Sometimes I Think I Have Cancer

Part one is the breath of life
but he normally only comes out at night
just when his vessel is winding down
and turning out the lights.

He’s given up on making things,
he just lives within his created dreams
but can’t escape the longing
of sharing them on the screen.

So he builds up his database,
hoping one day to be showcased.
But there’s this constant chatter from the back
saying it’s all just a waste. 

But he doesn’t know how to do anything else
so he keeps lining up the shelves,
building a library
that only serves himself.

Part two is lost in the world outside.
He tries and tries but only backslides.
It’s like he doesn’t want to survive,
but doesn’t have the follow through to finish suicide.

He just wants to be left alone.
He talks to the TV and ignores the phone.
He stays within the safety zone
and never goes outside his home.

He watches the world from a screen
and turns it up to drown out his dreams.
He’s stuck somewhere in between
the way things actually are and the way they seem.

He is a walking shell,
trapped outside of himself,
and even though he knows this well
he can’t get up from where he fell.

This is three parts in one.
Personal Armageddon. 
Three shadows cast by the sun.
Altogether for zero sum.

Part three can only be an observer,
sending sparks which elicit concern,
drawing from the past and future
to teach things one and two could never learn.

It tries and tries to connect to its body
so its eyes could see what its mind sees,
but it’s viewed as a foreign energy
and rejected almost immediately. 

Slowly losing its connection,
becoming a pointless intuition
because the truth is at odds with it’s person
so he ignorantly refuses to listen.

It faithfully awaits a resurrection
or some spiritual intersection
that can repair the lost connection
and make the parts become one again.  



Trinity

The definitions evolve, the umbrella expands.
Are you a free-thinking woman or man?
Do you use feet to walk on the land?
Do you have one or two human hands?

If so, you may be a terrorist and most certainly, an enemy of the government,
breathing their air and sucking their tit,
puking on Facebook, spilling your shit
but not really doing a goddamn thing about it.

And I’m not preaching at you, I’m just talking out loud,
but if it stings, you know what I’m talking about.
And I’m sure this doctrine couldn’t draw a crowd
because we can’t peel away from the virtual cloud.

But if we could unplug to truly connect,
the sparks would fly when we intersect.
But that shit hasn’t happened yet,
we just keep mashing the keyboards, being politically correct.

But the labels already have us defined,
already deemed us guilty for future crimes,
already assigned numbers in the fema camp lines,
collecting data to use in time.

You’re a terrorist just like me.
Judgement day is coming for the land of the free.
And we will be all we can be
Unified in our animosity.

THIS CRY CANT BE IGNORED
SALUTES TRANSFORM TO FISTS
DRAFTED INTO A WAR
DOMESTIC TERRORISTS

You’re a target, waiting to happen,
building your own cage to be trapped in
where you wait for the state-sponsored kidnapping 
to review the book of life they have you tracked in.

Till then, you can rest within the lie
that there is no all seeing eye
and those people are crazy who say otherwise 
because there’s no way my government is the bad guys.

It does no good to have morals when the system’s perverse. 
We are at the breaking point of a generational curse,
Anxiously waiting on who is going to shoot first.
You can call yourself a patriot but that only makes it worse. 

Your red, white and blue screams Stockholms syndrome. 
The line has already been drawn and you are not one of them.
It’s time we started living up to their implied definitions.
If we all stand up for what is right, the terrorists win.

THIS CRY CANT BE IGNORED
SALUTES TRANSFORM TO FISTS
DRAFTED INTO A WAR
DOMESTIC TERRORISTS

TIME TO SETTLE THE SCORE
WE’RE ALL ON THE HIT LISTS
YOU’RE EITHER A STATIST WHORE
OR A DOMESTIC TERRORIST

I know this is not what you would choose.
Convenience rarely follows truth.
It’s happening whether or not you want it to.
The delicate seams are coming unglued.

Seventeen-Seventy-Six will rise again,
bringing a new American Revolution.
The annihilation of a system
that creates justified terrorism.

Believers will call it prophecy,
but nothing about this is holy.
This is the design of humanity,
the worst of nature’s monstrosities.

The part you’ll play has already been picked.
You’ve been quietly nurtured and prepared for this.
You can play ignorant but that won’t dismiss
that you’re already a terrorist.

And when you hear the explosions outside your house,
banging on doors and kicking them down,
forcefully escorting families out
and making them lie face down on the ground.

And you’ve heard of talks about this before
but you cannot really be sure.
Is that actually happening?
This can’t really be happening. 


Terrorist

There’s a dollhouse in the basement
where diverse characters play.
They’ve all found meaning in their place
and know of no other way.
There’s theories of creatures living above
 but no one can really say.  
They allowed the walls to divide them,
then decided where to stay.

They bicker over petty lies
instead of looking for the truth,
Abiding by fictitious lines,
living under one roof. 
This is their house to define 
and this is what they choose?!
Why are they working against each other?
Everyone will lose.

They’re gonna burn it down.

They’ve torn into the insulation 
to make things that serve no need,
And they pass the things back and forth
and think ‘this is what it is to succeed.’
And they’ve forgotten to look out the window
and wonder what’s beyond what they see. 
They blindly offer worship
to anyone arrogant enough to lead.

It’s become a fight for the master bedroom
And everyone wants in.
Some say they should just lock the door
and everybody wins.
But others argue that
everyone loses with socialism.
So no one really trusts anyone,
They just do their best impression.

They’ve made kings out of jesters
with meaningless crowns.
They vilify philosophers
and line up to praise clowns.
They silence anyone
who makes logical sounds.
They’ve lit fires in every corner
and they’re gonna burn it down. 



Dollhouse

The Heartbeat

The Last Time (featuring Tarantino)

James Sirois, with Critical Thinking Is Required, discusses a wide array of topics with Durden Godfrey. 

Critical Thinking Is Required (Discussion)

Durden Godfrey discusses the blessing and the curse that is being an (cringe) 'artist.'

Produced By Chad Hendricks

The Blessing And Curse That Is Filmmaking

Sound the alarm, it’s time to wake
To the American dream, to go seize the day.
Iron your suit and make up your face,
Strap on your boots and hit the rat race.

Dont think too much about what’s going on
Or you might find that everything’s all wrong.
Just keep pressing on, it wont be long
Before you start all over when a new day comes.

But if you stop  and think, ‘what is this for?
‘How are the points obtained and who’s keeping score?
If we all are humans, then why is there war?
How can we have it all and still want more?’

It seems so easy when you scale it all down
But we fucked everything up some how
And it seems there’s no way to turn it around
When events unfold at the speed of sound.

And OH! 
How about this life we made?
Can we take credit?
OH!
Is this our doing?
There seems like there’s something more...
Are we just the pawns in something sinister?

Is there anyone out there that feels the same?
Come on, help me feel a little less insane.
We say ‘we know’ but keep playing the game,
Repeating the same mistakes, expecting things to change.

And it feels impossible to find inclusion 
Within the grid of our collective seclusion 
So we make a bed out of our wasted solution
And fall asleep until the conclusion.

And OH! 
How about this life we made?
Can we take credit?
OH!
Is this our doing?
There seems like there’s something more...
Are we just the pawns in something sinister?


Collective Seclusion

Oliver and Dave are leaving society to survive in the wilderness. 
Oliver explains why.

http://NeverGoBack.us
http://GoFundMe.com/NeverGoBack 

DurdenGodfrey

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