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Man-Sample01: Stealth-modeWelcome to my world... Please tread lightly, and forgive the mess
When Real Love DiesYou should proceed no more,
beyond this point is a locked door;
neither life nor love may enter as before
Within is the result of God's pain,
equal to the sum total of all Creation,
the very pain that turned an Angel into Satan,
and should you these words read,
note the silence within your own heart and head,
apocalyptic prophesy that fills the pious with dread,
for beyond lies dead faith,
lending the scales of evil new weight,
where eyes are mirrors and deeds are freight
and the Hell-hounds hungrily growl at the gate
So take heed before you go too far,
turn away and seek a new opened door,
for the love that lived here, is no more.
Opening The Third EyeThe head spins as if pickled in wine
and the air is a thick and murky brine
Visions of life in the mind are surreal, sublime,
just as the Gods and Goddesses are present
as the present is in time.
The moment gets lost in the moment
as the selfish tries to own it,
unaware of being unaware of life,
even while enjoying or dreading it
The head spins as if pickled in brine
and the air is a sweet and cooling wine
Visions of life bring love to the mind
and the Gods and Goddesses are present
in all, as the present is in time.
A Girl Had A Baby. (For Jess and Noah)The first outer water to touch his skin,
deep from his mother's joyous heart it came
as they blessed each other with new eyes,
and a new voice from a new soul cries
out into a cold world; a babe warmly recieved
to return the love through love concieved,
and named after one chosen by God,
to abide and persevere through all of life's flood Basking in the AftermathThe mingling of sweat cools in the heat
as breath is hissing and musk is sweet
and the love-field is a bedraggled sheet
as two lie spent in glorious victory
The Haunting GroundFirst I was in my bed,
dreaming about her pretty head
when, as it is in dreams, all changed
At the side door she was,
with grocery bags full of wet clothing
holding on to the knob that wasn't turning,
and in a voice deafening 'let me in let me in,
It's your fault that I'm old and wet and wanting!'
The door she shook and rattled,
till the very house in it's foundation trembled
Where was I? Looking down from Hell so high
when she stopped and turned and whispered goodbye
I awoke then, covered in sweat
and wishing that I could forget
about her pretty little head
that turns sleeping into such dread,
making mortal enemies of me and my bed
where no longer respite can be found,
only a gateway to the haunting ground Memory Of A Non-EventWe stayed up all night
talking now and then,
now and then holding tight
We drank water
and had no other appetite,
talking now and then,
now and then holding tight.
When the sun rose
we were drunk. A Voice From The Digital Wilderness (Sermon from a dark room)Your God put me to stand up for you.
I didn't want to, I didn't choose to.
I suffered many tortures and many pleasures
and lived in poverty and had many treasures
so that I might learn the meanings of everything
that exists while we're living, and provide you this map,
only upon your asking.
I am standing up for you.
I didn't choose to, but I know I need to
I have learned what is revealed only to few:
you exist because of me, and I exist because of you,
and all the answers and life-styles that you are sold
by those who care not for your soul in exchange for gold,
will only help you deny the cause and course of your true reality,
and you can't see future misery in a crowd pretending to be carefree.
I am standing up for you.
He wants me to because He can't do it for you.
Upon creation He gave you free-will, and you have it still,
but you've forgotten the difference between the two sides,
and our common Enemy uses vanity and flattery which hides
from you the true meaning of you, till all you can see is only you,
and all you can hear is what only sounds true, because
acceptance and promotion by many can make any fantasy seem like reality,
but the multitude is never there always, and your consequences they'll never see
So hopefully, while I'm standing up for you, being beaten down by you,
you'll see Him standing up for me, the only one whose will was never free,
and remember that He created you for a different reality,
and not just what they make you see.
(A simple case of not seeing the forest because of the trees).
We Are An IslandThere are no lies in love;
no hand is concealed or in any glove.
Vulnerability is secretly, proudly displayed
with no fear of ever fearing being un-made;
and behold, solid ground on which to stand,
as love makes two an independent island
But beware the conniving tricksters,
the ones on islands all around and within us
They'll make the grass look greener, tis true,
but when time to graze, the hungry will be you,
if you forget that love that united two
Forced To Fade To BlackI've been banished from the realm;
all that I need to live is safely denied inside.
