in life we face tha inexplicable, and feel helpless. Sometimes in life what we are challenged with what feels so daunting that yea might as well give up and give in. With pressures surmounting in all directions and a feeling of collapse contaminating yea judgement, panic. Fuck up. Make mistakes then live with regret so surmounting that a depressive downhill shit-spiral sets in and you ARE now 1 (one) foot in tha grave. I say FUCK THAT. Then, make music: write songs lyrically, compose songs musically, beat yea damn drum, shred some bass, rip tha guitar or tilt thine head and warble top notch to tha fuckin skies. When this gets tiring, a poetic world is right over that near horizon. So embezzle in its catacombs for awhile and relish in tha splendor. ENJOY...
...SOME POETRY
COSMIC, eh?
Each day I rise and try to smile, yet ~ at WHAT? About what? Any relationship is - at best - a longevic, bona-fide pretense guaranteed to downfall. An ultimate, unavoidable downfall. Pain. Hurt. Suffering. Guaranteed, this is. Not once has a song requested financial imbursement. Not once has a song told me that I am not good enough. Never has a good song failed to raise my spirits. Never has a good song let me down, hurt me, belittled me or stripped me of my possessions. Never has a good song failed to be there for me, or refused me her assistance. A good song goes tha extra step and simply extends tha offer of her assistance. Above any and all aside a small few. Notably, Adrian my father. Man. Animals are like instruments. Handled correctly and treated appropriately they are truly tha most integral, true, loyal honourable companion yea could be blessed with tha pleasure and privilege of accompanying. I smile at tha music. At the trees. At water and sky. At animals, tha sentient beings I shall enjoy my time with. Song sung brightly by tha very sun; herself, relayed down to tha little ladybug; herself, who may be found in song; herself ~ relaying cosmos of tha orbs beauty so divine yea shall envision sound and hear her light so bright and beautiful. Cosmic, eh?
Tha New BeingSurvive singled out-selected. Segregated. Separated.
Solitude, alone; Solitary, alone: So yea tell me Misery. You're unhappiness. Really? So; therefore, a change in yea way o' being ~ change tha very person that you are. So, starting at yea core ~ rearrange every fibre o' yea being. Each and every one now, don't forget them two now :) THERE WE GO, now, then who's a good one then now then, eh? o-hoo-who'd-da-thunk-it... haha |
H ? ? ?
|
How art thou?Hello.
I'm pleased to meet you. Sincerely How art thou? I'm curious simply for I must segment thy soul and enshrine me dark, underground catacombs with thy fragments. Countless are you're new found friends. Selective yea can be with those singled out as thou acquainted, and perhaps befriended. Intended yea seem regarding running away. Typical. Fainting aside, singular. As in, thus far; tha guaranteed choice of action. Tha course ALL people have chosen. Unsurprised by this turn of events I'll simply hang tight until yea run out of breath and stop to catch it then look around. Resolutions profound in tha knowledge of tha fact that i. AM. remorseless. Ringing in tha caverns, "How could you?" Reverberating around tha catacombs thine incessant warble; "Why?...Why?...Why?..." Really, why are they all tha same? It's too. fucking. easy. Within his cemetery, thy soul is harvested. Hallow be thy name. Hollow shell shall flame. Burning and scream, in pain. Yea soul now tumbles as a single. grain. within tha turbine, so tell me How art thou? |
EX-cedes-US:
Relevant reasoning requires relative resolution.
Resolution of an ever turbulent mind.
Grind goes gears.
Mash me marbles.
Magnify my might.
Tee till tethered turbulence transforms tyranny.
Tyranny tears torturous, torrential ~ and powerful ~ organizations.
Change intended factions.
Factions dedicated to tha demise of tyranny.
Apart from tha herd. Separated, morally surpassing...
tha flock.
who do NOT sea as monkey do as monkey
robotical
thoughtless
monotonous
stationary
HOWLING and...
HOWLING...and...HOWLING
at tha faceless, white moon;
reserved in her attribution, ovulation, verses
half-hazardous-HALT.
at tha lines end.
repeat...
Resolution of an ever turbulent mind.
Grind goes gears.
Mash me marbles.
Magnify my might.
Tee till tethered turbulence transforms tyranny.
Tyranny tears torturous, torrential ~ and powerful ~ organizations.
Change intended factions.
Factions dedicated to tha demise of tyranny.
Apart from tha herd. Separated, morally surpassing...
tha flock.
who do NOT sea as monkey do as monkey
robotical
thoughtless
monotonous
stationary
HOWLING and...
HOWLING...and...HOWLING
at tha faceless, white moon;
reserved in her attribution, ovulation, verses
half-hazardous-HALT.
at tha lines end.
repeat...
Destined Depths:Never-ending, unending systematic unravelling.
Groveling at finding tha truth are Yea? Wallowing down low are yea? Are yea downcast? Relax Cheer up Rise up with tha Knowledge that yea fortunes arise. Rise up and tha bar raised :) Yea hopes shall show That as lights grow Sew to reap Crop to keep Cheer down deep deep down depths depths down low. How low down ~ can yea go? SailingMind racing Heart pacing
uncertain I tell yea Gyrating hope aching benched in discreet trenched in tha street Blind raving, start hating myself for this feat my wealth in the street myself in this seat Grind slaving Road paving Entrenched in mis-feat in failed no-hitta-beat A mis-beats off time treat Next fleeting is failing I'm grooving again ~ SAILING |
Run:Apoplectic with rage o' this abomination doest seem.
O' released from her cage this abhorrent demon doest scream. O' she's bin pent up an age of this abrupt freedom has dreamed. Inauguration aside, yea'd best GET OUT HER WAY run away, get along. Please do what I say lest this be thine last, and FINAL day. Run... Shit Spiral Sadistic:Torrential, yet horrendous that abysmal impending
doom it is coming, it shall seem never-ending soon we'll all be running, all screaming our ending it's hurting, it's rending and tearing, it's searing My insides are screaming tha pain it's UN.END.ING |