Essence of Mercy
Welcome to the blog of thoughts that emerge through journey while scrying akashic abyss of the silence. Visions seen in inscence smoke, I scribe these writtings with my electronic stone tablet in modern times we call mobile phone...
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
Insomniax Doktrine Vol. 1
Saturday, October 4, 2014
Who?
Have you ever wondered what you are? why you were, or even
there...from where do we become. When since birth we are taught to fear,
ones own reflection. I walked outside for the first time in 10 years
yesterday and it felt like astral projection but tell me why I walk by
all neighbors in silence. Yet here we are left wondering why it is much
easier to hold a conversation in the grocery store, with a complete
stranger via mobile...serene.
What is this toxic stench in the air that surrounds my being like second hand smoke stacks of boiling cabbage. I seen a Opossum flip its stomach inside out as children hung upside down from monkey bars swinging...back and fourth singing. While we spun on the Mary-go-Round, hailing scriptures raising road kill from the depths of the heavens.
Call fourth the birds from 9 hells pitiless ens-amble... Sounds of the crypts Apocalypse soothed from lips of our leader, Thoughtless children shed no tears living amongst the living, walking with the dead. She rode a seahorse into the sunset and whispered to the trees her fantasy of making love to sea turtles. And you ask me again. Who are you? I have no answer to something I cannot even fathom.
http://lostrefugees.blogspot.com
What is this toxic stench in the air that surrounds my being like second hand smoke stacks of boiling cabbage. I seen a Opossum flip its stomach inside out as children hung upside down from monkey bars swinging...back and fourth singing. While we spun on the Mary-go-Round, hailing scriptures raising road kill from the depths of the heavens.
Call fourth the birds from 9 hells pitiless ens-amble... Sounds of the crypts Apocalypse soothed from lips of our leader, Thoughtless children shed no tears living amongst the living, walking with the dead. She rode a seahorse into the sunset and whispered to the trees her fantasy of making love to sea turtles. And you ask me again. Who are you? I have no answer to something I cannot even fathom.
http://lostrefugees.blogspot.com
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
Song
If I could write a song that would make Peace real,
Then I would write that piece for you,
To Sing.
To bring happiness to children's heart's...
and Tears of joy...to their eyes.
If I could write Lyrics, to Turn your Fears,
into...
Madness, To compose,
Who...are...you?
Does it depend,
on which Looking glass we sit?
Since way back when we have always been,
Mad here.
Sipping on another Cup of Tea,
Hearts bleed, for the voiceless...
How do they scream, Pondering...
but are we even listening?
Twin Suns Rise fifteen minutes Apart,
And set at the same time,
on the opposite sides of the planet...
Eclipse the equinox descents of stardust.
Mimic the solar system,
as we grow lost in thought,
when All...
was once clearer.
We turned off the radios that only,
Played the same 5 songs...
and Turned up the Silence.
Which was then the only Song that made sense...
The only sound which knows,
"Peace"
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