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Fight or Flight In the Presence of Logic.
Find your common ground of shedding blood
In the far lands of Else Where,
For here is not the place where bodies should
Fall just short of their own sweat and tears.
It is fear that is the beast you so portray,
And an agenda so immorally laced with false teachings.
Here lies the home, once ancient and grown,
Now rubble in the growing pile
Of humanities excrement.
Its epitaph shall read nothing,
For no words can be written
by the lack of knowledge per this land....
Look your land in its dying eyes,
Listen to its final breaths...
The billowing sands that blow
Erosion into its elderly face.
make your way to the place in which you slumber,
And allow your mind to bestow upon you
Nightmares that bring you to regret your chosen ways of sin,
and method of self-destruction.
Taken by so full of self,
The rotten husk now lies
Half buried in a partially cremated state...
Still a home for its dying cells
The soon to be carcass,
Awaiting the bills of hovering vultures
Lost in Only Fiction
In the cold dark beneath ominous clouds,
my only shelter is the hollow roof between myself and the sky.
Voices are heard in the applause of thunder.
The drops fall to make sounds of distant keys of a broken piano.
Chaotic, the anarchy is sinister music
to a lost mind I once called my own.
Bloodshot the eyes within swollen sockets that give
interior to a mask of contusions self-inflicted but not recalled.
My dreams are the children of King and Tarantino.
The eyes roll back over the wet interior,
seeing not but a void in where my mind once dwelled.
The gray matter works fine, only to make it's Frankenstein monster.
My pillars crumble and I fall into the flood beneath
sounds of distant piano keys...now I drown beneath
the sounds of thumping heart beats and muffled screams.
The clapping voices of the thunder are heckling boo's
as the curtains close mid-show. The show draws to a close
as the Frankenstein monster freezes as told in tale.
My happy ending never came, as it had only ever been i
The Book of Prophecies: The Pagan
His desires shall be those of a Higher influence.
His methods, unprecedented.
He shall bring about the demise of humans,
and the body count shall be of a great multitude.
His deeds shall bring to him,
the attention of the greatest Nephilim, Death.
He shall be feared, and undoubted in his ability.
His reasons are of Faith and vengeance...
Though his faith lies not in God,
But in the servants of such...
Decieved was he in his original conquest.
Forever scarred is his soul.
The Pagan is he,
a mercenary to both Angel and Demon...
Dreams on a Battlefield
Oh sweet sleep, take me away...
Away to the restless worlds
Of my subconscious wonderland.
Unhand me, reality...
let go and set me free.
From soul to psyche,
the visitation of my thoughts
To my warped imagination.
Where both angel and daemon,
Do visit me in my nightly coma
My memory fades from my grasp
with the cold sweat and opening of my eyes,
but I do know better as to the cause by effect.
my visitors wage war
within those restless lands.
As they are and have always been,
By dream or nightmare regardless am I
without doubt in the slightest,
intrigued by such evidence
and presence of the transcendent ones.
I know not the faces but the marks are left.
feathers in air, and hooves in earth.
Found in my perception,
blurred but far from blind,
They have long since fooled me...
2. Battery Low
Where else is there to turn,
When your own blood and flesh
are against you?
In the time when one must learn
to grow from being just another
pawn to just another cog.
In an existence of corrupted control,
where each monkey is too
often a slave to another.
Grown and flowing with
a virus of such hate,
the heated emotion has spread
over like the flames within itself.
The waves have come and gone
in this hellish marathon,
over turning almost every effort of advance.
So where else to turn
other than to the bones
that carry the burden of this virus?
How pitiful that the wingless apes
turn on one another rather
than relying on each other.
The foundation, covered like an
inside out tree trunk,
bearing the rings of weary age,
made thin for a coming layer of time.
This pathetic life laid out
across a once perfect foundation,
cut down, cracked and eroded.
Held up with shaky hands
and weak knees by
the exhausted machine,
It's screams are mute through
the blotted out voices of the people,
The very c
Older Than Babylon
I sat there, at the edge of the peak of the growing mountain,
seeking the patience I had always lacked.
My dreams were older than Babylon,
Yet in the time that is now, I age.
I had walked the dashed line unaware of where it may lead.
Even it knew not the future with each added dash.
The naivety I know, cannot be undone, for where lies the knowledge I unknowingly seek out?
The tangent of my life's journey, irrelevant to the road once laid before my soul.
It is in the sleepless nights that my dreams find me most maliciously...
interrogating me as to my lack of persistence and pursuit.
And in my screams of the loss of sanity,
shot out the words of accusation to that accursed dashed line.
