Saturday, August 31, 2013

Poetry & Podcasts August 31st


Medical Test Doll I



Expressionless bipolar secondary figurative skin,White to blue lies tone of an epidermis gone cold,Vane interactions motion over the change!

I.V lucid aspiring lost dream plagued intentions,Memories fighting the nebula of star dust's chain of unlinkable events born of delusion...?

Regret face motion tear biometrics capture,History's capital repeat offender is life as it forgets the statues of the past,You'll see...

Delusional moralistic statue mindset foundation in altruism,Harmony's ultimate official fan-boy,But only on the boring weekends,Pride wins!

Novel of war converted to sin,Beast wavers in the abyss,Decrepit realms beyond the North Wind & Well at the World's End,Where death looms...

Vivid truth colourless grey autobiography of believers,Too caught in judgement's rapture motives to rescue the world,No time for recycling!

Legacy of havoc's endless angle of synonyms for anonymity & profit,War...Dedicated nameless honour sake wall of avarice's battle street.

A poetic cosmonaut of compassion's campaign to raise awareness, mend & inspire on multiple platforms; Podcasts, Blogging, Twitter, OpenMic, Touring, Education.

Respite I

In earnest anticipation of,

Friday, August 30, 2013

World's Over Journal IX Odd Rock

     Today I went for a walk up the gorge above the river, a suggestion given to me by Freya, who seemed to have become my shoulder companion lately. She often said it was easier than walking beside me, and I enjoyed her presence there, so close to me. After walking not more than a kilometre we came to a small meadow, its edges bright with a most lovely purple flower. In the centre of the glade was a large rock, a very round rock it was, almost perfectly so.

     ‘That’s a rock golem,’ whispered Freya into my ear, ‘don’t worry though he’s been there for an age of the earth or so it seems.’ She leapt from my shoulder and clambered off amidst the tall grass. I didn't see her until she appeared again scurrying up the rock side. After reaching the top she turned to me, gave a sweeping curtsy and struck the rock twice with the end of her staff.

     ‘See he won’t wake, silly old creature,’ Freya pronounced with confidence. ‘Not unless by some feat of unspoken magic he wakes, but that will not happen,’ she said with a wink of her blue eye while a smile danced upon her tiny pink lips.

     ‘Don’t toy with me like that,’ my mouth retorted before I could withhold and with that I stepped into the glade amidst the tall grass, ‘for I do not know anything of the deep magic.’ I heard Freya let out a tiny giggle underneath the brim of her hat as she stooped over pretending to be interested in something upon the Golem’s back.

     ‘Come and sit upon the rock for it is warm as if the sun shown endlessly upon it,’ Freya beckoned to me, ‘It is not very often that I’ve come this far north. Always our family knights hunted in the glades, but the bugs that dwell here can get big, even I may have trouble fending them off alone if too many gathered or I wondered into a nest,’ she finished with a heavy hearted sigh as she sat down and crossed her legs.

     Once I had gotten closer to the Golem I found that even as it was, all curled up in a circle, it was nearly as tall as I was. Courage I mustered up as I moved my hand to find a grip as to pull myself up. My fingers clamped down and my foot found a small ledge, the large rock Golem did not stir, though I found it very warm indeed. We spend the rest of the day sitting upon, what we presumed was, the Golem’s back watching the sun go down west into the trees. Charles met us there and together as a family, we walked home. Though I was certain not for the last time from the spot where the Golem lay.

In earnest anticipation of,
Jane
With Charles

Poetry & Podcasts August 30th


Film Critical Acclaim


Every ghost,Wrestles life once,Shell conceived prey,Waking in grey isolation,Aftermath of the world's use,Husk is hollow in tragic appeal...

Theft of conscience's decrepit whore-mongering profit only globe,Compassion is apathy,Synonym for profit,War on earth,Plain to see,An ending

Vanity a killjoy unto the pariah of hope,Vagabond gone rogue,Venturing onto battle insurgent fields amidst the vapid storm of hailing profit

Paper mache intravenous string resurrection,Alternative injection route,Puppeteer's decaying overly used marionette therapy,Rise with ghosts

Veteran magic hand trick play at roulette incognito,Reverse chalk outline murder photograph,Still as bullet hole stone,Resurrection failure!

