Where's God?

Where's the blackness?
The great dark sky
plunging us
into
an endless misery.

Where's the fire?
The enormous flame
burning our souls
into
ashes.

Where's the plague?
The incurable disease
eating us alive,
devouring our loved ones.

Where's the hate?
The world war
killing all,
filling mass graves.

Where's the end?
Anticipation is murderous.

Slow...

We've waited centuries,
we don't deserve
this boundless torment.

The suspense needs to cease,
humanity
has run its course.

Where's God?

We need our Father.

How Could I Forget?

He is slipping
away...

With each passing day
his memory
burrows
deep
past his grave
into the forgotten.

His voice
once loud and unmistakable,
now a whisper
fading.

His touch
once warm and embracing,
now is cold,
no longer felt.

His heart
once open and beating,
now a muscle,
dead and empty.

His life
once wild and unpredictable,
now long gone,
buried beneath
the wasted days,
the lonely nights,
the broken dreams.

The thought of forgetting
is unbearable,
but it's happening
with ease.

My ears are going deaf,
my hands are losing grip,
my heart can no longer stand
to be blue,
my life is somehow complete
without you.

How can I do this
to you?

How could I forget
you?

Will our spirits
ever meet
again?

No Need

Most
only see beauty
on the outside.

Beauty
is PHYSICAL
and nothing else.

Beauty
doesn't describe them
or many others.
Only a choosen few
can proclaim
this arrogant word.

Those
that cannot,
look in the mirror
with disgust
at their hideous nose
or wandering eye.

When on the street
they aim their frustration
at the woman with hairy
arm pits,
they laugh
at a big head,
mock
a small ass
with wide ankles
and missing toes
and that
is all they see
until they get home
to the mirror.

They never
look past your imperfections
or their own.
That is all
they see.

They don't
realize the overwhelming
BEAUTY
lying beneath.
They don't
see magnificent, dangerous
eyes
hidden behind the nose
or the unbelieveable
hips
under the petite breasts
or the radiant soul
shinning through
their unpleasantness.

They see
no beauty.
They see
no soul
because they
themselves
have lost
their own.

They have become one
dimensional
and will forever
stay as one.
There's no changing
their hideous
thoughts
and there's no changing
your imperfections
so why
try?

Are We in Love?

Your clothes
are on
and mine
are off.

I'll use your favorite word
to describe how
I feel,
awkward.

You keep
your beautiful body
away from me
and not
the rest.

Now tell me
while I'm still naked,
why is that?

Are we in love?

I guess
I'll never
know.

I Wish This Was a Lie

The hours
with yourself
seem to be
too long
and the days
spent
with someone else
seem to be short.

This is the was
life
was never meant
to be,
yet
this is the only
life
we know
and there's not
a fucking thing
we can do about it.

In Between the Death Traps Lies Flashes of Inspiration

I am going to fail
all my life.
I am going to give up
and make mistake
after mistake.

I don't mind.
I am still
going to try
and demand nothing
in return.

In this meaningless existence
I will not put up
a meaningless fight.
I will stand firm
and believe in myself
and find out about myself
in every possible way,
no matter
how miserable life gets,
no matter
how long I survive.

This is a promise
I will never break.

Waking Up

feels like death
has crawled
into your mouth
and took control
of your body
and mind...

leaving you
only with
your eyes
to watch
the living
continue on
without you.

Your Newfound Friend

Take me out,
I want to play.

Prick your finger
with me,
till a drop of life
is squeezed out.

Do you like the bleeding?

Do you want it to go on
forever?

No more childish games.
We must get serious.

Place me on your skin
and dig in.
Saw your wrist to the bone.

Don't do it in your home,
do it in public
with your family taking pictures
and cheering you on.

When that gets boring,
place me on your neck
and sever your artery.

Don't let your precious blood go to waste,
cup it
in your hand
and give it to little children
to drink.

Drink some yourself,
taste you own death,
courtesy of me
your newfound friend.

Death by Bearded Clam

A vagina
is flying in the sky.
The muff
eclipses the sun
and swoops down
after me.

Before the pussy lips
swallow me,
a waterfall
of menstral blood
is used to marinate my dirty skin
and rotting organs.

The lips open
and swallow me
whole.

In total darkness,
in my tomb,
in the womb,
this is not always
how I pictured dying,
but this death feels
pleasurable,
exceptionally better
than getting ran over
by a drunk.

Sacrifice

I have a fantasy.
I wish for it
everyday,
but my dreams rarely come true.

The next lucky person
that crosses my path
with a shovel
can take all their years
of frustrations
and broken dreams
out
on my face,
my chest
and drive the tip
right through my scrotum.

I want to watch
as my genitals
hang
by the smallest shred
of skin
then,
smile as my hairless sack
is ripped off
by the wind
and buried
in the mud.

