Trophy Soldier featured on a French Art Poster site, DEFENSE D’AFFICHER by artist Matthew Rose.
Please print and share…. http://tinyurl.com/3nrmf8k
DEFENSE D’AFFICHER
Tag Archives: byronkingdesign.com
Water Sings
it flows through our lands
and through our veins.
it goes where it can
unless we contain.
the fluid of life
we cannot replace.
two days without
we all meet our fate.
we bottle it.
we dam it.
we pipe it.
we strain it.
it is sold like gold
to poor people now.
river waters and wells
all poisoned somehow.
the number one killer
in the world it is.
the maker of kings.
the murderer sings.
I am not yours to own.
I am not disease.
I am transient.
I am FREE.
My Cyclone
Toxins in the food. In the water. In the air. Genes modified to adapt to this fair. Born in to me a mental exhaustion. Creating in me a major depression. I have had it for years. And all the thoughts that go with it. On the rollercoaster of life I ride. A continuous dwelling machine I hide. Circular thinking in me expands. As another negative thought train begins. What have I done? Is there enough time? Enough rising suns? Will I accomplish what I have begun?
With the clock ticking my pills kick in. My mood balances and lets me in. I am aware. I can now smile. I have done enough. My life feels complete with this chemical relief. I have made enough art for several lives. Written enough for several wives. And really who reads them anyhow? For I am here now. I am in this moment with you.
With our fixer upper home. Carpet to replace and walls to paint too. A home to make ours for heaven’s sake. A new life. The American dream despite all the things I’ve done. It has landed in our lap and a new life has begun. I think about depression and where it did go. It is my dark rider and shadows me. It is there somewhere I always know.
Sometimes I miss the voices it injects into my thinking. The restlessness it makes me feel between blinking. The deep questioning of myself and this world. I do all this still but just for a moment. No more spells cast putting me in a trance. Destructive casualties of a man filled with hate. Hate for the love that I feel. Making me believe that an artist can not be positive and still.
In the moment, now not being held. The dark passenger can wait outside as we build our lives. As our home gets painted and the floors are redone. I’ll continue to take my pills and balance my ride. No more rollercoaster, that I so despise.
How Little I KNow
binary in nature.
yes or no.
this is the flow.
how the universe grows.
a cell divides.
male or female.
yes or no.
the data grows.
our children live
to learn.
to carry our genes
to yearn
for the answers.
to the questions.
the universe unfolds.
bits of data.
life’s algorithm
to know.
the questions
continue.
from one life
to another.
the torch
is passed.
into the database
of life, we last.
simple equations
for the infinite question.
yes or no.
the data grows.
yes or no.
how little I know.
We Strive
Posters of action heroes worshipped. Men with guns getting what they want. Ski masked faces of young men. Pushing through doors. Inflicting fear on who they want. When they want. Physical in nature. Boots to skulls. Hearts broken. Bars for these men await. Can they take it. Will they make it, without being caught. Generations teaching this trade to another. This is how we do it son. Take this gun and take life. Soldiers and cops training to stop this, anarchy.
Needle in arm. Heart beat stops. Body cold. Child calls for help but can’t quit watching commercials. Mother has left now. Did not want him to inherit her training. To hate herself. To make a life with whoever she could. No matter what she had to do. No matter how many times she was abused. The needle became her friend. It was always there. Bottles too. This is why this child cannot become unglued. T.V. was always was there for him, not you.
Grandmother inherits boy and his hate too. No apologies. People learn how to wear their faces like masks.
No need to hide. An unchanged face can disguise. No matter what is going on inside. She feeds
him and cleans him. Acts like there is nothing the matter with dope’s lust. Tells him, your mom just needed
a way out. She didn’t know to how to adjust. The world is a mighty fine place she tells herself, in disgrace.
The strong survive and the weak die. Some animals hide and some fight. Some take flight. Some learn to
walk the invisible line. The line that divides. Railroad tracks run through broken ghost towns. Blocks of row
homes abandoned. Graffiti their new skin. Doors and windows hammered shut. As bodies lie wrapped
up. Keeping the cold out when it arrives. Squatters living next to lawyers. In this animal kingdom, we strive.