Chemical Crime Clarity: Syria


In earnest anticipation of,

Pariah

     All art in heaven, may the sketch of a promise be a sonnet's constellation woven as a nebula of weight relieved as the mechanism of nurture meant to imprison the bones of humanity gives way to compassion infused virtue, this is nature.

    Vagabond derelict of my own imagination, a requiem of the worst next moment possible a constant thought, provoking a process of a cursed confidence, set on cryostasis against an aimless self vengeance forever lost within the conduit of an internal self decrepit saga monologue gone rogue, breaking down any threat of courage.

In earnest anticipation of,

(un)Limited Reach


Influence,

     The power to alter the course of another's human condition;  I desire none of it. Poetry is the unreasonable voice of metaphor speaking directly to the soul.

     Some men desire influence by label of power over others. This is achieved today via dubious mechanics, mostly under the guise of debt. 

     Rampant is the design of control, Out of the hands of the common folk and under the reigns of those who manifest a destiny of greed, Their will imposes a threat upon children, Not just of humanity but that of every seed that will form into a sapling which inevitably becomes fauna, flower or tree...

In earnest anticipation of,
The end of oil...

Thursday, August 29, 2013

Heart of Alternatives


        Provided with a loneliness gift I've grown to love,No one to miss me when I'm found face up,Yet I mourn the world with odes of poetry daily,Guided by the torture of a compassionate heart that thrives of living for the sake of writing...Or was it inspiring,Either way;This tiny poet speaks as the ocean,Endless waves of torrents against the shores of the human condition,No glitter or subjugated pleasantries from the soul of the matter.

Halt,This Tin Soldier's heart is bleeding Christmas tinsel tears upon cross bearing wrapping paper,Fell in love with the faction of giving over long forgotten years by the donor whose fingers shut me up an unexplainable box of isolation until...No one should ever open it up. I beg,Let alone the beast within my breast alone,One day the carrion like ravens shall unwrap the box and eat the heart upon my wrist that fell from my hands.

In earnest anticipation of,
J

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Landmine Marathon


     Landmine Massachusetts end of the line winner's mark hate broadcast,Terror's crimson blood unannounced stains the race red,These are the words of a poet who read from distant lands the riddle of bombs exploding upon crowded city streets...

      Without a stop sign warning flash of light began a heavenly adventure,Hell's uprising swarm of smoke bellowed its way out upon children in stands who stood ready to applaud,Severed hope in a vermilion run aftermath,The lost begin a new march on distant eternal shores.

In earnest anticipation of,
A Villain

As my heart bleeds, the poetic fingers inscribe pages.

Poetry & Podcasts August 29th


A Granny Story!



Obscene shelter for prejudice,Seductive burlesque demon,Painted succubus pigment,Epidermis Scottish blue-white spun web,Deceit is incognito!

Relief at the ending...Anonymity embraces light,Beautiful red stage threat,Discomfort is hated,Luxury is denial,Performance... is Forgotten!

Painted silken pigment,Woven red silken carapace,Vermilion offences,Upon us all,Relief at the ending...Inhumane prideful reprieve blossom!

Anonymity adores a curtain drop,Reanimate lives into dreary silence,Physical stage threat has past off stage left,Ravishing its performance!

Half rooted step manipulated towards the maker,Blink;Kin of death,Time leapt life forwards,One foot conscious the other in twilight's tunnel

Wrestle the World I


In earnest anticipation of,


Poetry & Podcasts August 28th (Nerdity Warning)

The following content is quasi to overly nerdy.
Enjoy!

Flash Bulb - Shogun of the Dark I (Nerdity Warning)


Dear God, Tomorrow I might die, So tonight I write to she who waits...

Dearest Death

Shadow of a snake upon the way,Roll of the ladder's fallen dice upon the dais before the throne of guilt,We play at luck instead of will!

