Sleep Walkers

 Sleep walk into the slumber, Hive sleeps the brood soothsayer Mephistopheles meditates on shores of the Columbia river. Sipping from the eternal rain ship wrecked debris of sacred. Scribed runes on elder Oaks, they guard this sacred land. Sworn to Oath in its misery' we shan't remain silent. Tweaked out of minds, out of body experience we merge as one voice to get nothing done once again, we pray to our lord Procrastination. Then one day 9 years later you seam to be struck by sunlight through a different dew drop lens televised intelligence and the roots remain pure as sacred flesh of Liberty. When we awoke midsummer eve deep in the land of fairies, we rode panthers in-search of blue rings. Once that was found what we once seek, wisdom's passed down turn to ash in the records of knowledge...back into the slumber we are all sleepwalkers.

Torn

Torn between lies, journalistic mafia media hype your Wars are my Freedoms. Free from pieces of mind scattered by opinions. 

We shared tears, we shared laughter, we shared your misery yet it still feels like your being raped, while "living the good life".

Why raise taxes, and not awareness, to questions? 

By the people for the people once had minions, obey the dying breathes of demons as skeletons remain locked in plasma screens. 

As we are left to ponder in demise of all this confusion, seeking truth on YouTube as a substitute to the madness we are left with the hordes who Shepherd Foxes... 

LKCP2KXIV

Snowflake

Is it poison?
or just a flame.
Coursing through veins,
feeling
it
crawling
out from within.

Like shards of snowflakes,
frost bitten

within hollow glass tubes.
A puff of smoke may...

turn inner demons.

A
Labyrinth, 
some say.

Thoughts create their own
     book of shadows.

They speak,
Shh...the Silent Tongues

pages

into the depths..
go
These explorers.

They seek the...
Alchemical Whispers of
Insomniax Doktrine,

For it holds no wisdom.

Echos of shattered truths.

Eternal, we wander...
in search of wonders.

Unearthed.

Captured,

within it's pages.

1 million thoughts...

 One million thoughts drowned the megalithic crown that ruled the land of linguistics. Text message terrorists confused the youth of it's language. They began to loose art of conversation while trapped in digital worlds, of light and vibration. Whats the use of vocal cords when you can read and try to emulate emotion through letters on a small screen. a customized tone for the bell, toning sanctuary a reminder that we are not in misery.

 We spent decades trying to master the art of telepathy just to be distracted by cell phonic frequency, but we remain a glitched freak in the system. Trying to find methods of communication with inhabitants, consumed by holy spirits. The answers are sealed within relics and pigments from centuries old when once one finds the essence of word is no longer bold.

 When true emotions get lost in translation text messages fail to convey ripples of silence,
 broken by ring tones.

Cyclops that dwells deep within

Eyes flutter back into my head.
my skull crumbles into shattered pieces,
shards glare in eternal light,
my knees collapse like twin towers.

Another child born in a cardboard box,
Pondering why is trashitarianism,
is a new fad, or just a new way to starve her people.

Just another yellow brick in the road,
chanting we built this city on rock and roll,
for the other bricks in the wall.

I would shout as loud as I could,
if I thought it mattered, You agreed
so we shouted together just to watch,
the earth stand still.

We sit and spin more webs of souls,
bound together woven in blood and bone.

DNA,
scribes the thresh hold.
forgotten names we are never told.

When we wake in the deep, deep, sleep.
The whole story unfolds, nor questions nor answers,
nor glories, nor faith...will compare to its blissfull
blindness...to be forgiven, knowing there is nothing to forgive.

When we awaken this Cyclops that dwells deep within us all...

LKCP2KXIV

Selfie

Am I dreaming?
Or sleep walking into madness which sees no end.
Descend from the heavens thoughts seemingly to sink deep into the earth,
insanity seems to be a part of the ascent.
Walk backwards into history repeat itself beyond doorways...
Beyond the finger tip lies a self, its mind hidden deep in caverns holding secrets, flowers grow, we observe silent wings flashing in night skies.
Why are you me, am I even true to myself muzzled by the gloom foot steps echoing the past as we wander into the present state of presence.
Wind chimes fertilize destinies purity of soul when all else has been forgotten.
Mocking which can not be seen, is like praising gods that answer no prayers.
Dwell in the bellows.
Remember.
self.

Sandles

 Slipped on my shoes into another dimension, where does the sidewalk end... Mind bending events unfold throughout transparent mysteries.
 We have seen the doktrine possess self bound within its pages crept,
silently awaken from shutter-less slumber.
 The Ironies we seek and blind to all its answers we never question authority.
 The only sanity left is the rancid world we still churn to this day praying for a day the ocean is no longer flammable.

 One by one the cards lay out on the table. I, DE, Claire, war.
 The church which was once a symbol of sanctuary is now a Trojan horse,
as dictators recite verses from the Reganomicon.
 Burnt, Hung, Drowned, and Tortured the witches spell its new age.
 Resurrection grim-ores of this new Wisdom while others call it madness...

 the journey through 9 hells.

 LKCP