Skipping Stones
A stone comes to you hard and rough. Abrasive. You polish the stone and talk to it. Show it respect. Hoping that it will eventually reflect. Hoping that it will learn language. The days go on and no sound returns. No thank you. No yes ma’am. No acknowledgement.
You play dress up. Put the stones with other stones. They all have names and you march them to and fro. Because you make it so. Their ears bud. They slowly begin to sound words. They begin to play together. They speak now. It seems forever. See patterns. They count beans. They become serene.
But they are stones. Rough around the edges. More polished. More functional. Not pretend. Nearly human. For the time and patience you gave. For the games and lessons made. For these stones you sought to reach. For these stones you did teach. Are now ready to skip across their pond. To take down the Goliaths of their future.
Politics Aside
a person shot dead
in the head
crowds rejoice
nationalism is fed
politics aside
no more place to hide
fed to the fishes
cowboys yelling rawhide
as widows and orphans cry
a man that stopped the world
for ten years he did hide
directing the car bombs of jihad
as we fought and we flew
remote control drones
directed from air conditioned zones
civilians signed up to GET SOME
revenge they did want
to war they did point
that each man should see death
once in a lifetime
with death they did dance
for death takes no stance
money funneled into corporations
to rebuild two destroyed nations
schools that were built
fortress walls where men knelt
to pray for a day this would end
when our soldiers would come back
to raise a new generation
teach them not to hate
teach them to believe
that no war is worth one man
trillions should have been spent
on victims of the crimes he did commit
prisons, torture and torment
our morals were tested
forgiving and forgetting not shown
to the enemies that were known
to the prisoners detained
the Lord’s name taken in vain
as a tool to promise change
these are historic times
one man and a plot devised
to take down a culture he despised
his DNA now taken, no way to escape or hide
no cave or walls thick enough to disguise
the end of a decade of terror and lies
an ideology of hate victimized
all of humanity
all virtue
all dignity
all lives
The Tyranny of the King
Tyranny of the King by byron-king
We didn’t want the king so we went to war.
We didn’t want taxes and now we are poor.
Today we watch as a prince and princess are wed.
Across the pond, pomp and circumstance is led
Down the streets that enslaved us from a distance.
Now England is our best ally when we need assistance.
The 13 colonies fought hard for freedom, make no mistake.
Now social wars continue inside these 50 broken states.
Now we mass import Chinese sweatshop products and plastic.
After we fought a war in Korea and a war in Vietnam
To keep the spread of communism from our children.
We chose our freedom to choose to win or lose.
Then our banks were bailed out and main street was fooled.
Corporate greed we sold out to instead of any king.
No universal health care for this country but today we sing
The Queen’s songs on this magical day.
No culture of our own, we have proved Britain’s colony today.
No royal family of our own to bow down to.
We still respect the crown and watch with eyes unglued.
No matter the blood spilled in past to have this view.
We still need a king and a slave trade too.
Hope and Pocket Change
Numbers before my eyes.
New dates, new labor and times.
Not sure how they may take
Me from point A to make
It to point B, to another
Place to orientate.
To buy a house now.
To put money down.
Make charges on a card.
To sign my name King.
As the market bell rings
The future of a new family is found.
A home they wish to round
Out and make their own.
New paint, new floors, new loan.
As bombs fall in distant lands.
As gas drills into toxic water expands.
The state in which we were raised
We wish to educate our own.
To make a life of our own.
To make the world a better place.
No security in this space.
To live from month to month
Is to be American.
With no future but today
Marching into tomorrow in dismay.
Holding onto HOPE even if
It’s just a four letter word.
War from Afaristan
Armed Predator drones flying above.
Human emotions they know not of.
Hunting targets to be blown apart.
Continuing wars that politicians start.
Bombing people like ants.
Little blips on screens they scan.
From refrigerator boxes orders are sent.
Clicking, enjoying, sticking the fight.
An extension of our American might.
For Lunch spreading fire sauce on refried beans.
Right after firing on real human beings.
The video game generation’s calling.
Using their skills to strike the falling.
Civilian casualties just another factor.
Friendly fire another psychological reactor.
These eyes in the sky will find their prey.
Armed Predator drones are flying low today.
The easiest way to kill is by remote.
The targets on these monitors do not float
In the dreams of those who push FIRE.
No PTSD for the U.S. to rewire.
For killing is done best from afar.
No faces to see and remember like scars