Conjured dialogue, spell to overcome
Conjured mechanical dialogue,Spell of a messenger,White inhuman hand web of silk lies woven by wrestles hands sifting through silhouettes.

Eight legged conundrum beguiling ambient butterfly passengers a moth's silhouette,Miscreant of ill boding curiosity,Epitaphs filed in blood!

Nucleon entrance to the synapse of a fire breather,Altruistic divine light's atomic eclipse,State of the earth excited at the particle birth

Hyper flexible knees bowed before an evil toothless smile constellation,Back contortionist bender appalled at the crime of chemicals scene!

Unqualified to speak,Grew up stone bold as white boring,Hallways bullied deep this truth:Grotesque dream traitors only monetarily win vanity

Fabled ancient myth infused lore explanation for the hole in one's earth:The heart,Body endlessly mentions aches&the mind is numb with cold!

Entangled lost acrobat,Crippling arduous gradient,Solemn diligence passage,Theatre abiding conceit,Erotic prototype costume familiar trap!


Flash Bulb - Additional Pylon Clarity (Nerdity Warning)



In earnest anticipation of,

Amazing Ride: Adventure Mobile!

Wherever this family goes in this treasure,
I want to a part of that adventure,
Once upon a time,
I cycled...
What a wonderful Sunday ride!
80k to family's church,
Then dinner was had
Wonderful mean
For me...
A post anorexic.

Tuesday, August 27, 2013

A Red Bastardish

Entangled lost acrobat
Crippling arduous gradient
Solemn diligence passage
Theatre abiding conceit
Erotic costume familiar
Painted web pigments
Epidermis contempt
Vermilion blessing
Upon us all

Vapid luxury blooms
Inhumane anonymity shelter
Ignorant angle of theatrical denial
Silent heroic lonely stage presence
Ravished by observer statements
Condescending performance theft
Arrogant naivety adoring freaks
Society's appalling bouffon
Alienating creativity
To reinstate pride
A dreary relief

Entangled unhinged acrobat
Paralysing catastrophic incline
Indignified open earnest hostilities
Obscene shelter for prejudice
Seductive burlesque demon
Painted succubus pigment
Epidermis spun web
Deceit incognito

Relief at the ending...
Anonymity embraces light
Beautiful red stage threat
Discomfort is hated
Luxury is denial
Performance...
Forgotten

Ensnared obscure acrobat
Debilitating havoc gradient
Solemn painstaking gauntlet
Mobilize arms call against
Erotic burlesque familiar
Painted silken pigment
Woven red carapace
Vermilion offences
Upon us all

Relief at the ending...
Inhumane reprieve blossom
Anonymity adores a curtain drop
Reanimate lives into dreary silence
Physical stage threat has past
Ravishing his performance
Amends to detachment
Reinstated naivety
Affluent relief

In earnest anticipation of,
Appreciating Another Artist


Poetry & Podcasts August 27th

Chemical Brick Witness



Satan filling gaps in the liberated stone brigade of heaven's only lane,Named guilt by a brave witless evil tiding story association silence

Sailing around the moon upon stars,Dreams escaping stories,Journal entry book of fate theft,Chemicals stealing lives from kids,Behind you...

Awakened vulgar predator,Narcissistic soul codex alignment,Heart contorted in metropolis,Pursuing damaged victims,Under a black moon rising

Danger unmanaged,Recalled hour glass time,Framed for a score unsettled,Black litter runt concept,Echoing moral premise,Wept out silent lungs

Every ghost,Wrestles life once,Shell conceived prey,Waking in grey isolation,Aftermath of the world's use,Surreal theft of conscience' globe

Cyclical addictive chemical domestic pill box cell retreat,Hovel from onyx fists,Eyes spend too many grains of time black,Minotaur bruised

Minotaur Sheriff 


In earnest anticipation of,

Monday, August 26, 2013

Metropolis Screams II

City not yet awake
Screaming heart codex
Vile alignment of metropolis
Invisible honourless dark
Terror plight forest
Scent of prey
Howling...