Why?

For the greatest feeling:
To make the unfortunate
happy.

Atheist Jupiter Review

Atheist, legendary tech metal band that has been pushing the boundaries of metal since they first formed in the mid 80s. All one has to listen to is their first two albums Piece of Time and Unquestionable Presence, in order to realize the monumental contribution they have made. They have always been generations ahead of their time, which is why they have often been misunderstood and one of the reasons why they have not released a studio album in damn near two decades. Now founding members, Steve Flynn and Kelly Shaefer, are back writing together and ready to release their most anticipated album, Jupiter, for a whole new set of ignorant ears to misinterpret.
Out of the gates of Jupiter is “Second to Sun.” The first thing that is quite noticeable is the organic production. This is rarely heard in today’s music world, where everything seems to be overproduced and represents nothing of what a band actually sounds like when they play live. Not Atheist. Not Jupiter. As usual, they are of a most different and bizarre breed of musicians. Drummer, Steve Flynn, didn’t even pick up a drumstick for 14 years and no one will hardly notice on this album. The level he’s playing at is astronomical. He’s a skin pounding beast. It’s an absolute blessing to be able to hear his brilliant talent dominate throughout the entire album.
Jupiter could be Atheist’s most unified and challenging album to date. The best song that contributes to this bold statement is “Fictitious Glide.” It’s a good representation of what their fans have loved them for. From start to finish, there’s no shortage of complex riffs and just plain weirdness. From there, the album continues magnificently twisting through pure grooves and turning into utter brutality. It’s heavy, it’s obscure, it‘s afuckingmazing.
Despite all of the praise, there are some drawbacks. First off, if you have never liked Kelly Shaefer vocals, then you will continue not to enjoy them. He sounds pretty much the same as he always has from the early years of Atheist to his time with Gnostic. Second, Jonathon Thompson, the replacement bass player, has massive shoes to fill. He will face major criticism. Original bass player Roger Patterson and his replacement, Tony Choy, are both phenomenal bass players. No one in their right mind would want to follow in their footsteps, but Thompson manages, in this listener’s ears, to achieve this feat and very few can match his volatile and intricate style of play.
Only time will tell if yet again Atheist have created, not only a groundbreaking metal album, but maybe even a whole new genre. They will have many, many critics pissing all over Jupiter. They will also have many that will be bludgeoning their beefsteaks with praise and having legions of orgasms due to Atheist’s flawless musicianship. One thing is for sure, they have not lost me as a dedicated fan. I will continue to play Jupiter over and over again until another band can come along and somehow surpass their level of talent. At that point, I will probably be in a convalescent home shitting myself with joy.

Lynt Profile: Steve Tracy

Close bipolar eyes for a moment and imagine what your life would be like if there was no facebook. Your niece couldn’t send updates about her dog’s ongoing herpes simplex condition. Your brother couldn’t tag you pictures of his date he met through cougarlife.com. Now take a deep breath and let this newfound and hopeless reality set in. What would you do with yourself and your time? You may have to find yourself a new hobby. You may have to stop texting your cougar and call legendary musician Steve Tracy for guitar lessons.
Steve Tracy may not be a household name, but his impressive career has spanned over a half of a century. He’s played with some of the greatest musicians of all time. During his peak, when acid was ingested as much as 5 hour energy drinks and peace, love, and insanity were as far as the eye could see, he’s graced the stage with Sammy Hagar, Norman Greenbaum, and Sly and the Family Stone. He was backstage at the Fillmore West when Janis Joplin plugged up the toilet with her massive shits. He was in the studio waiting for Sly Stone to stop smoking angel dust in his Rolls Royce, so they could start recording. He’s been on stage in front of thousands and thousands of people and no feeling in the world could compare to this. Now, he’s passing on his gift to those who are devoted and willing to learn. He’s encouraging students, young and old, to get the hell off of facebook and fuel your soul with the immaculate sounds of the guitar.
Music is everything to him. He says, “The thing about music is it’s truthful, where life cannot so be truthful.” Whatever you put into it, you get out of it. This glorious instrument can’t lie to you, but you simply must be in it for the love of music. There have been plenty of extremely talented musicians that have never made the “big time.” Never let this discourage you. Never. You must keep playing obsessively. Keep following your dreams. Keep feeding your soul with life.
Steve’s guitar style exceeds genres. He can teach you anything from country to r&b. He can even teach vocals and he has been since the mid 70s. He’s an astounding person and dedicated to passing on his knowledge, his passion for music. These lessons don’t just last a few updates, they will last for an entire lifetime. So will your niece’s dog’s herpes, but no one gives even a partial dingleberry sandwich about this. Your only source of happiness during these desperate times is Steve Tracy. Do yourself a favor and give him a call.
(805)543-0885