Sound the horns before the crash of the drums,
Reign forever the promise,
only as long as does not perturbe the ageless splendor of it's denial.
The angry man is vain in his resentment of luxury as he toils,
and so he proceeds in vain of his resentment.
The happy man is foolish in his love of life, forgotten to that horrible heaping part of himself,
sprawled with constricting joints and bleeding that blood,
Pay he luck not to remember.
Always eager was accepted by the Earth.

Always downward impress the power and cascading mountains of the horizon.
Ever so that the dwindling height impresses the speck at the edge of it's microscopic lense.
From what pestle were ground these grains of what the body shivers to behold?
From what tree was made sacrifice and ripped the shreds of this beautiful scenery?
From what point does the needle steer it's compass,
Pulsates the ebb of the magma of power.

The excretions of raw turmoil brews,
Below the vats of anamorphic hell was raised,
And up was risen low on high and behold that it was seen.
The slumber had encroached upon itself,
Flitting it's tail at the flies and leftovers of the night.
The spoils of day at hand make clear the path of the arm.
I am stretched about it's expanse and yearn the pangs of inward loss.
The melting hot aftermath boils my blood dark and red,
I am ready to sanctify these old bones with new fire.
I lurch my eyes upon the stocks and bundles,
I am in love.

Flesh loathes the indulgence of the mind,
masked in the light by its submission.
I have made acquaintance with the tonic of breath upon the bellows of breast,
I met the waves that mirror this and thine.
Well met are they, and I said that it was good!
To the heavens which impress me impress myself!
Know my mind you manifold of high towers!
Know me that lightning had stricken the chapels of your Kingdom, my name in blazing stars.
Know my name to the inextricable folds of your searching rebuttal.
And behold my pride,
erected there with bricks I would bet against mountains.
Was my blood so bold to creep back whence it came?
If not so, then was made slave to my own boldness.
So there it was,
and so wept the Earth for a thousand years.

Tears falter to the sun, and my cheek is dry.
You know me, but what are you hiding?
Amongst the flags of nations the sweat of day unfurled,
There in the depths must be hidden.
Feed me or be refused the exhilaration of my tongue.
Set loose the fruit into my view,
I will do the rest.
Having filled my bucket of what belongs to me, harken to my plea for more,
To the adoption of my whimsy,
flicking fast the worm of yesterday.
I had worms in my thin stomach.
Aside it, the froth of snails had savored,
molding the lowest of all my opinion.
Better is the least of my gripes,
entrust me this day or all days hence I will mock you.
The threat twas modest now cast into hard metal for the shackles of a generation of tender feet.
What had inspired now falters,
I can weep no more.

With a shimmering corona of the dark coiling fog,
she glides through the shadows
with haunting songs,
sad but sweet.

I never knew a heart could bend
so far without breaking.

You never knew love
without indiscriminate taking.

We are what myths
strive to be.

A lovers’ journey
dissolved to
valiant tragedy.

Leafs of paper fell against an autumn-destined sun; words flew through the blind eyes of an anticipating one.
Cars blew smoke in curls, across the still-wet grass, to wrench away a single soul who couldn’t help but pass.
Sun’s up by sun’s down as dawn turned into dusk, awaiting time to sleep, while the moon held its bright husk.
Remembering their way through an ever-changing path, it wasn’t hard to worry for the cold street’s twisted wrath.
A figure in the distance, hope hid but a flame. They walked and met each other’s eyes on the cold, dark, silent plain.

To each rebirth I command myself to undertake,
the closer I become to being a Higher Power, further from being a Muse,
those unable to do the same, it’s alright
to
name
&
shame.
The weak is here to justify the strong,
for most will read & dismiss it as arrogant ego, rather than a self-validating poet,
living in freedom.
Let us party hard, let us party all night, the love of sacrifice is
at the base
of the shrine, profit thrives on stupidity, shown most highlighted in trends
& forefront of subcultures, delusionary revolutions,
the world changes according to the change of the individual,
too bad ignorance isn’t painful,
for
I crave original thinking,
it is too bad I have wasted so much time,
on those who cannot even pull themselves to average,
you’re none to service.
Blessed are those who can destroy false hopes, illusions, trends, validation from others, dependance, angst & insecurity.
Freedom lays in thy hands.
(Heartache, don’t let it bring my heart down,
Jezebel bow your head in shame,
I am the light of illumination,
Mystical enhance my essence is, you phony,
you fake, I’m free, while your wrapped in children’s
attention. The sun rises in the east, at the Beast’s
discretion, than sets in the west, Babylon won’t
test. I’m free again, ruff & ready, you don’t know
what you're living for. Reaching replaceable average
is your best hope. Everything at your feet, still you’re
bitter, bored & sober, so you got nothing to do.
Forgetting suicide is painless)

We are the very essence of Ares and Aphrodite
A fighter, and a lover
I am Venus, bringer of peace
And her, Mars, bringer of war
We could never exist without each other
Yet we both want to,
Need to,
Desperately.
There is no peace without war.
There is war without peace.
Who am I to you?

He sat alone beneath the trees,
Beneath the starry skies.
He thought alone of what he's seen
and what it means to die

"Some are full of virtue.
Some are full of venom.
Some are somewhere in between and full of indecision.

Some die steady and slow.
Some die fast and loud.
Some die somewhere they can never earn a burial shroud.

Some are surrounded by people.
Some are surrounded by money.
Some have nothing of the like, surrounded by nobody.

And still they go alone,
Where living do not roam.
And go wherever they must go
To lands that are not known.

They speak of death with peace.
They speak of death with calm.
They speak of death knowing release
Will one day be the balm.
To all their grief, and all their pain,
Knowing they may never think and never be again.

But they all die the same
With nothing to their name"

Then the man beneath the trees,
Dressed in myth and legend,
Started off into the dark
To find the end made for him.

He walked alone beneath the trees,
Beneath those starry skies.
He faded into darkness deep
For even Death must die.