Wrestled life once
Screamed as overcome
Woke the world's compassion
Died a murder of apathy
One shot to the vein

Awakened vulgar predator
Narcissistic soul codex alignment
Heart contorted in metropolis
Pursuing damaged victims
Harmed in blight forest
Under a black moon
Eclipse of morality
Freedom...

Wrestled life once
Upon the dais of compassion
Before the throne of metropolis apathy
Contorted bent knee to detachment
Murderer of benevolent's clarity
Single loveless arrow plunge
Into the heart of inhumanity
Where life stands today

Danger unmanaged
Recalled hour glass time
Framed for a score unsettled
Black litter runt concept
Echoing moral premise
Wept from silent lungs
In endless dreams
They're piercing
Howl of loss...

Every ghost
Wrestles life once
Shell conceived prey
Waking in grey isolation
Aftermath of the world's use
Husk is hollow in tragic appeal
Theft of conscience globe
Compassion is apathy
Synonym for profit
War on earth
Plain to see
The ending

To Cultural Norm... Or to Tramp?

Dearest Loved Ones, All the Earth.


     I have landed safely and with God's grace had a couch to sleep on for the first few nights I was in London. I managed to make it out this morning to Holy Trinity Brampton, the church that started alpha. It was a very different Anglican service from the few I had experienced thus far. I have no idea how I am going to transition online poet, blogger and youtuber into guest speaker. Though I do have several possible avenues I can pursue, most of them sadly outside the church.

    Because I was so wounded by my peers for so long in the church growing up and into young adulthood I am disinclined to both trust the church and ask her for help. Mostly I do not ask because much of my art does not align itself with what seems to be comfortable or accepted as art or spoken word / message in the church today. Much of my poetry, though not all of it, is dark. This is so that those who suffer might identify with the words written. Being who I am, they can reach out to me via email or watch me on youtube or read my blogs. The people can see that I live by positivity, I live a life of hope and loving others despite my sorrows and misfortunes. This is because in Christ I persevere. Even when God seemed to have forsaken me entirely invisible, I persevered on in my faith. Knowing that it was surely truth.

    Whatever becomes of me, I live to write and I write to die, empty. That when I am laid in the ground there was not a single breath of the word of truth left within me to be said. If that be tomorrow a two years from now, I write on. I desire no riches, if all I ever had was the backpack at my feet and a bike to ride upon, I would be utterly content. Sadly I am not connected enough to live the life of a guest speaker, nor am I educated enough to be accepted as one and the art of poetry makes me no money.

    This week I launched the 'request a poem' button on my websites and a donation button as well. So that people can begin to reach me in a new manner that would allow me to craft them something special. To reconnect people to their human condition, their soul and thus opening the door for mending, through or into Christ Jesus eventually is my means. 

     Last night it was a hostel, not too shabby. I don't mind being a tramp, Jesus couch surfed for years... 

    What I could do is transfer work here, work full time, get an apartment, go to church and build a network of confidence that people might trust my words enough that I might be taken seriously... Thus eventually down the road I might be accepted as a public, guest poetic hope inspiring story telling speaker... But I think that would take time and effort away from writing. So instead I think I'll be like Christ and open my life up to the opportunities of faith, much like how I've  lived most of my life.

   I actually think I enjoy the life of a tramp, nothing but a small backpack, laptop and possibly a bicycle. Nothing else to keep me from pursuing the poetic hope inspired dreams of faith I long to live and share with others. Maybe someday I'll even be able to make a few dollars off my poetry via donations or public support. Then I continue on, travelling and speaking, writing and crafting amazing words for those who hurt.

    Even now, I am not out sight seeing, I haven't seen much of anything yet save Hyde Park since I walked through it on my way to Whole Foods Kensington Heights, I am writing. Last night I wrote here at in the cafe until it was time to check into the hostel, so I shall do so tonight. Tomorrow I will live much the same unless something else to do is presented, I believe there is a poetry cafe in the East End to visit and Speaker's Corner. I also applied for a Busking License to sell 'poetry for a pound... or two' in the London subway. Not so much as to make a living, though I hope to make at least 20 pounds to spend on food and shelter each day, but more so to give people an opportunity to re-connect back with humanity. When they either read or hear my words, they will know that someone in this world has seen them. Seen who they really are, accepted them and given them something meaningful, along with a smile and a hug.

