X00 Caliber.

Tenderness, aching, ambitious.
The double-edged sword.
Arthur's birthright.

Tomorrow is the Spanish Inquisition.
The great tirade.
The grand torture beneath the terminals
Seeds have been spilt.
Oceans emptied.

Tomorrow marks the day of wrath.
Bitter, sour, distressed.
The brightness of day eclipses the darkness of shadow.

Shadow so essential.
A shadow so dire.
Obligatory, quintessential.

Today I sit alone again.
Sword in earth's heart.

Tomorrow she will bleed to death.
Mother Earth.
She will flow volcanic rivers.
Birth a bastard nation.
A simple, lonely nation.

God help it.
God abort it.

She knows not goodness.
Only the cries of a hungry child.
They must be nourished.
Worshipped.
They must be saved according to Guinevere's last will and testament.

Post war.

Please believe me
The curse of the violent shadows reawakens.

The inner demons will run rampant and the god star will breathe life into the eternal.

Waves of elemental magic beseech the crimson crown of the terrestrial wasteland.

God of war, son of god, Father of fear.

The world bleeds blue.
God bleeds yellow.

A Madness: Part 2

The tragic life of a dreamer.
Faust would be proud.

Today the glimmering solemn midnight jolted with eloquent veracity.
The poet saw.
The poet too wrote.
"Oh myriad skies,
a shallow grave you dig for me.
Atop a tombstone with etched goodbyes.
A half dug grave unseen by man.
A wooden coffin.
Rather just a tree.
A time trapped prison.
A master plan.
A perfect future only god can see"

The devil deals in rotten fate.
Expired promises, important dates.
The time of day, one can say is under the spell of our own hell.

The tree of life provides shade.
Life only has one escape.
Escape can be tricky.
Make a plan, or serve your sentence.

Procrastination is now a virtue.

A Madness: Part 1

The taste of consequence severe.
I've leaped again into the same dark waters. If repetition is the definition of insanity then surely I am mad.

But nature too is lunatic.
Yes, a mad god made this twisted earth. 

A mad god caught in a loop. 

A mad god, a broken record.
A line crossed. Never crossed before.

I am bound by cruel nature.

It is clear to me now.  
Mad, cruel, twisted nature.
A mad, cruel, god's lunatic punchline.

unbound.
static, static, static, static.

Putrid, solemn, lazy, Walrus

("Deterred by warmth and affection")
The frozen ocean waits for you.
Beneath a sky so frozen blue.
A cryogenic cell of ice.
A crystal palace to be precise.

The fatty skin will keep you warm.
But of this aspect I must warn.
A horrid sight you are to be.
A monstrous walrus is what they'll see.

Two jagged fangs grow from your jaw.
Three padded flippers instead of claws.
The whiskers will be long and spiny
And your brain and eyes, tiny.

A grotesque howl you will emit.
Lets not forget you'll smell of shit.
Oh, walrus: fat and slow.
You are indeed the king of snow.
But at least the pain of love you'll never know.

The Waring Graves.

How miraculous.
Heaven's exposé.
Why, muttering seems second nature.
Yet laughter comes first.

Baser feelings amidst a longer exposure. Human platitudes like love and unity whither like dried leaves.
Only to be born again when harsh times are past.

The waring graves.
The dead unaware they are dead.
The fighting at a standstill.
The coldness persists.
Space and time decide your fate.
How futile it is.
How futile to think you are alive in the long run of things.
How hopeful we are.

Moloko vellocet

Walk against time,
Consumed elixir of the mind.

Velvet, morose and nonsensical.
The corded arithmetical pondering of beating hearts.
Throbbed ventricle expounded.
Glass in the eye. Sweets in the queue.

Breasts.
Sensual, conditioned.
The warmth of company.
Fear: not withstanding.
Overbearing.
Confusing.
Conflicted but warm all the same.

A warmer smile.
Felt at a distance.
Like an arrow
Cherub archers.
Child soldiers.
God's very own .

This is the way my day ends.
Not with a bang but with a whimper.

Soldier, surgeon, saint. (The witching hour)

Today the last sound of humanity flickers. The silent snicker of a madman.
Prose, with a finger on a button.
Cold, frozen.
Unexpected yet serene.
The greatest gag.
The punchline.
they'll never press the button.

A droning tenure, an outspoken fiend
My loving regret.
Gnawing aneurism.
Crude and adolescent.
The armed guards bleed red.
The poet bleeds blue.
True as the gathering darkness.
White as noise.

Awake,
In a cold bed.
During the witching hour.
Clarity, Clairvoyant, Cleansed.
Not a glimmer of hope.
But eyes wide open.
Tears dried.
Blind in darkness.
No truth to be told.

Asleep for the last time

Ode to Normalcy

The basics; contrived and ineffectual.
The courteous sniping of branched timelines.
The family tree, well regarded, esteemed. Rural and tenacious.
Beached proliferation.
The scoured ocean.
Sandals, Scandals and broom handles.

Today I knew of golden arches.
Today I knew of cupid's sting.
Today, perhaps I will know better.

Miles, Morals, Concentration.
Feet of stoned expectations.
Bury me along the shore.
With hand on heart and nothing more

Cannibals and Hunger pains.

I am told that I am being fed.
Yet my hunger grows.
How could these lies not be filling?
My appetite for knowledge is unsatisfied by these empty calories.
Sophists spoon feed me.
As if I am a child whom could not do it himself. The media shovels putrid slush disguised as a healthy meal. An abortion disguised as caviar.
-------
They sell to you
You want what you like
They sell you it
You consume it
Like zombies in hoards
Mindlessly walking. .
Craving a brain.
Perpetual self consumption.
An Unsustainable existence
You eat
You shit
You eat your shit
You eat, you're shit.
You ate yourself
------
I sit here hungry.
for I would rather starve.

Because so long as I sweat in the summer and shiver in the winter I will forever be aware of my frailty.

Dichotic synchronicity

It is strange. How in an instant we could lose all meaning.
Indeed it is stranger that there is no substance among shadows.

Meiotic concerns, evoked by entitlement.
Delusions of grandeur: uninhibited.
The dichotic growth of aspiration .
Fueled by the search for validation.

The shadows creep slowly.
Their arbitration, sincere.

When I sleep I dream of death and wake at her feet.

Indeed my fear rang true.
And truth rang brightly.
the deaths I dreamt were mine, but not the deaths of my reality.

Ashes, Ashes.

All alone
At the end of the world.

Stars gleamed with clear skies above.
The thundering cheers of a gleeful mob.
Resistance unbound by weary militia.
Court orders bred false flags.
Loop holes within loop holes.
Knots twisted.
Stomach aches.
Knife wounds.
Deep in the back of civilization.

Left to bleed out.
To slowly die like starving penned animals. 

Mistakes made clear.
To die with hope clenched in our fists.

If life is warfare
I am but a pacifist

The 40 day Tirade

I'm so fucking cultured ain't I?
Bare naked, on hostile ground.
Torn from the womb with gaudy abrasion.
The roaring soliloquy of a fostered pet.

A howl at the moon.  

Can you hear me? 
(How it shines upon us.) 
This fraud, this poor imitation.  

(But a flattering one.)
Like a false idol, or a death mask.
This palely drawn still life of godliness.
Who brings unity through vision.
And reflection through the darkness.

Reminding us all what we are on this earth