Struggles handed down
Inherited Karmic debt
From father to sun
Turning souls
Into holy ghosts
Like Swiss cheese
Covering the moon
A counter intuitive balance
Disguised distractions
Falling short of action
Are these words
Motivated by reaction
Drifting through seas
I may never swim
This life of passage
Into this maze
I call home
Beauty beholds
The squalor I ignore
Stewed in juices
I try to escape
Before the feeling fades
Into another promise
I forgot
To keep to myself
Robert Gray Gallagher
COPYRIGHT 2012 RETROCOLLECTIVE PUBLISHING GROUP. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Saturday, January 7, 2012
A Hard Line Into The Sun
Can you see inside the eyes of a monster?
Could you find a way to let it go?
Could you fall away even faster?
Or is this all that you think that you know
Flying through the enemy airspace
They have got you locked in their sights
We keep worshiping angels
Whose angle it is to turn noon into night
Armageddon's men of disguise
Keep feeding us their medicinal lies
Fading fortunes are covered up and wearing thin
You might as well stop your self from trying
Because there is nothing left to do
Take cover my fabled sons of goodnight
Wash yourselves up against the shore
Extend a hand to your own unreciprocated demands
And walk a hard line into the sun
Follow it down until it bleeds no more
Tap into a vein until it is bruised and sore
Quality time should be of our making
Otherwise it lacks the freedom of form
We can't see the levels
Tata slaughtered his Indians
As the Germans die in the Russian snow
Washington crossed the Delaware
Their worlds of promise deliver cancellations on time
Robert Gray Gallagher
Copyright 2010 Retrocollective Publishing Group. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Could you find a way to let it go?
Could you fall away even faster?
Or is this all that you think that you know
Flying through the enemy airspace
They have got you locked in their sights
We keep worshiping angels
Whose angle it is to turn noon into night
Armageddon's men of disguise
Keep feeding us their medicinal lies
Fading fortunes are covered up and wearing thin
You might as well stop your self from trying
Because there is nothing left to do
Take cover my fabled sons of goodnight
Wash yourselves up against the shore
Extend a hand to your own unreciprocated demands
And walk a hard line into the sun
Follow it down until it bleeds no more
Tap into a vein until it is bruised and sore
Quality time should be of our making
Otherwise it lacks the freedom of form
We can't see the levels
Tata slaughtered his Indians
As the Germans die in the Russian snow
Washington crossed the Delaware
Their worlds of promise deliver cancellations on time
Robert Gray Gallagher
Copyright 2010 Retrocollective Publishing Group. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
A Day Of Reckoning
Stumbling
Around the questions
Falling through the cracks
And into the arms
Of the man I’ve run from
Since my first breath
Until my final sigh
The man in the mirror
Showing me
That the devils alive
And well…….
Far from the man I suspected
A scared little man
Wrapped in illusions
Insulating himself Safe inside
This world he’ll leave behind
Running through this prison
A prism of smoking mirrors
Twisted up from the lies
We tell ourselves
Trying to stomach the situation
Of this state of a nation
We’re all left to find
Full of a feeling
Dragging us down
Raping and pillaging
This village in our minds
A Heart attacks
Surrender now,
Quick, before it’s too late
Before I was born
A table that’s long since turned
Into a fucking sun
As it continues to burn
The truth into lies
Going nowhere
Up from the underground
To look for the answers
Found in questions
Better unsaid
Lies, lies, lies….tell me more
Fill my head up with your lies
So that you can feel alright
With the monster that lives
Inside the evil deeds you’ve done
Fuck you…. no more politically correct
Oxy moron
Central intelligence
Shank stuck in your neck
Out of words
That adds up to a sum
That’s always less than the love
We hide from ourselves
Sick of trying to consider
Those who never considered me
Trying to right the wrongs
Of those too scared to see
This world they left behind
Too self obsessed to acknowledge
These scars they have laid in our minds
Time is running out
The earth is my domain
And the time is upon us
Fast approaching
A day of Reckoning
Robert Gray Gallagher
Copyright 2009 Retrocollective Publishing Group. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Around the questions
Falling through the cracks
And into the arms
Of the man I’ve run from
Since my first breath
Until my final sigh
The man in the mirror
Showing me
That the devils alive
And well…….
