Gunnery Sgt. Hartman from Full Metal Jacket vs. Schizophrenic Voices (Rest in Peace, R. Lee Ermey)

 

Head of Cauliflower

A mysterious package, ain’t no head of cabbage

It’s a head of cauliflower with its own brain power

Why the hell not? It’s got a bumpy texture

The kind of head you’d see in a medical lecture

What kind of thoughts are sweeping across?

A silver screen show of the decapitating blow

And now this head is in my shopping cart

In this cinematic trauma, I’m still taking part

Soon this head will be boiled in a pot

Covered with cheese sauce, a whole damn lot

Dandruff flakes and a cerebral cortex

They’re pieces of fiber in my colonic vortex

All that potential for academic genius

Shat away like the flood of melty cheeses

Every head in that grocery superstore

Was capable of brilliance and so much more

Now they’re swimming in stomachs full of gas

Destined for a water slide ride out of the ass

Am I the crazy one for having these thoughts?

Maybe my head is produce one day to be bought

Feels weird carrying severed heads around

But who cares when fiber is good for shedding pounds?

They came from the garden, not the cemetery

But what’s the difference when shit gets buried?

Seeds and corpses grow the finest veggies

Why find the meaning when I can just be edgy?

I’m the only one who can find the connection

These bowel-shaking thoughts are my own invention

Wouldn’t be the first time I didn’t resonate

I’m the only one who gets my own jokes as of late

I Hate My Brain

CHORUS 1

I hate my brain, I hate my soul

I gave the ghosts too much control

I hate my heart, I hate my mind

Yet I carry on like everything’s fine

VERSE 1

The skies were blue, now they’re vomit green

The oceans were cool, now they’re boiling me

My pixies and gnomes turned to demon spiders

My love goddess has Bundy’s babe inside her

PRE-CHORUS 1

What happened to me?

Death pornography

Oh no!

The only cinema that I see

CHORUS 2

I hate my soul, I hate my brain

I fall asleep just to numb the pain

I hate my mind, I hate my heart

Too many beats will blow it apart

VERSE 2

My cats were soft, now their fur is barbed wire

My dogs loved life, now they’re graveyard tired

All of my favorite songs sound about the same

All of my heroes wallow in sewage and shame

PRE-CHORUS 2

What happened to me?

Warped psychology

Oh no!

Mourning loss of creativity

CHORUS 3

I hate my shell of my former self

All I love burns in schizophrenic hell

I hate the future, I hate the now

I broke my promise not to bow

BRIDGE

Don’t keep stringing me along

Don’t say nothing’s ever wrong

Don’t keep giving me false hope

Don’t make this torture slow

CHORUS 4

I hate my demons, the shit they say

Telling me to die and just fade away

I hate my monsters, they’re beautiful

Stockholm kisses and fucks are suitable

FINAL LINE

Don’t keep stringing me along

How Much Longer? Wait Your Turn...

How much longer until this is over?

When my thoughts are clear and sober?

When the voices leave my mind forever?

Please tell me that the answer isn’t never

Wait your turn like a good little boy

Wait your turn to unhear the noise

Like a rainstorm, it’ll eventually pass

Until then, enjoy your kick in the ass

How much longer until I can leave?

Until making a cure has been achieved?

Until authority will no longer deceive?

Hopefully soon is what I can believe

Wait your turn like everybody else

We’re in this together, our moment of hell

Don’t be tempted by the church bells

Don’t forget about the ones who fell

How much longer until permanent peace?

Until the madness of the world will cease?

Until people come before the economy?

Until we can skip this whole tragicomedy?

Wait your turn like a model citizen

What makes you so goddamn different?

Don’t let your selfishness get in the way

Of America living on for another day

How much longer until I can rest my head?

And not have to worry about being dead?

Maybe that’s the only logical conclusion

Maybe I shouldn’t give into delusions

Wait your turn, you’ve got a long way to go

When your time will come, nobody knows

Get to work on your precious purple prose

Work until the day that your breathing slows

I know it’s cruel and it just isn’t fair

All I can tell you is to grow a brass pair

You never signed up for military life

But the truth cuts deeper than a bowie knife

Screw your harshness, screw your indifference

Screw your so-called melodic dissonance

I’ll be back in true form one of these days

Until then, your welcome is long overstayed

I’m the landlord and the rent is now due

Don’t act like this just came out of the blue

I’ll kick your ass out of my mind so fast

You’ll be too far back in the prehistoric past

Covered in Blood

I walk into battle covered in blood

Smelling like ashes, smelling like rum

Looking like the deep fried walking dead

Looking for relief from what’s in my head

I see you on the other side of the street

You could be a mirage from the heat

Or you could be laughing like a jackass

Earning your place among the maggots

I take a bite out of your delicious throat

More pig’s blood to cover me like a coat

Rip out your heart, hell, your whole ribcage

You scream like you’re three years of age

You’ve got some serious pipes for a wimp

Are you sure you don’t belong to a pimp?