For it had found it's end here at the edge of the peak of my growing mountain.
It grew into the abyss of a night sky, and ominous was my anticipation.
The stars that as a child I had wished upon were closer than ever,
and they burned bright with suspicion.
The Journey of a Thousand Miles
"Lead us on to insomnia's end, Where solitude awaits our weary hearts.
The sustenance required to our souls lies
there in the arms of patience.
Assist us in our wake as prayer affects not our tired limbs upon this journey. These two of your flock die not, as time heals, yet the end of this is welcome. We beg of thee, calling out to the silence into
to which our faith is placed.
The path is dark with black fog of this nocturnal threat. Bring to us, light. As it is now that our dreams are what wither with time, even as they heal. Our exhaustion is only diverted for a short time
by the bond between us.
Pray we that our cries are heard, echoing through the confines to Heaven.
Let not a limit come from malicious source,
to this our angelic breed of passion."
"Right is my love as he suffers my pain by connection, yet where we go, we go together.
Though distance dwindles the pleasure,
the connection has only become longer.
Much I have to say before our Lord in regards to these two hea
The Subconscious Strive
Challenge this opposition before you,
as the very Kingdom of Heaven is at your back.
What know you of the sight of victory,
should you not even attempt to seek it out?
Pull your head out and swallow the sand.
kick up the dust beneath the liquid layer,
swim against the tide, ascend and ride the wind,
Journey only forward, beyond the grasp of defeat.
Take us beyond the firefight,
to the brittle outskirts,
upon the horizon,
where lies our origin.
Within memory is our future,
where made easy
is the heavier weight of the burden.
Plant the seeds for the new battlefield.
Make it our own, by conquer, by incline.
Push forward through the storm,
the floods that make the seed grow,
as there is no progression without conflict.
I close my eyes only to see such nightmare in mind...
The world aflame and by my ears the crackling embers
reincarnated back into the dust of my world.
Recycled through the air now filled with
The exhausted gasp of Death himself.
Hope dies cradled in his weary arms,
and even he weeps from empty eye sockets.
Yet upon the burial was a seed planted,
and before the overflowing wells of his empty eyes,
grew life within the barren womb of Gaia.
Down from the Throne did He come,
barring a comforting hold over Death,
and the waters of life to nurse to health,
His world in the making to come.
Reborn and re united was to be our realm.
From ash did man come,
as will my world reborn before my very eyes.
As never a means to an end was this destruction.
A world reborn, one day my own, to share with my fellow kind.
I open my eyes, only to see the dreams of god come true at last.
Father GodI created people to need and love one another. That never changed, even when sin entered into the world. Yet in spite of my desire for loving harmony, families often make a mess of their relationship.
I warned David that his sin would cause problems within his family. Ultimately, after simmering and planning for two years, one of David's son killed the other in vengeance for their sister. If only they had sought me in the process...I love to help families secure and strengthen their bonds.
I believe in family. I believe in family so much that I'm building an eternal home for mine. Meanwhile, I'm right here in the midst of your earthly family-and my heart's desire is to help you come together in peace and mutual love. Just call on me for guidance. After all, I'm a Father. I want to help my children.
Stockholm's DollI'm so superficial and vain,
I glisten like plastic in the rain,
I tic and toc,
Just like a clock,
I move were you say,
So I am not in the way,
Orders move my gears,
You take away my fears,
When they look they see your doll,
There's no real me left at all,
I was broken a long time ago,
Stuffed in a box six feet below,
Beneath your harsh words and harsher fists,
Days tied up with rope burned wrists,
Nights I'd cry myself to sleep,
Now I obey without a peep,
I'm so perfect and vain,
My eyes glisten without the rain.
Back Into Wonderland
of what I was once fond
I wish now to forget.
As unforgiving were the events
transpired amid regression.
Up build my walls once again,
for my invited guest,
is now an intruder
amongst my bleeding heart.
Back to into the rabbit hole.
Descending I go into the demented realm...
spiraling back downward into my Hell
where my home burns.
LithiumA single trickling rain drop
Like gossamer silk strands
Gliding along my third eye
Whispers wind's secret caress
I exhale. Lungs releasing-
Pressing translucent memories;
Fragment of a fragment
As water kisses rose petal,
Drifting down stream's curtain
Pretty little curtain.
Where the wizard lies.
He smiles up at me
With his monocled brow-
Sipping on warm tea
And fingers quacking casually
To the rhythm of his notes
This is a safe-zone. Free-zone.
Innocent eyes sparkle,
Imploring it to be true. I breathe.
Keep in Touch!
^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More