All I can do is sit outside the gates
and cry, and hold my head
and ask why, to no one,
and a mocking sky. Hostile Invasion ( I Lost My Way Of Life)I live up in a tree,
and all around me is majesty
You live in a city,
where everything's just only pretty
Up in my tree, I can see
friends and neighbours and family,
and they can all see me
In your busy pre-fab city, you seldom see
friends and neighbours and family,
all living behind lock and key
Up in my tree,
I whistle with the breeze
as it blows through the leaves,
and I'm happy to just be,
while in your city,
you listen and see what
others want you to feel
and add it to yourself, trying to be real
I'm happy up here in my tree,
and I'm not bothering anybody.
So why do you come here and shoot me
and chop down my tree and tell everybody
that it's what's good for me? Mortal thinkingThe sizzle of the raindrops on the pyre,
and the smell of the smoke from the cooking fire,
filling the air, drifting, spiralling like so many white doves
ascending to heaven with their precious cargo of soul;
a fancy notion of a life lived true to Heaven's goal,
or just vittles for the wind?
17 Seconds Of NostalgiaRemember that day in the park,
ambling down into the evening sun,
our shadows behind us merging into one?
Or afterwards under that oak tree,
embracing and letting our kisses free,
staying entwined till well after dark? A Slow Suicide by Slow MurderI'm not living.
How could I, knowing what I've paid for?
Nothing on earth can ever clear that score
Thirty gruelling turns of the calender taught me all,
and more, but still I answered the call.
I'm not living.
How could I, knowing the symbolism of what I did buy?
To pay so dearly with blood and sweat
to procure for the others what I'll never get,
and more, and now I can neither rest nor forget
I'm not living
How could you or anyone expect me to?
That I did hopelessly love, everyone knew,
and before all this torture, you knew too.
All I did to keep our worlds rightfully or wrongfully apart,
undone by the others living blessed in your heart
I'm not living.
Why did you choose to make me suffer for you?
What did I ever do except be in love with you,
and allow you your free-will without ever decieving you,
or tricking you into a strong but wrong point of view?
Now look what you've let them make you make me do;
I'm letting you kill me, just because I love you. My Soul - A Silent VictimSomeone did something to my soul.
I can't put my finger on it,
but I can feel this life getting cold
I don't know how and I don't know why;
I've always been a quiet, unobtrusive guy
I've done for all, all that I can,
I've forced nothing upon any woman or man,
yet still...
Someone did something to my soul.
I can't put my finger on it,
but I can feel a dark widening hole
I can't say why and I can't say how,
but no restful sleep for over a year now
and my days are no longer tranquil,
and my pencil is like an inkless quill
No ancient cure or modern remedy
is repairing this void expanding inside me,
and I can't mend what I can't see
Someone did something to my soul;
each second and each breath is slow and painful.
Who would do something so awful?
Monday morning, out in the streetI saw Pan on his way to school,
in khaki shorts and blue shirt
on a Monday morning bright and cool,
piping a melody with the birds to flirt
and giggling like a giddy fool
Turning to see me watching him,
I felt a rising warmth within
and Pan flashed a smile so innocent,
it made the very air translucent
"Have a nice day" he said,
and smiled and bobbed his little-boy head
"Together with nature we should all play",
and piping his sprightly melody,
to school Pan skipped away. Cry Rape!!I've been sittin' here thinkin'
while I been sittin' here drinkin'
about what the authourities are doing,
and I'm wondering how come no one's noticing
that they have, in reality, just given up all their rights.
It's like rape if I stick my finger in your ear or mouth,
yet it's now mandatory that, with even the slightest doubt,
the law can pierce your skin and take life's blood out,
and it started by allowing them to take your breath from your mouth
By perverting a well intentioned idea,
an idea meant to keep safe the ones we hold dear,
a spoiled hypocritical society like this that likes the sauce,
would much rather shift focus away from the real cause
of their tragedy, alcohol, available on every street corner,
and sold with the permission and blessing of everyone and their mother.
Who checks the officers that you've given away your rights to every day?
Who's making sure their blood is 100% clean before forcefully taking yours away?
Does anyone understand what I'm trying to say?
If it's assault to touch your skin,
what is it to forcefully take the fluid of your life from within?
