Hope - ‘12 acrylic on slate
beyond all circumstances
been great and far, high and low as might be.
gorged on feasts starved and chewed wildflower.
i have dreamed upon my brothers grave,
have rested within masonic temples.
taken a strangers ink in a distant land,
i have had my flesh branded at the one home i have known.
i have been equated to less worth then the dirt to cover my corpse,
been praised a living lord, fallible god of madness.
used, broken, beaten, raped, tortured, locked and confined, mutilated,
crossed by those tasked to protect this very existence.
survival is the highest law in nature.
Tim Batty - ‘12
Gilded the tragedy
never been well at suffering for the sake of social posture.
enduring for the ideal concept of a word.
yet it is hard when the others defined meaning does not equate,
nor properly embody the conclusion of the status Friend.
lit amber would be taken to destroy the glimmer,
of the false prophets great and true.
such be as they come in fine guise,
caring and warm, welcome in depictions.
tainted song and sways, sirens poised ready.
to dash your skulls upon the stone
Tim Batty - ‘12
The never ending battle
Metallic underflow cutting away,
slowly what once stood there.
a pagan temple to a lord without name.
land turned over buried and built upon,
great glass towers of space.
yet not to live within.
how quickly they would topple,
from the scythe to the wheat upon harvest.
where have all our rebels gone.
take my blade, take my voice,
take away my cause to fight.
watch the cattle line up for slaughter.
for your country for your rights.
die for the enemy that cannot be found.
pay another dollar, fire another volley,
to fight against an idea.
chase the ghosts, fighting a puppet war.
as home truly tumbles around us.
Tim Batty -‘12
flotasm and debri
All things derive to perspective.
what is defined as great,
is minute to the cosmos.
what human kind defines as god like.
is minute to the universe.
to our pets,
are we not akin to grand demi-gods,
to the wasp great cosmic bodies,
within their universe.
what of the conjecture of a church.
told abstract truths,
of beings that resemble self.
what i know,
is that i know nothing.
in terms of perspective.
Tim Batty - ‘12
Uncensored rant #4
get a fucking chin boy,
then cut it.
growing up.
it seems like the only thing to do.
its not every fall that hurts.
just never knowing when…
that sudden stop at the end.
the survival rate for everything is zero.
nobody is getting out of here alive.
might as well take everything you can get.
cause we all pay the big toll.
do it for the Gipper do it for the Gipper Jimmy!
fuck the gipper its nineteen-fifties medicine he is so pumped full of morphine and was given a frontal lobotomy with a spork.
if we are even able to evolve from this point.
it will be known as the fucking stupid age,
our ass backwards concepts will make the dark ages look like a hiccup.
Timothy Batty~ ‘11
a few missing
The Jack of Spades had proclaimed his affection,
The Queen of Hearts might only accept in fashion.
The King Of Hearts would take Blade to Temple.
The Jack of Clubs would cast downwards,
The Jack of Hearts might fall as Fool.
The King of Clubs took to the bloody fields.
The Queen of Clubs enjoyed a fine bit of cake.
Tim Batty - ‘12
