"The Spirit of Honor and Real" - 7/24/05 (draft)

Unstoppable force revolting.
Ejection of the thorn injected relieves me.
Everything so perfectly tied together, I am exploding.
Wrestling as I make the drive to understand why
there is only passion left inside these eyes.
Never again compressing all that I am;
a punk non-aborted fetus that is gonna make good.
Why?
Cause I believe this!

Fighting starts and ends tonight.
The dead will die over and over again -
precisly why I will never make the effort to change enemies
into friends.
Iced cold eyes? Muscles and gel hair? Why dont I listen?
Because it is for the ignorant, that I don't care.
Bleeding in the dirt, noone ever puts a grasp on me.
And thus, interaction with stoned faces with closed minds hurts.
It's not the surface.
What curses me is your pure density and love for blashamy, never seeing what is deep.

Thus the story continues to move on through.
This time I'm going straight toward you, to save you further confusion of insubordinate youth.
This isn't angst. It's truth. The first truth that didnt come from you?
To that comes a laugh. God is the only one who knows the facts.
And in God, I trust. You're just a dumb ass, who will never fully grasp what it means to be
locked on fire and integrity in intensity and prophetic pursuit.
I will not allow you to open my mind and pollute.
If I wasnt raised right, it's an obstacle.
It gives me more heart, to know that my beginings were not wanted to start, by you.
I was gifted and good conviction is still the only thing uplifting.
If my mother failed, and I am a beast, watch me transform as I poetically release all the venom.
Watch me rise like yeast, take our names and bring heaven's credit to them.
We've all been through hell once and again.
Bur I don't qualify, cause I'm alive.
You're fuckin dead, with heart hollow and sore.
Don't let the flames of justice hit you on you're way out the door.
Your bullshit; I am now, for sure, worth more then to stand to endure it.
I'm gone now.
When I will emerge in prodigal style to burn hate and sing?
In my honor, and in your bitterness and spit, there will be no warning.
The Soul and The Enigma have now become one and found motivation to split.
if you have a problem with me.
For, blindness is not a part of what I was created to breath.
Choke on this shit.
Silence is a virtue and it is the moment to leave, when tradgety turns to irony,
and irony turns to humorous misfortune and anger.
I'm editing out that portion of my famly.
To forget a stranger, is executed more easily.
Myelf, ressurection and sure to be forever more and able to see
in the dark of famly-tied anarchy.




Mike O'Toole

"Rebel Without A Watcher"

Life in complication
my step's fallen back
backstepping all the sorrow of this twisted metal
when all your friends are caught hanging in the cracks.
Chains broken from daily rust and routine testing of the links.
So much is there to bleed from the hemorage of an attempt to think.
Helpless with heavily ripped muscle, from all that has been torn apart.
Take the risks.

The reckoning of reckless behavior leaves youth stranded.
Though, looking at past days, the only thing I can safely advocate is reckless abandon.
Shoot this up into your veins: poetic energy that kills addiction to anything else.
I'd tell you it makes you feel alive, but the rush leaves no room to check for pulse.
Thorns, they stick in
pushes ice cold sin to boil over as punker screams out a way to sing.
No need to preach to me.
You are no prophet, but I forever appreciate what you have fought to teach,
and that, I bleed.
An educated artist is not a leach.

I pierced my tongue tonight...
Just to feel the sensation,
and out of curiousity of gazing at the pained physical alterations.

By MIKE PHELAN O'TOOLE