends.

The twilight

A thicket decays in the shadow of man’s malcontent.
Within, a willow branch hangs loosely as a broken arm
No longer connected by bone, but by sinew of bark alone

Decrepid hulking wrecks of misery that never see new life,
Plead for mercy as they twist and sway slowly in the wind.
Mercy will come soon, mercy in the form of asphalt and bulldozers.

Role Model

He showed me life, and showed me grace
He taught me time and taught me pace
With him I saw my best solace,
He taught me of the human race.

so just imagine my surprise,
he looked at me with faithless eyes
and said his teary eyed goodbyes
then took his drug and died with sighs

Spin Cycle

Novice on a fifteen foot slope
Trip into the curl
Never should have dared to hope
Now in the air he hurls

One digit breaks the surface
While nine are trapped below
Survival now the only purpose
All arrogance laid low

Perception changed in dizzying wash
One inch salvation lie
Futile resistance quickly squash
The beast will watch you die

To gaze into cerulean heights
Through cooling azure seas
Gazing to the heights of heaven
Begging from his knees

Now will nirvana seize him
As darkness fades to black
But from her grip she frees him
She know that he’ll be back

Columbine ethos

you don’t have friends,
Have a friend in me.
you will not bend,
than make them see.

Mind transcends,
Seedy shallow lies.
Pull out the that gun,
And start swatting flies.

River at Dawn (run scansion, restructure)

Steam rises from the mirror
skewing murky reflections from afar.
Passing through his wild fear
The mariner’s vision is barred.

But water is rent by trusted craft.
Coasting through the wispy white,
with good luck prow, and worse to aft,
sun burns away the night

The masters’ landscape is unveiled,
through cotton woods with molten strokes.
The mariner’s patience has prevailed,
finding fiery heaven through a path of smoke.


Sloth

woken from a dream,
halfway between sleep and awareness,
slipping in and out of conciousness.

ashamed of helplessness,
realizing that outside the world is flying by.
I, sloth, enveloped in my sin, pay penance.

the most insidious part of half sleep.
The enveloping malaise,
Hanging on shoulders like some monumental weight,
Dragging down.
amidst the stench of putrid flesh.



The original and highest goal of life is life. All experience is beautiful, there is no bad life. All organisms tenuously cling to the thread of existence, never knowing when fates will cut the string.



Painful

Drifting in ether,
Heaven and hell decay.
Brain rots body crumbles,
Ashes to dust then fade away.


When, when does release come?
When does the scab pull back
revealing the sore,
Black blood crust of brain?

Helpless
Floating
Fated to death
Foreboding.



works in progress (abandoned)



Recalcitrant speeding ticket

Square heads.
beady little eyes.
Badges.
some times even suits and ties.
your mandate comes from the people I hate.

Underclass
Tired of getting pushed around
Money
Kept us quiet until now
The tide is finally getting high

Revenge
Torture coming back around
Prisoners
Rising from the underground
voices bury all your rhetoric

Nobody likes your crew cut
Nobody thinks you are cool
You save justice from the deserving
punishing innocents like broken tools


A vast majority of Tim Duey’s poetry works have been lost.
( divine intervention may have been involved)


Two Parables of Selfesnhess (unfinished, this one is crap, give it an hour and if it doesn’t clean up dump it)


Yeah, pretentiousness is the way to move. What you think your souls the louvre? Mine is not, it’s a pile of shit, lying out there in the middle of the floor. My thoughts are thoughts, and nothing else, impermanence and decadence, they don’t create the life I see, nor the one my fathers saw before. Confessional poetry as a substitute for a psychiatrist is somewhat lacking you see, the more the mind slips the weirder the poetry gets, and there is no differentiation between good and bad. Just a jumble of words scratched on life’s exit door. Yet what wit I have, I’ll give to salve my sojourn. I’ll give you the spare, but I won’t share, the medicine I want and need.


I saw the end a callin, trying to stare at me from way under ground. I didn’t think I’d find a way to shake deaths screeching sound, till I found my soul at the bottom of a well. It was epitaph of 10 thousand years, so fresh with pain, replete with tears, as it told of death and holy wars. The sojourn of my loneliness, it began long ago. Mabye some day it’ll end, but till then it’ll rotate around and around, a wheel of dharma dealing death to dopes that just don’t get it.











Brainless idiot (work in progress, flesh out later)





Suffocating in the embrace of leviathan,
Thoughts are squeezed from his brains.
Though many memories are gone,
Some still remain as stains

Slow death will leave some faint impressions,
While other thoughts will be wiped clean.
His mind still thrives in self reflection,
Only for the sake of his own self esteem.

A painless way to die it seems,
For his nerve endings have no blood.
But painless death and life are dreams,
and a costlier illusion there never was.

For while his thoughts are squeezed from mind,
Snakes venom drips back in.
And while embraced and wholly blind,
He will march towards ignorant sin.

And so his mind is taken,
eaten by the scourge.
His husk remains forsaken,
A puppet for leviathan’s purge.


Love revealed

Down the manic road of marriage,
Meandering through the miles.
The pouring rain of true disdain
Does not erase his wiles.

Chronic copulation,
Deceives discerning eyes,
And brief infatuation,
Begets all compromise.

His hatred is his dearest friend,
For that’s what keeps him free.
Keeping him alone again,
Escaping the devils plea


Light

It comes in glowing shafts
That shift across the room.

Blotting out the darkness
of ominous impending doom.

And when it penetrates the sorrow,
Shinning bright, and singing clear.

I think about tomorrow,
And tortured groans soon split my ear.



waking from depression

temporary freedom.
a brain,
like a bird
set free from a cage
with a string on it’s leg.

soar high,
back to earth soon.
joyous elevation,
then freefall.

brief seconds,
lifetimes of joy,
brief sensation,
then,
numbness again.

it was only a dream



Withering


First it enters,
Smiles,
Grows,
Stands up,
Clothed.
Then experience.
Wind blows.
Weather.
Body to leather.
Hard and lean,
Only for so long.
Wind howls,
It yellows.
Sags.
Closer to the ground,
Then into it,
Skin to dust,
Teeth to dirt,
Then it leaves. ---




American work ethic

Darkest rumblings of the heart, with
Insufficient toils plus sloth.
Brought on by decadent dissipation,
Removing us from the eye of God.

If I were a nation,
Then I’d turn blood to oil.
Watching workers suffer,
Until the desert boils

But I’m not a nation,
A lazy man instead,
So I sit and watch tv,
Till I am finally dead.

Enter the Dragon

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Enter the Dragon

With Vitality smothered,

and scales rotting,

a beautiful old beast has fought illness for centuries.

It recovers,

only to suck in new poison with new medicine,

only to expunge virtue with plague.

Old good is forgotten for new good,

and old evil for new evil.

Hubris makes the illness much more difficult to treat.