Ore

Clocks don’t run,

It doesn’t matter what I do from this black matter,

I am impossibly drunk off of psycho soma seismic seman

Tic tic tics,

But the air river flowers through rocky ports.

And falls abundantly through,

Gear cogs,

Cognition.

Midnight chimes,

Frightened day ending,

Molested patented pending,

It’s a Process eh,

Tics tics tics,

To replace the pain.

Invisible rivers,

Are over me,

Time slows down when,

Clocks chime slower slower.

Then rebirth is new,

Dawn dazes and curves strain,

And the clock tic tic ticks,

Sliding down changing,

Ever same insane placement,

It’s a matter of time,

Or a matter of timing,

Or the right fact lying.

God Devil Ghost

I once sat in my room at three in the morning.

Inside the darkest hour,

 Mark told me a story

I didn’t think was real, about nothingness,

And I said “Nothing?”

Nothing.

And I sat saying nothing.

Unable to speak,

The story was about demons and angels.

And I thought of course,

Nothing,

And I slept unanxious,

Of the nothingness unmanufactured.

My mind was life

Judged not guilty,

But nothing.

Tarsus's Prophecy

I had happened to find my end, until the three. Wisdom, Beauty, and Strength came to me, in the manifest forms of lively femininity. Preternatural forms came to me at the last hour.

It began thusly

The farm unlike any farm before it, growing people.

The twin chains shackle all of man. The first was the chain of the mind.

Chain two, wrapped around the body of humanity.

You are made to view the death of your brothers and sisters. They and I too, are made to lie down before the great metal beast it serves.

The chains tug and everyone cheers at this hatred, I watched them all lay down before the machine. I without my own lay at the end of the row.

Only was I slow enough to catch the first glimpse as the machine began to flatten the lamb into paste, it is not cannibalism for the thing that destroys can not clearly be seen as human.

My spirit, the only power left to me, cries out.

I see only then the three hands touch mine. I look up to see the fairest of fair visions of the three, they lift my hand to rise, guiding my hand true, my only example. 

Sweet Nature

Some dine in decadence with goblets to tradition and at last

A nose lifted to the progress,

Oh terrible were ye before we

How far to fall from hunters to peasants to workers.

How did the glory of the forest whistle through crisp fogs of chilled autumn days, but stay perhaps,

In the pine autumn forest, and chirp, birds sing, but they do not sing for you.

Wolves howl for each other, and their goddess moon, yet man howls for the wolf.

Does the wolf answer? Would it if it could know?

The hairless ape was merely acting?

No, humans left the forests, and trees

Wolves and birds, abandoned sweet nature to follow sweet nature

For only the privilege to be with you, and sing

Skeleton Factory

We lose, and the bones of us all eat into our bodies sharply. Cannibalized into malaise, stiffness, conformity, and death, we become mindless, and eat flesh. Towards your own end, as the bodies of children fall mangled from our ribs.

Open your mouth and scream, a creak of stiff hinges, no matter to move to make to say.

I feel the darkness fall in clouds, unable to escape what man made. Like a nest it calls it calls and people die.

Factories of the soul, filled with tar, and fat. All it can process is waste, all it can make is unhappiness.

By whom, by all, and for whom, and for all, for if you seek the fire, you will find that you are only good for burning. So put your fingers down your throat.

Vomit yourself to death, because you will never have what was sewn into you. It is not a flower, but a weed made to strangle you.

Your guilt does not make you Holy, One wishes to be light and free, like the flame.

To float away in the infinity with the pureness of self, no negative additives to be sieved out, as the fire by its nature burnt them away.

The purity of my true self will burn it all away.

All of once and everytime

All at once, and every time

There is fear of weakness inside you

But your tears are like a boulder you cannot bear
From what you never know, puts you back down there

A second too late to hide from the swamp and I do
I only see you falling down falling down
Towards me

I am the swamp, and eternity, buried

Small time big places

All at once and every time

Reel to reel

Swamps stir to the water feel

Idiot Love

But we were just idiots

Thinking we could play house forever

When really all we had in common was loneliness

And a capacity for lying

We lie to embitter the honest

And so their jealousy helps anchor the lie

The fantasy into reality

Self-made relationship

Made of other-made people

Then though reality eventually starts to crack the windows of our pretend house

The spider web in the glass grows with each passing moment we spend alone

With each other, without the nurturing warmth of societies jealousy

Eventually the vacuum of the real must break through

And implode the fantasy that you made insular from it

Because all lies are really lies made to yourself,

Other people are simply reassurance,

Gestalt

No choice little voice. Tasted like vice, so said the man.

What then the tide sprang through. Papered over levies losing to blooding hurricanes.
When it rains it pours when the reign washes over. Watching the watcher man men, when then, can they no longer play pretend.
Masked indicators playing indictment jazz. Like bad like bad.
Sobbing cysts must be missed or train track melodies be delayed. Hard to pay to play pay to win in the blooding whirlwind. 
Rage rage rage, remiss. Can’t take control of the fatherlessness mist, multiplying melancholy, delay the folly bit with mollies shit.
Cry foul battle, steal society’s death baby rattle. Like cattle in the pen, writing new errors in realtime.
Streaming screams through surreal dreams and wallowing in swamps. Culling tallow from the sheep. Censored by the FCC, replaced by a machine beep.
Not quite domesticated, not full savage. Burning ashes buried in baby cabbage. Fields. Field, fiefs, and fiends reaming lands, building fans, salting sands breaking dreams. Only the plastic is shatter proof.
Gestalt, broken faults, vibrating earthquakes timing a mincing waltz. Sabbatical reading, free radical breeding smearing life on rotten asphalt. Inhabitable earth.

Ergoing to America

Like Infinity said,

Progressively bled,

I don’t have a problem speaking, your problem is receiving.

Like a rossetta stone stolen by a demon.

Called ego professing,

The idea of prophecy and heresy,

Judgements and pharasees.

Subtley winding its way,

Into your mind everday until,

You become the monster.

And its not your fault that you were lost,

'Cause you were abandoned,

By a hereditary tradition of bad parenting.

Like a wet dog drowned getting beaten,

Set into a land of wolves and cretins.

You are, you are, that is.

Unfortunately, the world’s bastard kid.

Barrel Monkeys

Feelings censored like thoughts. Put it in a box, and ignite it. A magic trick, the box is empty.

My two eyes can shut, opening only the most powerful. Infinite exodus leaving endlessly on a wave of blood. Somewhere between denial and styx.

Race of growth, to seal two ends. Can’t escape the expansion of space.

Void-shaped yous skulk in the heartlessness. All wailing “why”s

Powerful whys echo and paralyze. Flagulate harder, faster. Wailing whys driving the master eye. Can’t release myself. I am the master, and the slave. I am you.

Event's Horizon

With a boom blast, he came raging out of the blackness,

Powered by the vaporizing ice jet stream,

Sacrificing cold shelling for fuel,

A chance at life, and something genuine.

Riding the first and only spiritual concussive wave,

The last hope of a small star to help something, anything escape the ever-growing event horizon.

Hurtling cometallary to the nearest bright solarity in an attempt to orbitually be planetary.

To escape the implosive strangle of the soul. trying to crush all who reside near into its great spiritual blackhole.

Then to bask and grow life, because with life comes awareness.

And with awareness come emotion which give birth to the spiritual.
And in love be able to contribute to the universal conscious.