   The other day it hit me, what stops me from walking around all day giving people poetry and human contact validation as they should desire it, the fear of losing my physical possessions, but what if I had none? If I had none would I spend all day writing, yes. Would I go out into the streets attempting to give people something entirely unique, yes! Does it matter in the grand scheme of making a living, being seen as equal to others and accepted... No, most certainly not. It matters only to those who see and inquire to receive.

    If I really believe in who I am, this socially awkward Russell Brand half handsome poet in Christ who lives to inspire hope... If I really believe in God, if I really do have faith, I will live this weird socially unacceptable counter culture dream! Not to be closer to the image of Christ, only to live the dream He hath given me. To write, to speak, to inspire equality for hope and virtue! 

    After all, it wouldn't take a thousand people to fund my lifestyle. I spend less than twenty pounds (30.00$ Dollars) a day on living and could spend even less if the opportunity of couch surfing were steady. All it would take is a few people, maybe even a single person, to empower me via donation to exist for a year or even more! I know not. 

   Sure enough a great amount of work is necessary in order to be considered of any value as an artist. I have written over a thousand lyric style poems on my blog, hundreds of blog posts and nearly six and a half thousand twitter (149 character) poems, if that is not enough work to be considered an artist of even the most amateur level, then I shall certainly be nothing forever. Dying alone in some gutter in a far off land where my bicycle finally decomposed underneath my rump.  The most blessed thing is, that I do not fear that day. If it be tomorrow or two years from now, I accept my path as a humble and broken yet striving poet.

In earnest anticipation of,
Juton

Poetry & Podcasts August 26th

Prescription Conspiracy


Someone once stated,'Pardon me,'As they trudged through my territory explodingly,Flesh burst into ochre flames as they devoured my very name

Unspeakable language after a body count,Unconjourable distance between unholy mass of unaccounted for graves point of death origin to end...

Puppet on a ringer spelling circles as squares,A master adopts a new trophy upon the mantle beside me,Not afraid of...My name's dusty fate!

Threat of Silence I


Treading oceanic water,One armed attempt,Spot light search for familiar faces pass by,Drowning in pariahdom's doubt,Wilting the rose of love

A uniquely decrepit heart shaped onyx forlorn rose,Never handed out majesty unlike a tactical advantage sworn to the dark,Home of oblivion.

In earnest anticipation of,

Sunday, August 25, 2013

Poetry & Podcasts August 25th

Post War II



Someone once stated,'Pardon me,'As they trudged through my territory explodingly,Flesh burst into ochre flames as they devoured my very name

Unspeakable language after a body count,Unconjourable distance between unholy mass of unaccounted for graves point of death origin to end...

777 Series: Prescription's Declining Mechanism, an Ill Fate


In earnest anticipation of,

Saturday, August 24, 2013

A Frail Heart Codex

Dreadful snow fall
Frozen rain walker
Arctic life anthology
Saga of a deadly circle
Fragile honour decaying
Permafrost ethics meltdown
Painful icy wound discoveries
Delicate scars covered in rime
Flakes of dreams fall endlessly
As if chance held fate's hand
Counting the lives lost...
In tombs of stained ice
Lonely renditions
...Redone in glass

In earnest anticipation of,


767 Medical Test Marionette

Theatrical caged doll
Made of paper mâché
Stain glass marionette
Fragile skin docked strings 
Serpents of contempt
At vein play

Second hand medical 
Wings adorn her back 
Black patchwork mended
Surgical pinned on staples 
She's now flightless 
Even in dreams

Hospital fate enclosure 
Amphitheatre of doubt
Vein I.V drip marionette 
Frail porcelain blue doll
Tests chart white stage
Echo of ghosts at play

Second hand medical
Treatment of an angel
Broken transparent wings
Onyx mother's spell mended 
Disabled in disbelief of suffering
Child hooked to ten machines 
Wrestling to be free
In flightless dreams

Unbroken... Code of Hope.