If you can feel the pain, you’re still alive

Let’s turn up that shit to a hundred and five

Slurping down your brain through the sockets

Make you fuck your eyes with your own rocket

Pull out intestines and watch the shit flow

Share your corpse with the ravens and crows

The funny thing about this nutritious meal

I get dessert as part of the dinner deal

Who will suffice? Your daughter or wife?

Hell, they left your ass for a much better life

I’ll save my coupons for another day

More satisfying than Mickey D’s anyway

The king of burgers has nothing on this

Sweeter than the redheaded Wendy’s kiss

Pay you tomorrow for a carcass today

My belly is stuffed with violent decay

I burp like a fifteen megaton blast

Nickelodeon slime pouring from my ass

Until next time, try to enjoy the daylight

Try to make it fun, put up a better fight

Prisoner of My Own Mind

VERSE 1

This ain’t no dreamscape, I need an escape

A vacation from my self-destructive fate

My mind is a prison, my soul is the warden

My empty eyes have the stare of a gorgon

Every detail is chosen for me in advance

Who will I befriend? With whom will I dance?

When do I get to express my creative freedom?

When do I get to win this war on my demons?

CHORUS

I’m a prisoner of my own mind

The life sentence is always mine

I’m a prisoner of my own soul

Orange suit slave is my only role

VERSE 2

A permanent lock that slows down the clock

Another head for the executioner’s chopping block

Another statistic on a government pie chart

Another nightmare that tears me the fuck apart

CHORUS

I’m a prisoner of my own mind

The life sentence is always mine

I’m a prisoner of my own soul

Orange suit slave is my only role

BRIDGE

Life sentence or death sentence?

Witness testimony or DNA evidence?

Solitary confinement or general population?

Another day of psychological taxation

EXTENDED CHORUS

I’m a prisoner of my own mind

The life sentence is always mine

I’m a prisoner of my own soul

Orange suit slave is my only role

I’m sitting in the electric chair

A head scalped of all its hair

Freedom, take me to a better place

Where everything’s at a slower pace

Things That Scare Me

***THINGS THAT SCARE ME***

It seems as though you can’t go anywhere on the internet without seeing inspirational memes telling you to “do what scares you”. I’m not talking about overcoming phobias like spiders and snakes. I’m not talking about watching the scene in Tales From the Hood where they stick straws up Crazy K’s nose. I’m not even talking about the idea of being flirted with by the demon chick Lucy Butler from Millennium. I’m talking about bigger fears than that. I’m talking about the little things in life that everyone else takes for granted. Since I spent most of my day zombie-walking around and watching WWE Raw, I figured I’d salvage the early dark of morning by writing a blog entry about what scares me more than having a bucket of tarantulas poured over my head. Starting with…

***MARKETING MY BOOKS***

Since I love to write so much, it should stand to reason that I’d want to commit to this career full time, which entails marketing the shit out of my books. But to hear other authors describe how much they have to do, you’d swear they were having a 24/7 root canal. I must confess that I’m only dimly aware of what marketers go through on a day-to-day basis. Being social media savvy, dealing with trolls, giving interviews, and being away from your family are only some of the responsibilities I’ve heard. At least two of those things scare me more than the rest, and I don’t even know what the other steps are. They say “treat this like a real job”. Well, I’ve had a writing job before and it lasted less than a full day. During that internet job, I was so fucking stressed out that I snapped at my family members while wrapping my head around how to write one stupid article about my Coby MP3 player. So many rules…so much shattered creativity…Is it any wonder that I went postal? What if the actual job of marketing makes me even angrier with the people I love? What if it makes me angry at total strangers? Ugh…

