Today

I’ve been dead for years and you just noticed
Today you watched me float away without saying a word

You could have at least giving me a hug
Nothing destroys me more then your Public displays of affection

Nothing hurts me more then the fact that your happier then me
I still don’t know how long I’ll last

I’ll probably just go home
And I never thought about love truly until today
And now today I’m dying, today I’m losing all that I used to have
Today I’m losing my mind

Today I can’t spell, today I’m shaking

Today I need you, and you aren’t even awake yet

I need your approval today and I need to feel normal
I need to touch the ground
I need to be free
And the scariest thing is that i might live long 

For More from Anthony Day Grandin:

Twitter: @AnthonyDayGrand 

OFFICIAL WEBSITE: http://www.anthonygrandin.com
FOR Information on the New Book “THE CITY BREAKS ITS PROMISE” Available now on Amazon!!!——)))))http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wrgv3RUOtk8

WARMONGER IN THERAPY: Nothing Last’s Forever

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Learned tonight that it’s rare that something lasts forever, and that Life is just a cruel game. It’s why some of us resort to Metal and Hardcore music, because it’s a mild obscenity to the world that you can throw up. I don’t want to hear about love, and sex and kissing, all that bullshit. Like come on, where is the cutting, the hate, throw a little violence. Life isn’t fun, life is a bad joke that has a fucked up punchline.

Tonight is a turning point in the Warmonger in Therapy. I decided that i may not have as many close allies as i thought before, which is a perfect background to become an author. A lot of people highly doubt my ability to write let alone publish three books in less then a year. They doubt my skill, my resources and my ability to even stay alive, luckily i actually quite enjoyed THE ARTIST so i’ve become deaf to the bullshit. Lot’s of bullshit, or bollocks, i can’t use that word but i wish i could.

Not to say that I’m scared for the future but I’m far more cynical, as of tonight everything i thought was driven purely in the white snow has crashed while riding through the smog. Worst of all it crashed in a nasty pond full of regret, anger and fear. I’m fearful for a lot of things, i’ll make sure you guys get to know your humble narrator far better as the moments pass. Forget the poetry, i’m going to cut straight to the chase. There is nothing better for writing then dread, pain and then those moments when you are shocked by a certain event. Right now i’m shocked by a certain event so I decided to write

I’m a masochist, not literally. I haven’t gotten to the point where Bruce Willis needs to rescue me from Zed or Kakihara, but i enjoy pain in an emotional capacity. It makes life far more interesting, rather then moseying around a liberal arts facility for four years, fornicating and drinking cheap beer, i’d rather adventure into the depths of the mind for a couple of years. I’ve given myself two years to explore the pain and to see how far it can take me.

After all this is Warmonger, the Plight and the Fury, not the fairytales of peace, love and virtue. Please prepare yourself for a bumpy ride, because i’m not by any means afraid to drive through the smog. Let’s Hit It

 

Acts of Children

I’m damaged tonight

This damage does hurt

I entertain the days

When hate had grace like passion but there are failures

And Where is my life, or the light?

It’s the lost love of children that define my plight

 

I’m sick of this shit

I’m falling further and further away from my love

I try to talk to her, but she pushes me away

I confess what I need to hear

Let me in don’t close the windows down

Where is my sight, that defines my life

It’s the trauma of children that’s persists in my life

 

She doesn’t love me, nor does she want to be with me

Those words stick to my fat cells

The facial expression tells all

The scary moment before I fall, my hearts stops in motion

I write these words with my hands numb

I open my mouth, and insert a gun

Where is the fight, that defined my life?
It’s the doom and the fear, that violate my rights

 

Where are you now, are you with someone else

Is this the end, is there no more

I’m poised yet so lively made up of everywhere

I sleep to forget the regret that’s winning now

I don’t understand your dislike, but there is one last fight

In my bones

I hate the grace of passion because passion leads to failure now

But where is the light, that lights up my life

Where is the fight, the defined the night

Where is the reason, we can make it right

It’s the acts of children that define my life

And it’s the lost love of children that define my plight

 

 

 

Last Poem (For You)

 

There is nothing to fear, now lets get together and conquer the world. If I don’t swirl or smile while I lowercase the hippo, understand I usually fall in love with PTSD Nympho. Confirm the past with the present, with an endeavor that shines and glows, who will stop me nobody knows!