Timeless,

     Hope is bound to the heart, Like wisdom is bound to knowledge, Both are an application you must use. Psychologically no one can describe how to live in any particular moment, nor the next that comes after. That is what wisdom is for, discerning the correct action(s), possibly in the aftermath of said interaction.

    Emotional attachment exist when hope arises, often this is brought up from the depths of will, it is called courage... Which is much more valuable than confidence. Confidence walks a walk every step, without deviation, save when something unpredictable occurs. Courage exists within the an opposing individual than our confidence walker, It is constantly there, yet it lies dormant until necessary...

     In today's society hope is very much desired, yet courage and other virtues are not. Sadly you cannot have hope without virtue. For any form of hope that lacks virtue is pure, in selfishness and thus is not hope at all but desire.

     So it is that hope and courage, along with a myriad of virtues are intertwined. Find one and begin a path to courage, on behalf of a brighter future.

In earnest anticipation of,
Juton

Poetry & Podcasts August 24th



Acting, as...If I




Dear God,

     Obscene cretin of oblivion, if you could see us now... I hate the loss You allow that traverses the constellation of humanity's Mother Earth to Father Time's plotted course through a requiem ode to love, long lost and dead!

All art in heaven, may the sketch of a promise be a sonnet's constellation woven as a nebula of weight relieved as the mechanism of nurture meant to imprison the bones of humanity gives way to compassion infused virtue, this is nature.

Vagabond derelict of my own imagination, a requiem of the worst next moment possible a constant thought, provoking a process of a cursed confidence, set on cryostasus against an aimless self vengeance forever lost within the conduit of an internal self decrepit saga monologue gone rogue, breaking down any threat of courage.

777 Triple Origin(s)




In earnest anticipation of,


Friday, August 23, 2013

Seconds of Character(s)

Get em out,

     Window of time not lost,Can't stop for the debt of darkness,Waiting for light to reveal what its done to the imaginary projection of me,Puppet on a ringer spelling circles as squares as the master adopts a new trophy upon the mantle inside me... Not afraid of,My name's sake mud parade, I accept the unbeckoned tolldom of hate.

     Treading oceanic water,One armed attempt,Spot light search for familiar faces pass me by,Drowning in thoughts of a heart shaped onyx rose never handed out,A tactical advantage like it forsook to the dark,Home of Oblivion,Where dreams grow old,Loneliness morphs them into terrors children live through,Convict of compassion,Renegade against the apathy of hate,This world for our future's equal state must change.

       If only I could shut off the valve of hate or hope. To find myself beyond this culture's ironic self destructive in a truth against imaginary way... Some heroes are valued by many, others by a few, some by just one, I by none. Yet I write on.

In earnest anticipation of,

Poetry & Podcasts August 23rd


Lord Ominous II


Nebula

Vagrant story woven in a nebula of white, serpent lies in the woes of wait, lingering for a contract of fangs agreement to skin.

Refugee pariah of political subjugation, degree in classified historical text of chains linking armed dictatorship conflict hanging hands behind spinal chord nodes tied by ropes,

Aspirations of avarice, nebula of constant contempt for compassion, arms of a conflict blow drone wide open on behalf of a failed hit x marked yet missed, plastic lifeless victims blood stains a cake street

Dementia's Lost Cause: Death


In earnest anticipation of,


Thursday, August 22, 2013

Poetry & Picture August 22nd

A phone trip algorithm,

Chasing the sunset.


Whilst on a 58 mile cycle from Glasgow to Edinburgh on a Sunday eve after a full eight hour shift at work...  This was the sight I looked back to, the allure of earth and the majesty of balance.

However fast our world is falling apart, there is still much beauty in it. Take a glimpse feel the poweress of it all and breathe, just breathe.