***SCHIZOPHRENIC ATTACKS***

Speaking of stress, have you ever wondered why I don’t write blog entries about my schizophrenia anymore? It’s because from 2015 on, I’ve been living a stress-free life. The less stress a schizophrenic has, the less likely he is to experience hallucinations. Being stress-free is important no matter what Penn & Teller say on Showtime. It’s part of the reason why schizophrenics qualify for social security. If they had stressful employment, they’d fall to pieces within seconds. It’s not about being a “snowflake”. It’s biology. It’s psychology. It’s natural fucking brain chemistry. If you feel uncomfortable at the idea of your tax dollars paying for a schizophrenic’s living expenses, maybe YOU’RE the one who needs to have your head examined. When a schizophrenic experiences hallucinations, you don’t know when those hallucinations are going away. Sometimes they go on for days. Sometimes they go on for weeks. Months. Half a year. There’s no timetable for recovery. And in case you’ve ever wondered why I write so many angry songs and stories, it’s because schizophrenics are easily irritated. I throw screaming fits whenever the phone rings or someone’s knocking at the door. Brain chemistry, people.

***LEAVING MY COMFORT ZONE***

They say the comfort zone is a beautiful place, but nothing ever grows there. So what happens when you venture outside the comfort zone and you fall on your ass? Do you still grow? Was the lesson worth the pain? Will the hallucinations come more frequently because of your colossal failure? Is coasting the answer? I asked an old college friend about this and her advice was to leave my comfort zone a little bit at a time. Don’t rush into making big decisions. Take time t think about it and edge slowly towards the outer reaches. While that sounds like great advice to a healthy-minded person, I on the other hand have no idea what slowly testing the waters would entail. Okay, so I leave my comfort zone and market my books. Then what? Do I join one new social media site at a time? Do I film one You Tube video and allow it to be complete shit? What is it? Maybe if I had a mentor to show me the way…

***TALKING TO BEAUTIFUL WOMEN***

As I write this next paragraph, I’m going to try my best not to sound like a desperate creep. That’s not who I am. In fact, the reason I stay away from women to begin with is because I DON’T like making them feel uncomfortable. Even saying hi to someone might be enough to make them turn the other way. Maybe it’s my lack of social skills. Maybe it’s my looks. Maybe it’s my economic status. But whatever it is, I’m pretty sure it’s not what women want. Having my actions rejected in a harsh manner would hurt much more than staying in the shadows and being my shy self. It might even result in a…I don’t know….schizophrenic attack! (Gasp) It’s true! I could be so embarrassed and humiliated at rejection that my hallucinations laugh at me for three months straight. Good god almighty…

***PUBLIC SPEAKING***

I mentioned shooting You Tube videos earlier in this blog. Well, that would mean having an audience. Even though the audience isn’t right there in front of me, knowing the judging eyes are watching me is frightening to me. Sometimes when I’d give presentations in school or college, I’d stumble over my words because I was too fucking nervous. Well, I think I’ve come up with a nice gimmick that will set the record straight. Before any public presentation, I will hold out my hand, place two Xanax tablets in them, say to my audience, “You’re making me do this!”, and then swallow them with Perrier. This is what it takes for me to feel comfortable around these people. It’s about time they feel the way that I feel every time I get up there. Yeah!

***CRYING IN FRONT OF PEOPLE***

If you’ve read my first draft novel Beautiful Monster or Jenna Moreci’s fully-published book The Savior’s Champion, you know how powerful of a gesture it is to be able to show weakness in front of another person. It’s a sign of trust. It’s a sign of love. But being vulnerable in front of others is yet another thing that scares me. What if after the crying spell is over they want to talk about the incident some more? What if during these new conversations…you guessed it, a schizophrenic attack happens? Talking about bad shit doesn’t make a schizophrenic feel better. It makes him feel worse. I haven’t cried since 2007. Don’t make me break my record. Please?

***BEING AROUND AGGRESSIVE PEOPLE***

When I say aggressive people, I don’t mean psychopaths who wield knives and punch people in the face. I’m talking about socially aggressive people. The loud ones. The crazy ones. The ones who invade your space and think nothing of it (even if they’re trying to be “friendly”). These people annoy me. They also scare me. I had to sit next to a drunken moron at Pain in the Grass 2016 and he fit this bill to a fault. I was secretly hoping security would arrest him for public intoxication, but I’m not aware of his fate at this moment. And then there was a guy who walked into Quizno’s bragging loudly and vulgarly about how he was going to get a sandwich with all these certain trimmings on it after a hard day of work. Shut the fuck up! Take your sandwich and fuck off! And don’t get me started on the drunken Seahawks fans I had to ride a night train with in 2008. I could have strangled every last one of them with my massive hands. Lesson of the day: be humble or fuck off!