And what genetic or other information will they be monitoring?
I hope to God that I'm laying somewhere dreamin'
instead of just really sitting here drinkin',
because I don't like the reality of what I'm thinkin'
Going HungryThere are many segments
making up this circle,
but the slice I liked the best
was taken by the rest
and the circle's scattered and broken,
and now everything's a mess
The oven's going cold
and the dough's stale and old,
and to start cooking from scratch
feels like lighting fires without a match
So I guess I'll just go hungry,
and try to live off of the memory
of the sight and the smell,
and clean up all this mess
from where the other slices fell
and close up this kitchen,
and trudge home wishing
that I was as greedy as the rest. It's Your Fault (Leaders of the World)So many fluttering flags,
so many colourful rags
self-righteously declaring dominions
over mis-led and rampant populations;
herds of self-absorbed grazers,
contentedly led by obfuscating posers
living in mirrors and in the eyes of others
So many rags should be making one flag,
but peace and harmony is such a drag
and the dollar is now life's Salt.
It's your fault.
Life Moves EffervescentThe wheels are in moton
in time's bottomless ocean,
and the froth is churning
while the vessels are burning
and all are being swept asunder,
added to time's inevitable plunder
as multitudinous unfeeling eyes
go un-witnessing disastrous tides,
and time is stalking and not just fleeting
while wisdom is a doomed lamb bleating
within a vessel that's burning,
as time's surface keeps swirling
for life's wheels have never stopped. DiscoveryA drop of water does not knowit's a drop of water while it'sstill a part of the ocean, andjust like the properties of light
are never as apparent as in darkness,
we must remove ourselves from
where we are, to find who we are. Insides Outside ( Gone wrong)That it would show, he didn't realize,
so now he has to hide his eyes
while the elders tell him he looks pale,
the way snow is whiter than hail;
like all blood is being drained away
To that, he doesn't know what to say.
The little ones now just quietly stare,
their innocent joy now some unknown fear;
like that of darkness when lights go out.
At the places he would walk and work and shop,
the nice people there always make him stop
It's impolite and rude they say to talk and listen while looking away,
but when they peer into those eyes
shock is quickly masked by surprise;
like a forgotten happy memory of a dead friend.
Then, it's always the same unanswerable question -
'Hey man..., something wrong?'
Love, True.True love is the sweetest water.
It's being at home no matter where you are.
No human fears and no fleshy desires
can ever quell it's natural fires.
True love has no enemy except doubt;
more devastating than the sun in drought.
Love dies when we let others dim our eyes
and plug up our ears to it's heart-felt cries;
for each heart keeps alive half a soul,
yearning to find the half that makes it whole
True love is the soul's compass.
The universe uses it to guide us;
a divining rod truer than the Dog star
that brings us to our true love, wherever we are. My Friend's Bad Decision (A Mirror's Reflection)It grieves me to look upon my friend
and remember he once was a good man
Look at him, standing there with his chest open
Look and see the vastness of his deepest deeps
and see the jagged cliffs and unscaleable steeps
Look at him. Peer inside the deepest of his deeps
and see the all-consuming desert where nothing creeps,
where the winds howl and moan even as he sleeps.
See the once warm soul shivering now in endless cold
and notice the sweeping darkness consuming him whole
Look at him, but remember, he once was a good man
and that he was also my truest friend,
and that his only sin was mistaking an evil for a good vision Conscientious ObserverSuch a wonderful, ethereal place,
this Planet Earth
So many life forms, all life-long visitors
journeying by birth
Never before, in our known universe,
and likely never again;
Such a grand living assemblage
chattel'd by Homo Sapiens.
Friends and Other StrangersI was out walkng with my friend
on a cool melancholy fall evening
when we happened upon an alien,
standing alone, without concern,
holding a cigarette in his hand,
trying to disguise himself as a man.
Our curiosity aroused at such a sight,
we stopped and asked, so polite,
to share a smoke and a light,
and smoked silently with an alien,
watching as the men and women
walked by into the encroaching night
He finished his smoke quietly,
and snugged up his coat tightly,
then turned to my friend and me
and, so sweetly, whistled us a song
that lasted barely a minute long,
which lifted our spirits; then, he was gone. | |||||||||||||||||
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