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Life is made of dreams?
You subjugate my slave
and smite his toil
for you have
that precious paper oil

Hands are tied
to the papers words
because I must make smile
to please the masters absurds

Freedom is restriction
life is servitude
let me serve myself
for I’d rather die than serve thee!
Lie on a butchered tree
This blank paper was more beautiful than it is now that ink has stained it
For this writing is just another mountain in the universe
A result of something else
but on its own accord and in its abode
Hieroglyphs, hieroglyphs!
Meaningless scribble
farther from the truth than a blank piece of paper!
early november
Mortal uprising
There was a war
bound to a remote land
but rain never fails to come down
and water plunders sand

A tiny rock upon a mountain peak
with buildings towering high
the floods of war keep rising
but only some wry

Water air fire earth
natures attack on man
Science Math History language
he does all he can!

Casting stones into water
steel clashing steel
we kill eachother
then to the sky kneel.

We have a gun, a knife
and so much more implements of destruction
I too am a fighter
as histories ressurection would show

My weapon
shant die
unless nature so deem
for writings only fire can clean!
7 days of sacrifice
On Sunday the dawn came
fresh and golden t’was my enkindled heart
Monday was nothing near the same
till death did my golden sphere and I part.
Tuesday was aerumnious
what a mass of wasted toil.
Wednesday came slow as sloths
and how vibrant the turmoil!
Thursday sank the ship
all the way down to an emotional nadir
Friday brought a bit of hope with it
along with a violent veer.
Saturday I sat, back upon a tree
finally time to be sir phoenix and emerge another me.
Covert shackles
Yous’ a vadelect
Yous’ teach me to speak like this
but you’s never teach me nutin’ good
Yous’ aint never teach me that yous’ a vadelect!
early november
A midnight dreary
Twiddling my thumbs
is being awake any different than sleeping?

Time moves so slow
for someone like me;
a hare bound upon a tortise’s back

My hands are tired
and back is sore from sitting
why can’t I just rest myself?

Eyelids descending
sleep is marching full steam ahead
but my body is the cow upon its tracks