Moth Genocide I

Nocturnal mass graves
Surrounded by the exhumed
Gestating resurrection event
Corpses from cocoons
Grey mourning rebirth
In a world gone numb
Apathetic to beauty

Eyes gone rogue

Shogun I

War shogun of Babylon
Synonym of irrational profit
Drone sent forth by progress
Legacy of imaginary enemies
Napalm of terror on civilians



In earnest anticipation of,
VoT

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

767 Dementia Ode I

Depleting pasture of memory, intellectual grasp foregoing reality, lover held his hand during a breaking heart, as the mental curse stole her hero's mind away.

Gene cursed pool disturbance, beckoning worst flat line call ever taken, noose of a sixty five year old man, operator collapsed in remorse as the blip blip turned to bleep's failure to respond, no doctor revival for the man who lost his name.

Death, a dementia relief, fallen paper once stacked beside chair medical trail of an illness no imagination curator should have, finished at the writer's desk, an order not to revive once dead.

A dedication neither unsavoury good nor delightfully bad to a poet's self craft noose, maybe he'd only imagined the blight scenario, maybe he never meant to follow through with this lonely ending, no one ever cared to see and no one will remember.

Onyx synapse cavern not firing an orchestra of twilight beyond risk of a promise to revive. Everything left of us is faded away. May the adventure of creativity be enjoyed by... Someone.

In earnest anticipation of,
VoT

Poetry & Podcasts

Dear God, Tomorrow I might die, So tonight I write to she who waits...

Dearest Death

Learning to speak inaudible language, Sullen imperial grey into trench of the ocean depths scanning my face, her green eyes change. 

Random access granted algorithm of torment after tragedy's mourning lunar red tide journal entry of the world's loss,Lives stolen by napalm.

Constantine reapplying made up personalities,Thick putrid layers of decrepit self told stories recounting a boastful history of persuasion.

Too damaged to speak,Reoccurring wounds of fateless digits,Fingers portraying the voice inside as it cries,Behind a raised aegis' reflection

Post War II



Prescription's Ill Designed Fate


Prescription's Decline

Vivid delirium nonsense
Conquest of a protagonist
Salient infantry private in uniform
Regular patient of the bomb shelter
Cold sirens dilute all daylight
Distress method of destiny
Integrate lucid anomalies
Gas ruined breathing
Lobotomy's silence
Failure of strategy
Mend in death

Medication on notice
Paranoia attention decline
Deficit lost profit disorder
Monetary guilt trip up in arms
Toxins under forced recovery sheets
Prevail against peaceful sleep
Sinking in a red tide of sweat
Ocean of beads skin fallen
Pills bleeding prescription
Sedated in overdose
Pills will prevail...     

In earnest anticipation of,
VoT

767 Prescription's Declining Mechanism

Vivid delirium nonsense
Conquest of a protagonist
Salient infantry private in uniform
Regular patient of the bomb shelter
Cold sirens dilute all daylight
Distress method of destiny
Integrate lucid anomalies
Gas ruined breathing
Lobotomy's silence
Failure of strategy
Mend in death

Medication on notice
Paranoia attention decline
Deficit lost profit disorder
Monetary guilt trip up in arms
Toxins under forced recovery sheets
Prevail against peaceful sleep
Sinking in a red tide of sweat
Ocean of beads skin fallen
Troche prescription clot
Sedated in overdose
Pills will prevail...

Radiant dementia paradox
Knight in conspiracy's armour
Prominent ghost ship avatar
Upon black stead waves
Synchronizing delusions
Distress method of fate
An illness algorithm
Goad on Melange

Prescription of mending
Paranoia immersion Deficit
Attention's unsuccessful debate
Guilt trip up in arms against sleep
Cover up toxins manifest nightmares
Onyx dreams bleed vermilion
Tears swell under sheets
Where lucid lies dwell
Hindering the healing
Pills will prevail...

Aspiring hysteria salvation
Prescription antagonist's grave
Templar's theatre of war epitaph
Unmistakable aegis fire emblem
Hero's delusional of salvation
Serum into vein pyre ignites
No pill shield ever denied
The illness algorithm
Of a monologue
So numbing

Paranoia immersion decline
Diligent intoxicating paralysis
Six senses on a guilt trip
Trapped in melange
A living nightmare
Lucid fiction life
Losing touch
Pills will...