Far from the man I suspected
A scared little man
Wrapped in illusions
Insulating himself Safe inside
This world he’ll leave behind
Running through this prison
A prism of smoking mirrors
Twisted up from the lies
We tell ourselves
Trying to stomach the situation
Of this state of a nation
We’re all left to find
Full of a feeling
Dragging us down
Raping and pillaging
This village in our minds
A Heart attacks
Surrender now,
Quick, before it’s too late
Before I was born
A table that’s long since turned
Into a fucking sun
As it continues to burn
The truth into lies
Going nowhere
Up from the underground
To look for the answers
Found in questions
Better unsaid
Lies, lies, lies….tell me more
Fill my head up with your lies
So that you can feel alright
With the monster that lives
Inside the evil deeds you’ve done
Fuck you…. no more politically correct
Oxy moron
Central intelligence
Shank stuck in your neck
Out of words
That adds up to a sum
That’s always less than the love
We hide from ourselves
Sick of trying to consider
Those who never considered me
Trying to right the wrongs
Of those too scared to see
This world they left behind
Too self obsessed to acknowledge
These scars they have laid in our minds
Time is running out
The earth is my domain
And the time is upon us
Fast approaching
A day of Reckoning
Robert Gray Gallagher
Copyright 2009 Retrocollective Publishing Group. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
We Shall Soon Forget
In case you've forgotten
The matter of fact
The truth of matter
And the substance it lacks
Following geniuses
As they attempt to dissect
Organic wisdom
Ancient artifacts
Facilitating progress
Enabling growth
Of an external distraction
Manifestations born
From our most human reaction
To the truth we define
Keeps us running in circles
As we try to find
A perfect bond
To hold this material
Jigsaw puzzle in place
To see our spirits reflection
Inside the smallest atom
That makes up this ship
That’s starting to sink
To the bottom of a dream
We shall soon forget
Robert Gray Gallagher
2012 Retrocollective Publishing Group. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
The matter of fact
The truth of matter
And the substance it lacks
Following geniuses
As they attempt to dissect
Organic wisdom
Ancient artifacts
Facilitating progress
Enabling growth
Of an external distraction
Manifestations born
From our most human reaction
To the truth we define
Keeps us running in circles
As we try to find
A perfect bond
To hold this material
Jigsaw puzzle in place
To see our spirits reflection
Inside the smallest atom
That makes up this ship
That’s starting to sink
To the bottom of a dream
We shall soon forget
Robert Gray Gallagher
2012 Retrocollective Publishing Group. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Africa Serengeti
Africa Serengeti
You privileged tyrants inside this house of doom; you have consumed the forbidden fruit of greed. Suddenly, without recourse, this freight train of idiots has been set into motion with reckless abandon. Stars of modern relics flutter in our hindsight. Tales of unforeseen decay accompany this land of sleepwalkers. Cops and robbers trapped inside this land of cowboys in search of new frontiers. Your inner ci ties stand as nothing but Remnants of a deceased dream.
Its inhabitants wait to sing their song of redemption but no song is sung. All you can here is “wash your window’? Or “spare a quarter”? How about a big “fuck you”, give me my identity back! You built this wasteland for me to dwell in. do you find pleasure watching me panhandle the last of your grandfather’s money?
Remember one thing you nation of sleepwalkers, Africa was around long before Jefferson ever compromised my black queen. So don’t forget Rome or Hitler’s lost vision of grandeur. On a geological time scale your fifteen minutes of fame are almost up but ours has yet to come.
