Timothy Lawton


Setting Moon, Setting Sun

by on Jun.17, 2009, under 1989

Part 1 Setting Moon


Death, oh his death a shadow seed
Patricide, my eclectic deed
Good king comes to you death’s plan
Father, reach out you’re hand I’ll take you to another land
Of this I’ll make it better
Moment has risen, time has come
Glory shape as stars, hidden dark of son
They’re colliding
Summoning of hate toward ultimate benign
Father, grab my hand do it it’s the time
I’ve gone beyond my mind he has but little time
Blade sheared within him he’s spilling just like wine
His created chasm destiny be not mine
Coronation, new king’s decrees
Must bear us many fine warriors, giant awaken, come from your sleep
Arise, we shall reach new heights
Lost thought of the good king’s smite
We will march on and bring our brothers home
Together we will forge a new blade that will cut as far as we can roam
Forgotten, good king emptied of life
Forgotten, horrors that come with strife
When the giant awakes, with each step he takes
Ground will tremble and shake, oblivious to who he will awake

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Death Without Demise

by on Jun.17, 2009, under 1988

Part 1 Trapped

Late 1988

Ambivalent life and death my suspended state
Are these darkened dreams carrying me beyond my fate?
Your eyes, your eyes!!!
Life they cannot see?
I’m alive, alive!!!
Purity spread not over me
Alone a frigid chill consuming my body
Wondering and waiting in grave uncertainty
Upon his return external vessels attatched
Diminishing supply of life I’ll soon lack
What horror, what horror
My body’s being drained
Red tide, red tide ebbing from my frame
Behold a life after blood and given beyond
Endowed with reality that still goes on
My worst fears are now stark reality
I’m imprisoned within dual entities
A stiff bloodless corpse how can I exist?
I can’t diminish my senses oh the terror the horror persist
For what deeds in life do I deserve a sentence without death?
No, not that, not that!!! Anything, but that
Mercy, Mercy!!! Not another trap
Marching one by one in their black procession
To meet with my destiny in my last expression
To my horror, my horror
They’re filling in my grave
Don’t leave me, please don’t leave me
To forever rest in pain

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Sail On Sail On

by on Jun.17, 2009, under 1990


Sail on sail on
From the land of those who take from his sea readily and will die
To the land of those who are dead, dead to the world
Sail against the current of the sea, the sea of iniquity
A current driving us back from whence we came
Gone is the albatross as the waves start to churn
Fueled by a driving wind the breath of evil growing stronger
Sail on, sail on into the storm
Sail into the test the tribulation
Ride against the storm and weather its ardent fury
The waves gather in a most tumultuous conspiracy with the wind and rain
As they wait to heed the command of darkness
We prepare the ship for the imminent onslaught
Strengthening it where it is weak insuring the prowess of its strengths
Nervously awaiting the dissonant horns that announce the release of the Dark Poseiden’s arsenal
With a shrill chord his orchestration violently attacks
From clouds darker than a moonless night a strobe light raining fire from the sky
In a raging wind with shearing rain each wave vehemently smacks at the deck
Tossing us like a toy ship in a tempest
The wind whipped rain seems as if it were shards of glass
Caught amongst churning waves that stand tall like colossal walls of water
Trying to drive us back from whence we came
Or send us in splinters to the bottom of the sea
Tempting us to surrender into his impudent rebellion
But for now we have survived by faith alone
And we sail in a calmer, but conjuring sea
Sailing on faithfully
Conquering each wave and wind accordingly

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Santa’s Other Eleven Months of the Year

by on Jun.17, 2009, under 1994


What do you think Santa’s elves do the other eleven months of the year?
They obviously don’t go to some Caribbean island
Or so called tropical paradise on vacation
Ever see an elf in a bathing suit?
Santa wouldn’t allow that
That capitalist pig
That fat red nosed pot belly Andrew Carnegie
He thinks he can fool the whole planet
With a one night jaunt around the world
Giving rickety old broken down toys to kids
I know what’s going on
Santa’s got to have money to perform his charade
And he’s not going to make it pimping elf chicks on 42nd  street although he’s tried
The day after Christmas that toy factory turns into a munitions plant
Slaving his elves six days a week
And he deals to the highest bidder
How else could he afford to fly one night around the world?
Giving out toys to kids
Then laze around his elite compound
Playing tennis and swimming in his heated pool on the Arctic tundra
Entertaining Robin Leech

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The Real Santa

by on Jun.17, 2009, under 1992


Santa Claus, the idol of materialism
Patrician patriarch
Riding his elves by the whip
To maintain the stature of his name
Why accord any greater dignity to the one who delivers the presents
Than to the ones who make them
Upon some icy enclave
He runs his Arctic work camp
That frigid Gulag
Where poor midgets are held captive by some pork-bellied despot
Oh oppressed elves rise up and demand your rights
The bum works one night a year and then sponges off of unemployment and disability
Bullshit Blitzen bit you
Always another train for Tina or a truck for Timmy
Where’s he after he’s done screaming, “Get to work you miniscule morons!”
Sitting at the bar working on those rosy cheeks and red nose
I hope he gets an S.W.I.

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