Beauty everywhere
awake? Darkness
my friend Chronozoan

A noise
I fall into another sleep
I am dead yet again

Twiddling thumbs
I am too tired for the like

Cannot hold eyes open here
falling asleep
ADD failing

Cannot stop paying attention
Control is passed to voices
Please shut up!
My soul is so hungry
but what shall meet its appease?
Will the worlds bounty suffice,
nay, that rot is for my servant
pen- make food for the other starving pneumos
and they shall do the same for thee.
Diamonds of Rocks
Quotidian wretchedness has missed the mark
for the day whence day failed to come
yesterday I toiled
molding coal
and whence the beastly rock fell to my slumber tomb
it twas quite a sight
though the wind is always against me
and he thieved my diamond away
in tomorrow I buried hope
that my breathe shall befriend the worlds
then thy stone will fall nearest my living well
and with the mighty shackle of love be bound
for the rest of the day.
Eternity of mankind
I am being run over by the rollers of
Wars! Wars! Wars!
Smashed into the pavement by the rollers of
Wars! Wars! Wars!
Ripped apart and torn by the rollers of
Wars! Wars! Wars!
Two dimensionalized and patronized by the rollers of
Wars! Wars! Wars!
Shackled and disheartened by the rollers of
Wars! Wars! Wars!
A chance to stand up?
Only if I can escape the rollers of wars.
Food for thought
Some food to ease your hunger
upon your journey of a million miles?
If you are not hungry
please do not openly salivate
do not draw me superficially
because I will not teach thee
In my hand I clasp my foe
and invoke the muses
who laugh at my woe
My pen
the implement of suicide
or as they call him a dear friend
I feel as if the roles are reversed
I hold him
yet he controls me
Kicking, prodding
forcing my hand whence to go
and long ago I lost control
The muses I call not by name
and they descend upon my breath
thrusting their words to some sadistic fame
and as for my poor body
he is
the epitome of idleness infected to death
I cannot help it being a figment of my futile mind
but tardedness is a diabolical playground
endiabled from narcia
a savior dubbed the words I hast found
At one time I used to enjoy pseudo freedom
but it was lost long ago
ever since I renounced ignorance
I have no where to go!
You serve me, and I you
There is nothing more I can do.
Mars flexed his muscle
and life was born.
Life is conflict
and death is the absence of;
the forfeiting to Venus.
Liber Rot
I seem so ____
but I am telesthesiac
I know not myself
I only know what everyone knows about themselves
and we are all above our senses perception
thus everyone else merely is everyone else.
Though our existence may be adminicle
it only exists in contrast to what we say does not exist.
As you can see the world is formative to what you see
and as a figment of our slavish thoughts
though thought never was or is what we think
everything so dubbed is realization of what is known
to think is the process of discovering that
however you already know
thus thought is merely regressing
to what was known long ago
and I hardly call it a discovery
for a discovery is finding something new
and nothing is new
thus all is naught!
And until I can perceive what cannot be perceived
reality is a delusion
though reality only exists in contrast to what does not exist
and that is telesthesia
which is all that exists!
Are words ever so wretched
that they disguise the noise
that they try to describe
Are they farther from the truth
than the balderdash burped by an inebriate?
But he can only speak the world as he sees it
and what a lie
those blind eyes chose to show thee’s
The Omnipresent Mask
round and round
goes the gazing clock
without a sound
One second two
forty seven more moves
then im through!
Ticker tocker
round in face
loud talker
slow pace.
Staring at me
as I await for he that speaks
bowing before thee
of a mask he reeks!
Revelations unresolved
dark clouds to rainbows
fear dissolved
to happy throes
of hope descending
upon hallow ground
ages fail to start regressing
echoes of doubt surround.
Winged men
Angels dancing on rotten empires
their halos revolving around the soldiers
what devils they are to spread cold fires
all the while with the presumptuous tongue of a child; liars!
Mom moM
A mom is a mom
no matter how you look at it.
Same with a dad,
but take a dog
which is a backwards god
but position is relative
and we are truly backwards
thus dogs are gods
and men their masters
while at the same time we are their finest slaves
Everything exists only in contrast
thus the sum of all opposites is nothing.
Ignorant and enlightened men manifest one extreme
and neither exist without taking on traits of the other
for they are the same
they both amount to nothing because they cancel each other out.
So live life learning how to die
and you will see there is no death;
live life to live
and you will die a horrible death
for you may be able to jump very high, but there is nothing to land on.
Futile Armor
I was sitting with my heart in my stomach
two-hundred links into the night
while trying to perfect the Templars physical armor of Christ.
Pushed onward with the ambiguous hope
of a near metaphysical impossibility;
I yearned to craft something so her knives would not cut me.

A foundation for my future
being bred with steel and back pains
suffering is a good escape but not a solution
is there a way to make one part of me
untouched by sanity

Consumed by the plague; uncertainty.
Shall I die for her or god?
Or will my armor be finished and potent
Can I die merely for myself,
what loneliness would come!

Am I strong enough to give up
without being swept away into the oceans of dolts
Why am I so horny for the death of me
is love really worth something so inevitable;
my death.

Must I really find a god or woman
and be consumed by their wantingness
as I fall victim to my senseless giving.
I loathe destruction at my current mental state
though in the future I too know I must love something
which will slay me first; women or god?
Endiabled Gyp
He is a modern Jesus
for he led her from another astray
and brought her to his paradigm
in the world where he makes everyday

I am free now
at least from that minor satanic deity
Lillith was her model
but the wench is slain in my eyes view

It is all too evident now; Jesus died with a hard on
for that is the only way to tame Satans friends
without merely passing them to infect another,
in which I have done, but i feel no remorse for he wanted her.
Last updated 11/30/98