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4. From Omphalos and Into the War Zone
The arachnid turned, and receded to the peak of the structure,
The creatures stood as still as the trees,
And soon, they too did retreat back to whence they came in the woods.
A powerful gust came to my shoulders,
And at a drumming pace did it come from above…
My ears then beheld in amazement, the beating wings.
The numbers were the sort that would leave you speechless,
Endless were the children of Creation, loyal to a dying & holy breath,
Swooping down, as their passing pulled me back towards the edge.
Here began my free fall from Omphalos and into the War Zone.
Past the maze which I once did tread, descending the mountain
5. The End is No End
Never had I beheld such a morbid sight,
Even after all that had penetrated my vision,
And pierced the very innocence of my soul.
Before stood the arisen Gates of Hades,
And but a few steps was I from the source of opposition.
My knees then met the soil and ash that laid below me.
The eyes that had before surrounded me,
Came to once more encircle me…
I knew not the reason, nor did my curiosity overcome my fear.
The drums of my ears felt nothing but a deafening ring,
And every hair arose on the flesh of my arm in alarm.
A familiar presence came from behind me.
I turned my eyes to the Hooded Figure that had bestowed upon
By Death and a prayer,
Through my tongue
A burning blade into
The hearts of many.
You know me not
But a name and a rumor.
Yes, to the will and way
By which I attempt to live.
Human am I, yet ever so strange.
Far gone, and close to madness
But still am I sane
By Death and a prayer.
Long did I hold patience for this to come,
and the cliché cupid had at last found me.
As wherein our lips meet,
this living system of mine reminisces.
What memories have remained
in my forgetful storage continue
to serve my jaw the smiles
that you so know and adore...
For whatever reason, you chose me,
and pray I that God had a hand.
Though I deserve not a thing,
I receive beyond the expectations of my prayers.
Long did I await your arrival,
And I don't believe you were a second too soon.
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
Still Waters Beyond the Storm
It is above and beyond
the realm where soar the children
of my ever undying Lord.
My mind is forever enraptured
by the very thoughts...
the concepts that are so limitless.
God what glory is to be beheld!
Lead me by still waters my Lord,
Beyond the storms of this wretched world.
Pray I that my intrigue
is never felt as a thorn in Heaven's walls,
as my only wish bring true wisdom home.
Thou art my God,
ascended and surrounding,
forever the greatest of praise goes to you.
From my lips come prayer,
From my hands comes worship,
From my heart comes faith.
Channel my voice through, O'abounding angels!
Though my thoughts often pla
Have you looked into the shattered mirror,
to find the subject of your exasperation?
Accursed hypocrites of the heathen reign,
"Make them suffer for the sins of their ancestors!"
What know you of history's bloody course?
Not a thing, not a damn thing.
Look in the mirror of this worlds memory,
let the record show that which is yours,
the folly, the choking arguments.
Evidence is all you have,
just and yet, the other term, of faith...
Yet again and again,
abased, abashed, by my shear hatred for you all,
Of what do you know in regards to faith?
Not a thing, not a damn thing.
You walk hand in hand with
the blind, deaf & dumb
The Book of Excerpts: Creed of The Patrons
Blessed my guides,
Governed by our King.
His children know my purpose,
just as he upon his throne.
Sweet clarity do I seek,
But of course patience is key,
as by faith do I live, as this
nothing but mortal being.
To only them and our Father,
do I loyally obey.
Behold, for I am the left hand of God,
and I will fear no evil.
Made of What We Are.
Endlessly in the end,
shall I let flow the passion.
Our own, the love undying
to the very cadence of Heaven's joy.
This paradise discovered,
that when my heart speaks of you,
with a burning passion,
that right away I write away.
Thank you God, for Anael's gift...
This now love from afar,
to this portrait of perfection
That to I shall return....
To this, my angelic fire,
I am bound forevermore,
by unbreakable vows
to that true sense of belonging...
For this living gift,
Shall I be home in a heartbeat,
to fulfill that elated kiss,
To glorify her in full.
Here is my box
There is my key
Do you dare open me?
What secrets do I hold?
Are you willing to face the consequences
Of opening my box.
Are you willing to open me up
And look on the inside
What will you do when you see?
These secrets I hold inside
Are only one question away.
That question will open me up.
Will you open my box?
The Changing Tide
The era is now passed through which I lived and favored,
and my patience then packs its bags for hiatus,
with which to remind me that perhaps
brighter days lie in sunny hammocks ahead.
Here and alas lays the road to that sunny setting,
upon which I walk and tread the changing tide.
The next item on the list of Fates agenda and her passionate affair with time...
the seconds will carry on like the beats of my undying heart.
The fire that burns in my eyes, through which I see is only assuaged
by the tears they produce...
the tears I produce in my longing for some peace of some sort.
Yet those tears shall only accompany the sweat of my
2. Maze Upon The Mountain
Around my throat pulled the rugged noose,
tighter with every upward movement...
Though beheld I chains of gold as a harness,
inching me along the way up.
I scaled the mountain of my own,
whilst I tread in its vertical labyrinth...
To my back, a mirror follows my every move,
the constant reminder of every falter.
From above comes down an ever flowing stream,
washing clean from me the blood, sweat, and tears.
Such is the waters of life that I chose to follow,
as the overflow my thirst and tired limbs.