 

Yo I realized I’m not enough, I see through your god, your words and everything you preach, its bittersweet when you disappear from my reach. I can see the darkest lie is true, I wrote my last poem for you

 

 

 

I don’t need a weapon to lose my life yeah, but I’m dying to be forgiven. Sadness is never ending, the ballad beat the eulogy, my last poem is just the beginning. The sound of a fight is the bane of my silent night, it’s a new name controlling the game. I breath threats, your presence in this equation is as relevant as a cassette, and as I spit into the face of trauma with a New Flame, I swear on my life this will never be the same

 

I can see the darkest lie is true, I wrote my last poem for you. Created riddles for you children like Winnie The Pooh, solving the mystery without a clue, this perestroika is my enigma, to keep up my stigma now watch me burn, cut my face, only wanted a taste.

 

Talk to me, flourish at an early age yeah, I sustained non fiction on the first page moments before I embrace unchecked rage, aggression, I was born to set the world on fire let me sum it up in a melody or a dreadful epiphany, I’d never thought I’d live long enough to cook goals like rotisserie but enemies fell like Rome, Chris and I are the New Triumvirate, are you illiterate or just really stupid, words aren’t a threat just my best bet, what are the odds we can end this centennial with success that’s millennial, meet each regret just to breed pets to collect all of society’s debts

 

 

 

The heat is rising, disguises and souvenirs, I did things my way, debonair. Its an ending fitting for the start, I live life for those who chose to depart. I’ll thrash and tear you apart, because deep down inside I really hate you.

 

The aftermath of a cruel gag, it’s the era of cool pictures and unquestionable swag. I hold a brown paper bag in the ICU, slit my wrists and then wrote this ode to the nine people In my fucking crew. We stand perpendicular to the animal kingdom, gargantuan, REPRESENT, homeless with a immaculate tent

 

I wrote my last poem for you, but there is no remorse in this milieu. So get ready for my big debut, I said I’d off myself but my life is extended, question of life open ended, I’m hurt but no longer dependent, I suffer and cry, but this is the biggest fuck you to the ugliest lie, I live through my work so I’ll never die

 

 

Warmonger in Therapy #1

Journal Entry Number 01

 

            I wanted to figure out how to make my audiences like me, I have confidence in my writing but not in myself. Sometimes I feel like the chosen one, and sometimes I wish I wasn’t ever born. Not bipolar however, they ruled that out for me. There are a lot of other problems that I have, severe anxiety, major depressive and biggest of all I have a hard time loving myself. So I want to introduce myself as Anthony Day Grandin, author and struggling human being.        

            Now I am technically a author, one who is in intense limbo. Sometimes I feel like they need to tip me into a cold tub next to Leonardo Dicaprio and I can get out of this dream within a dream. I wrote three books and am shopping two of them around. The alternative decision of going Indie is making a lot of sense unless someone discovers my writing. I just am meticulously preparing for all of this. A lot of time I beat myself for preparing for fame, sadly I don’t think I’ll be impacting the whole world with my books, but if I can intrigue someone for about three hundred pages I’ll be happy. If I can even publish a book I’d feel like I’d need to go to church because that means there is a god.

            As a young child I found myself in very scary situations, very traumatic ones that I never thought I’d escape from. At age 11 I believed that I would commit suicide by joking down the stairs. Luckily I never tried until later in my life. I was searching for acceptance, a meaning for life or friends. Nothing of that sort, I just wanted a way to get rid of all of the pain that I had.

            I miss a lot of things, we all do. I think sometimes that it’s unfair the way life treated me, and it wasn’t until a little while that I fully realized that life is a fucking sick and dangerous thing, full of bad people, disturbing events and a whole lot of violence. So then I thought, maybe I had the perspective to write about some of these things. Now when I was younger I wrote completely glorifying violence, my first book was about a Black Panther living in a shack who brutalizes his wife’s killers. I was only thirteen and I got the idea from watching to many Bruce Lee Movies and from that damned DVD set full of obscure Blaxploitation films, but the book had a beginning, a middle and an end. I stopped writing through the serious traumatic events, but it wasn’t until I was in my recovery that I started writing.

            I sometimes felt like one of those soldiers who have shellshock next to stop and shop, the journey I had took a massive toll on my mental ability. It was craziness, and sometimes I wonder if I came out with a pure heart. I’m a broken man, and I’ll never be the same.

            So when I tell you I am a struggling being, I want to warn you in advance. But a large portion of people say I write well, and that always makes my day. I also realized not to long ago that I will no longer will simply writing for fun and to get emotions out, this is going to be my job. I have three books coming out and I hope to gain some new fans by putting some writing out there. I was born to be a writer and I want to make an impact. If I can entertain, bring some light to the darkness, create some excellent stories and characters, I’d be very happy. I just want to write!
(More Info on Books next Tuesday!)

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