Robert Gray Gallagher
Copyright 2012 Retrocollective Publishing Group. All Rights Reserved
You privileged tyrants inside this house of doom; you have consumed the forbidden fruit of greed. Suddenly, without recourse, this freight train of idiots has been set into motion with reckless abandon. Stars of modern relics flutter in our hindsight. Tales of unforeseen decay accompany this land of sleepwalkers. Cops and robbers trapped inside this land of cowboys in search of new frontiers. Your inner ci ties stand as nothing but Remnants of a deceased dream.
Its inhabitants wait to sing their song of redemption but no song is sung. All you can here is “wash your window’? Or “spare a quarter”? How about a big “fuck you”, give me my identity back! You built this wasteland for me to dwell in. do you find pleasure watching me panhandle the last of your grandfather’s money?
Remember one thing you nation of sleepwalkers, Africa was around long before Jefferson ever compromised my black queen. So don’t forget Rome or Hitler’s lost vision of grandeur. On a geological time scale your fifteen minutes of fame are almost up but ours has yet to come.
Robert Gray Gallagher
Copyright 2012 Retrocollective Publishing Group. All Rights Reserved
Where Shall I Begin?
Words keep falling
On their target
Nourishing the fears
Along this whimsical march
Of forgotten souls
Finding our way
Through a contorted maze
Which seems to have no end
Where shall I begin?
How do I sum up
The struggles
Of the unaccounted man?
These misfortunate soldiers
Carry out the work
Of their respective gods
Worn like masks
On battlefields that begin
Inside the minds of their masters
There will be no relief
Sifting through the carnage
Of these cannon foddered men
While the men of power
Who have made the rules
Continue to help themselves
They cannot But help themself
To more of whatever they believe
They think they need to be complete
Or at least distracted
From this lie
They too must live
Though on a grander scale than I
Afforded through the actions
Of the unsuspecting
Who accept the lie
And build their life upon it
As if it were the truth
Men of privilege and of pomp
Worship their material pride
As the common man judges with a scowl
So when does a man become uncommon?
Why would he ever wish to fall in line?
With a plan born out of confliction
Feeding off manipulation
Furthering the cause
Of those who shall never be known
These mad little marionettes
Behind the scenes
Of this global set up
Are surely a power
Greater than I
As long as I continue
To covet these illusions
Spawned out of fear
Weaving a corrosive thread
Through the collective heart
binding us all
To elude a truth
That shall find us
Not a minute before
We find ourselves
Robert Gray Gallagher
Copyright 2010 Retrocollective Publishing Group. All Rights Reserved
On their target
Nourishing the fears
Along this whimsical march
Of forgotten souls
Finding our way
Through a contorted maze
Which seems to have no end
Where shall I begin?
How do I sum up
The struggles
Of the unaccounted man?
These misfortunate soldiers
Carry out the work
Of their respective gods
Worn like masks
On battlefields that begin
Inside the minds of their masters
There will be no relief
Sifting through the carnage
Of these cannon foddered men
While the men of power
Who have made the rules
Continue to help themselves
They cannot But help themself
To more of whatever they believe
They think they need to be complete
Or at least distracted
From this lie
They too must live
Though on a grander scale than I
Afforded through the actions
Of the unsuspecting
Who accept the lie
And build their life upon it
As if it were the truth
Men of privilege and of pomp
Worship their material pride
As the common man judges with a scowl
So when does a man become uncommon?
Why would he ever wish to fall in line?
With a plan born out of confliction
Feeding off manipulation
Furthering the cause
Of those who shall never be known
These mad little marionettes
Behind the scenes
Of this global set up
Are surely a power
Greater than I
As long as I continue
To covet these illusions
Spawned out of fear
Weaving a corrosive thread
Through the collective heart
binding us all
To elude a truth
That shall find us
Not a minute before
We find ourselves
Robert Gray Gallagher
Copyright 2010 Retrocollective Publishing Group. All Rights Reserved
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