At my feet, the heat of a million fires,
giving rise to the sulfuric smell of Rock Bottom...
Where from and down the rugge
A Shade in the Fog
Gazing onward with the wanting eyes,
in search of nostalgia and reminiscence
is the shell of me.
Repression of thus, my depression,
I recall little to nothing at all.
Find me within the fog of my thought,
Shade of my Lord,
for lost am I,
drowning in the murky waters
of my ever fleeting psyche.
It's Not Delivery, It's Damnation.
So long ago began
the ever growing free for all,
The all you can eat,
dog eat dog world,
are the simplistic struggles.
So out of hand,
that solutions become
straight out and down
from the kitchen above,
down the slip n' slide
through the caverns
of mishaps and mistakes,
I bet it tastes like regret,
and the buyer's remorse,
Reap what you sew say
the teeth of the demon,
With every bite sinks
in a shame filled saliva.
"Maybe we'll slow them down!"
Say the so called thinkers...
I can't help but think against them,
but what do I know?
I'm just a common crumb in the t
Outcast and away from shore,
to the center of still waters,
where rest my tears.
A float, the setting sun
beats its dying light
against my coffin.
Where within lies
my mind in darkness,
afloat amongst the still
waters of my tears.
Confined to a rotting cage of wood,
Time is my mortician,
at the edge of my thought.
The haunting consistency overtakes me,
compromising the process of my existence.
God help me, as the wood
is surely rotting all around me
I shall hold my breath
Just this once and final time.
I have found the haunted wake
past the lens of my sight.
I am the mad man,
within the shell of me
Drawing Blank Pages in the Script
Patience drowns in the blank spots
Where the answers should lie.
The humid tide breaks over his brow,
His eyes shut and lock.
The crows feet perch just outside,
On the rim of the now overflowing wells.
The violent tremble echoes in his heart,
Seizing the moment of thoughtful entanglement.
Never a single thought at one time
to hold the spotlight in mind.
War waged, the clarity comes and goes,
In a tortured mind of without peace.
The echoes grow louder with resistant acts,
And the violent tremble becomes the explosive outburst.
The shame is born into a temporary
Yet prolonged existence, until its end.
The cycle comes back full circl
The Title Says It All
Keep pointing your finger at the laughing man,
The one in the mirror, looking out through a broken window.
He dies happy in the end, alone or no
The shards of broken glass provide the endless angles.
The window is only broken in your eyes,
You of conformity and ignorance.
To his, it is the many gateways of perspective,
Out into that world surrounding.
The third eye wanders,
Zoning in and out of reality.
Focused on theories,
Never on proof.
Prayer only begs for hope,
Off an indecisive tongue.
Knowing not what to do,
But only to worry and fear.
Paranoia sets up what seems like the end,
The third eye tears up...
An effort come and gone,
Dead upon running its course.
Thus begins a means to an end,
Or so we think.
As a conclusion is never desired,
The heart continues to beat.
Cease To Set Sail
Never leave, never leave,
You are the warmth of the blood in my veins.
Cease to set sail on a distance from me.
I am lost in unfamiliar waters.
My love grows, does yours?
In the time of war,
Let only faith keep you alive,
Let only love keep us together.
The waters flow freely with your perfect presence,
The freeze and boil in your absence.
I will never abandon you,
Never leave, never leave.
The Patience of Power
I saw the lonely mother play with her blind child.
And this gave me hope.
I have seen the millions of footprints behind the old man.
And this made me proud.
The painted canvas does always change,
Unfolding history by the brush of human nature.
I have watched my plan slowly play out,
And for this I had patience.
I have witnessed human nature first hand,
And I have yet to find the inclination to change it.
The Unconditional Oath and Vow
"The speechlessness grows at this loss of words, Like some hook on the tip of my tongue, holding it back. Anxiety becomes the presence in wells of my gut, And my heart becomes the drums of my anatomical orchestra...Beating away like a percussional army. I deserve nothing of you, but grace had found me in where near my lowest Hell lied. You, the blessing embodied, took me under your angelic wings and embraced my pitiful existence...Just a kiss soothes that chaotic orchestra...to have and to hold was the purpose of His blessing, Ridding me of this anxious gut of mine."
She stared back with growing tears in her eyes, those windows to Heav
Deserving of Nothing
My endless imperfections
shout to the very core of my soul,
Beating away at my humility,
To bare reminder
that I do not deserve you
in the slightest...
Grace is your very essence,
as you embody that which is perfection.
Whereas my rush
to find the flaws of my name,
You tell it tales true,
of the feelings you hold.
Abnormal is my persona,
and infinite apologies are due,
Many thanks, just as much,
are in order...
To God, to you....
Beauty be what has enraptured my heart
for the eternal hour at hand,
You and only you are the whom
that I most desire,But never deserve.
Mollie's Ribbons I grew up in a small town just a few dozen miles from the closest water sourcea slowly shrinking aquifer that squatted underneath the seat of Thompson County, our neighborly border. Fortunately, we hadn't yet been quite as devastated by our annual droughts as those in Oklahoma and Texas. Rumors would occasionally drift in with a tumbleweed traveler about how bad the deep South had dried up into nothing but an old dusty lake bed, but these flashes of news were too few and too far between to be counted on as up to date or even true.
Once, I heard one of my distant cousins, a boy by the name of Harold, was said to have been caug
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`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More