Changed The Name But Still The Same

Hi folks,

I have been ‘From That Little Weird Place’ for the majority of the year but now I am ‘Hockadower’.

I changed it because I felt it was too long and most people would always forget it (sometimes even myself).

Now it is HOCKADOWER, hopefully a more memorable title.

Peace out.

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Recycled

Shot in a field. Strangled in a basement. Starved in a hut.

A sheet of paper reports news.

Stabbed in a store. Burnt in a fire. Gassed in a chamber.

Another sheet is added to the pile of news.

Hit in a home. Raped in a bed. Dumped in a lake.

Stacks of paper report news.

Shot in a field. Strangled in a basement. Starved in a hut.

The paper is too heavy to hold.

Stabbed in a store. Burnt in a fire. Gassed in a chamber.

There is no room to store it.

Hit in a home. Raped in a bed. Dumped in a lake.

It will have to be shredded.

raw

go blank to your responsibilities
look into the eyes of the one you speak for
do it every night
acquaint yourself with your impression
you abuse what you are unsure of
when you should be pointing at privileges
let your sweat speak
your blood leak
when words do not carry a connection
we hide nakedness
we hide raw

Me and I.

Why is it easier to dress other wounds than our own?

Why is it easier to look at other people than the mirror?

Why do we preach love but hold none for ourselves?

It’s just the two of us in here.

I’m the mind and you’re the body.

We are bound to each other for life but we couldn’t be more further apart.

O Where Is My Feast?

O where is my feast?

 Where are my pitchers of wines

Being generously drunk by

Intellectuals and swines?

Where are my bards from far off lands,

And my servants

Awaiting my spit flying commands?

 O where is my feast?

 I grow tried of the roaches

That squirm in my bed,

And the terrible thoughts

That lie in my head.

The cracks in my hands.

The pain in my neck.

The constant demands,

And lack of respect.

 O Where is my feast?

Food For Worms

Many foolish people live selfishly, surround themselves in material goods, and only see things for its face value.

Ultimately, there is no divine purpose for our existence. We exist to exist. That doesn’t mean we can’t live a meaningful life. Devote yourself to love. Love is a balance of taking and sharing, like breathing.

We are all just food for worms after all.