Gathering
The dust and flames from fast recall
Smothering
All the thoughts and prayers you call
Blasting
Winds through canopy to embers fall
Leaving
Nothing untouched anymore
Gathering
The dust and flames from fast recall
Smothering
All the thoughts and prayers you call
Blasting
Winds through canopy to embers fall
Leaving
Nothing untouched anymore
How about a sip from my cup boy,
A simple little thing
You need not think that I am trying to real you in.
Its made from the peel of an orange and a little courage,
Not a thing you need worry about, I have no doubt
Drink it up, see its just like stout
Just a sip, thats all it takes, for the thing to have its grasp
You can’t give it a name, but it owns your soul
Give into its lure, line, hook, and in the cold
It will warm you up
Keep you high
then send you down to sigh
and start singing the simple line
How about a sip from my cup boy,
A simple little thing
You need not think that I am trying to real you in.
Sin upon sin
from within you mind
comes this desire for you to get higher
drink a little more from my cup
and you will know more about yourself than anyone could ever like
just a sip thats all it takes
will you break, will you shatter
against all the odds, will you not matter?
you try and fight it, but you soon find that another sip is all you need
you can’t deny it
just try it!
and your gone, never to be found, down into the ground
it in you now, and you can’t let it go
one thing alone can set you free, and I doubt you can pay the fee…
Open your bowls
Three carrots sticks old
Sky soy and rolls
Badly shouted miso soup
Gravy made in glass droop
Close your forks
Rat tongues fried with pork
Devils justify their lords feast of course
Breeze says me
Best come in three lot
Today, tomorrow, yesterday needs
What from this do you hope to achieve?
Can you describe sixty things you have done in the past that demonstrates this?
Are you a robot?
I’m not, but I am,
the product of but social and physical learning and conditioning within…
Instead they ask
I’m a yes but I’m a no
Strong my human blood flows
Can you describe?
Describe
How
You
Are?
But I’m just one person
One thing
A object but not
Money in the bank bank
Food in my fridge
Dream it learn it be it
it it it IT
Shorts working
Saturday morning car drive
History and my sigh
Feisty gritty remake
Watch it now
Again, binge
Consume
Create
Change?
Trolley lives in a allotment empty of grace
She waits for the summer nights for her race
Trips to the arthropods doorstep
Eats lunch with the queen, oh yes
Buggy sapience
Trolley gives a simple box of nuts
Payment for protection from buggy mace
Sips tea and nods agreeing sets
Going back home to bed, so wet
Buggy sapience
Trolley takes her axe to another growth of jinx weed
Sees the nuts from it gather on grounds she is pleased
Kid, it’s not a dream, you bet
Flames of the devils have come among us, first tickling then stabbing at our every pore jarring it future open. Blistering blood floats to the surface bringing with it further heat as if it’s been equally possessed by demonic charge.
—-
Tightly she squeezes, the serpent of winter. Sucking all the heat from the land into her body like a black hole, scaring the landscape with her frosty tendrils, and taking with her the heat. She will lay an egg mid winter and the devils will find it with their heat and incubate it, when it hatches again her daughter will scour the land in her place. Her death and corpse will lead to spring, and be turned to ash in summer. One day though, her body will not die, her daughter will not be born, the devils will not come back, as the frost envelopes the land allowing her to suck all heat forever.
Five bottles sitting in the rim
Made of earth, made of glass, spun from of wood, grown from faith, free of sin
full of the flowers of the kings, each dripping with sweet honeydew scent within
pretend they contain your deepest dreams, see the silky skin
the heat, Softness, Full to the brim
I grasp at sunlight to spread upon that skin, to bring it to life, as gaze again
Shock to my scene, a wasp comes in, hoping to score a part of this gorgeous place. It soon brings all of its friends, and they make a neat nest and again I can not be here anymore
Five bottles no longer filled to the brim
The honeydew skilled all over the rim
Spoiled earth, broken glass, burnt wood, chained faith, coated with sin
Eating all the clouds
Breaking all their moister
Mawl down the lighting and the ice
Filling bellies full of watery vice
Brace, riding this carrion is hard
They eat their way scaring the sky
They are serving tea and biscuits in the first class cabin
Damn
Blue the distance
Convergence we gather/crosses we shatter
I wish I was bulletproof on the tune player
Does it matter? Rafters/plots pantomime horse slayer
Cram
Leave this wish ant
Apple tastes, butter grace/fly buzzcut shone in the race
Moon kisses her mace. She wields it with all her grace
Flavour/silver bottle dies in a haste
Stamp
Is that a quote from Immanuel Cant?
I’m on my way down to galaxy hall the meeting place of devils and gore
In the blustery palls sits every kind of horned beast of flamed saw
And while I yawn my mothers calm breaths and the seas dark depths I am all gone
For about this place, is a bezel and grace that you’d not think would be adore
Flames along the way, and a marshal of the rammer army
Playing hellish beats, and frying golden meats in the kitchen for the feast
I’m starting to feel welcome and safe which I did not expect to be a part of such a place
I’m here now and must be making the best I can
Kill the message.
Kill the messenger.
Murcury is not death, though
His is as deceiving as any one can tell
A theith and a lair, Larunda will not tell though
For cutthroat Jupiter hastily cut out her tounge
You may think, that Murder has beseeched the messenger of the gods
You forgot they are just as tricksy as us if not more
But what else is a god, but the very hardened psychosis of us poorly mortals
1. I’m just as bad as all of the rest
Telling the truth today
It’s just a featherweight fighting for rate
Getting the bell because it’s used
Stony sand and a beer in a half pint
Singing with motorcycles blooms
Chorus:
But I don’t see how
Rick and his brother still love
It’s all 9 hells and a few more to quell
Just down and down and down and down
2. I’m just as hurt as the man in the pond
Shooting up black opium
Hark the herald devils singing you home
Warehouse spaces left empty
Homeless emotions see the memory
Murder distance from trendil energies