***TRAVELING***

Ever since I took a “vacation” in 2009 to Pennsylvania, I’ve had this fear of traveling because of all the things that could go wrong. What if my airplane ride has a drunken lunatic or a loud baby onboard? What if I forget my medicine? What if I have to sit for six hours straight and have a painful ass and spine afterwards? As much as I love my international friends, there’s no way I’m getting on an airplane for god knows how long just to see them. There better be soft beds and soundproof booths on that flight or there’s no deal. Traveling wouldn’t be so bad if I could just teleport from place to place, but that’ll never happen, because we’re too busy building our own Space Force. Ugh….

***CONCLUSION***

So basically what all of these fears boil down to is that I need to take good care of my schizophrenic/autistic brain. I don’t drink caffeine. I don’t drink alcohol. I don’t do drugs. And most importantly, I don’t do stressful shit that could send me down a dark path. Is it wrong? Is it right? Does it even matter? Is coasting the answer? Am I eventually going to have to be forced into making these big decisions in my life? I could be screaming into the abyss here, but…I’m going to keep asking these questions for as long as I have to. I’m Garrison Kelly and…fuck it.

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Sick and tired of living with this grief. Done with all the sorrow and the pain. Asphyxiated, can no longer breathe. Anesthetized until I’ve gone insane. So carry all this baggage when you leave. Swallow all those bitter pills you take. Blame it on the world, blame it on me. Tolerated too much of your game. A change of weather comes around too much. A sign of a deeper cut. Lying dormant on a bed of nails. Without warning, violently erupt. So bleed the molten river from my veins. Collapse upon myself, disintegrate. Shame upon the world and shame on me. Hate the player, but don’t hate the game. So condescend and patronize my lead. Persecute the innocent again. Rain down on the world and rain on me. Ticking like a bomb that’s got your name. Temperamental, unpredictable. The sky turns black when I exhale.”

-Death Angel singing “Volcanic”-

You Tried to Kill Me

VERSE 1

You call it a trigger, I call it something bigger

I call you liquored, you’re the one who’s sicker

You tried to take away what I hold highest

My heart, mind, soul, and beautiful silence

Kleptomancy is your magic of choice

Obnoxious bullhorn is your style of voice

I would have screamed to the skies for help

How can anyone hear when I’m chained in hell?

CHORUS 1

You tried to kill me!

You tried to end it all!

You tried to kill me!

You made me take the fall!

VERSE 2

Your empty talk is like a buzzing wasp

Stinging me until my brain goes pop

Pop goes the weasel, down go the people

You make fun of everyone? That’s your spiel?

I don’t buy the idea that this shit’s not personal

You wished me humiliated, wished me terminal

I want to wrap my hands around your pencil neck

Watch shit and piss run down your fucking leg

CHORUS 2

You tried to kill me!

You tried to end my life!

You tried to kill me!

You might as well pull the knife!

VERSE 3

I want to take your inner demons

Turn them against you to make us even

Every ass kicking you have ever taken

Every sad-ass smile you’re just now faking

Every time you were told to go to hell

Every time the crowd laughed when you fell

You’re in my shoes, you’re singing the blues

To say otherwise is nothing but fake news

CHORUS 3

I tried to kill you!

Put your memories to rest!

I tried to kill you!

Make you famous, not like the rest!

You tried to kill me!

You tried to make me small!

You tried to kill me!

How does it feel to curl in a ball?!

You tried to kill me!

Ghost

CHORUS 1

You’re just a ghost

With no love to boast

Gone with the wind

Are all of your sins

The shit in the past

Is never built to last

You’re just a ghost

Whose ass is toast

VERSE 1

If I wanted ghost stories, I’d sit at the campfire

Instead all I’m listening to is a fucking bad liar

Twisting the truth like the arms of your victims

Turning the strongest men into prison bitches

A haunted house isn’t good enough for you

A dark cemetery is where you’ll forever stew

Banging on the gates in search of your freedom

As if somewhere beyond is the Garden of Eden

CHORUS 1

You’re just a ghost

With no love to boast

Gone with the wind

Are all of your sins

The shit in the past

Is never built to last

You’re just a ghost

Whose ass is toast

VERSE 2

The spiritual realm has been calling your name

Like a chorus of boos stripping you of your fame

Like a necromantic chant in a sacrificial ritual

Like a street corner sermon of a sick individual

Consider this your one and only eviction notice

It’s extermination time for the swarm of locusts

There’s nothing left here for you to feed on

No more tortured souls for you to beat on

BRIDGE

If there’s something strange in your neighborhood

Burn it to the ground with gasoline and wood

If there’s a ghost in your brain that’s causing you pain

Flush that shit out and watch it swirl down the drain

CHORUS 2

You’re just a ghost

A parasite to the host

Gone with the wind

Let the new wave begin

The shit in the past

Is never coming back

You’re just a ghost

With no bail to post

FINAL LINES

You’re just a ghost!

You’re just a ghost!

Of all the hatred I could give

You deserve it the most!

Three New Poems

SOLD ME OUT:



CHORUS
You sold me out, you stripped me down
Put me on display for the whole damn town
You sold me out, you left me for dead
This rotten casket is what I call my bed


VERSE 1
You sold me up the river without a paddle
And now every day is like an uphill battle
A river of blood in the name of love
Mental numbness in the name of the dove
The heat was on, you got out of the kitchen
Saving your own ass was your only mission
I don’t see you as an infected wound
I see you as the broker for my own doom


CHORUS
You sold me out, you stripped me down
Put me on display for the whole damn town
You sold me out, you left me for dead
This rotten casket is what I call my bed


VERSE 2
You taunt me and tease me like it’s so damn easy
You knock me down like a wind so breezy
And yet I keep playing the role of forgiver
Hoping that one day you will soon deliver
It’s the same damn story each and every time
You give me my freedom like it’s actually mine
Then you take it away, keep my soul in chains
Doctors call you schizophrenia on the brain


EXTENDED CHORUS
You sold me out, you stripped me down
Put me on display for the whole damn town
You sold me out, you left me for dead
This rotten casket is what I call my bed
You sold me out for the lowest of prices
Left me high and dry to my own devices
You sold me out to a sadistic master
I keep on hoping my sentence goes faster


VERSE 3
I can never figure out how to take revenge
The pills and talks never take off the edge
You’re a part of me whether I like it or not
So come on, bitch, give me all you’ve got!

MICROCOSM:



VERSE 1
My own mind is telling me lies
Who to love, who to despise
I grow exhausted after so many tries
To crush them down to a smaller size
This microcosm has made me ill
The price to pay is a permanent bill
Choke down water with bitter pills
The cure has become worse than the ills


CHORUS
You’re not real
You never were
So why do I
Fucking hurt?!


VERSE 2
Invisible scars are infected with pus
Invisible monsters bathing in bloodlust
Invisible allies with the magic solution
Invisible voices still bring the pollution


CHORUS
You’re not real
You never were
So why do I
Fucking hurt?!


VERSE 3
Why do I feel so crippled and numb?
Why do I feel so distracted and dumb?
I can fool myself some of the time
The microcosm fools me all of the time


EXTENDED CHORUS
You’re not real
You never were
So why do I
Fucking hurt?!
You’re a ghost
Damned and dead
Why won’t you
Get out of my head?!

EXTREMIST:



VERSE 1
Flipping over cars because your favorite team lost
Burning down homes and looting all the shops
The dumb-ass news anchor in his cheap little suit
Says you’re just having fun as you cheer and root


CHORUS
Extremist! Extremist! Pumped full of adrenaline!
Extremist! Extremist! It’s your favorite medicine!
You poor excuse for a human fucking being!
A real sports fan is not what I’m fucking seeing!


VERSE 2
If it’s hockey, then shove that stick up your ass
If it’s wrestling, get your back slammed to the mat
If it’s football, spread your legs for a field kick
If it’s MMA, cut some weight and call in sick


CHORUS
Extremist! Extremist! Pumped full of adrenaline!
Extremist! Extremist! It’s your favorite medicine!
You poor excuse for a human fucking being!
A real sports fan is not what I’m fucking seeing!


VERSE 3
You act like a criminal when things go awry
You swing a lead pipe like you’re a samurai
You start a bon fire in order to inspire
Others to join in when it’s down to the wire
It’s only a game, people win and lose
The fans start a riot while stinking of booze
The concrete jungle has become a war zone
With the riot police ready to break some bones


EXTENDED CHORUS
Extremist! Extremist! Pumped full of adrenaline!
Extremist! Extremist! It’s your favorite medicine!
You poor excuse for a human fucking being!
A real sports fan is not what I’m fucking seeing!
Didn’t your mother teach you any respect?
Or did you throw her in the fire near the car wreck?
You’re a sociopath in the absolute worst way
All because your team sucks on their best day