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.
Showing posts with label Helena P. Blavatsy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Helena P. Blavatsy. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Saturday, September 6, 2014
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.
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.
Monday, April 22, 2013
Dear Madame Blavatsky
Dear Madame Blavatsky,
It has been quite some time now that you have ascended back into the akashic mist, and still through the street your name can be heard. even though your not physically here your voice is still heard and many of the seeds you planted here have grown into some complex equations solved, and yet your still misunderstood even after science finally caught up to your insights.
From: mental, physical, astral, metaphysics and all you have brought into light for the new age... I still ponder why then some people still slander your name though your "theories" some of which have been proven by mainstream science years later. though you tried to merge the arts, stones are still castes through v-logs on the inter-web, and false media, conspiracies.
I have seen many oddities in my lifetime that I would have loved to have asked your interpretations; I call out in dreams, your name hoping for a glimpse into observation and always end up back at the self reflected in the eyes of others...through them you speak in tongues at times it is hard for me to decipher, and I remember the silence...softly greeting me.
How honest its voice as the glass shatters between hemispheres what really lay beyond the horizon. and I hear her voice again; "The Banshee" calling out my name once again i only see her lips move before she disappears...what was it she said to me? was she the banshee my true mother? of what planet origin was she? and when...or will she ever come back to me?
Or was she a Sylph? and was the orb that wore tentacles a companion or one from a different side? why can I not remember our conversation but the images play in my head like a movie. a silent film I try to read her lips...and I hear the Voice of Silence.
Creativly Yours,
LKCP2KXIII
It has been quite some time now that you have ascended back into the akashic mist, and still through the street your name can be heard. even though your not physically here your voice is still heard and many of the seeds you planted here have grown into some complex equations solved, and yet your still misunderstood even after science finally caught up to your insights.
From: mental, physical, astral, metaphysics and all you have brought into light for the new age... I still ponder why then some people still slander your name though your "theories" some of which have been proven by mainstream science years later. though you tried to merge the arts, stones are still castes through v-logs on the inter-web, and false media, conspiracies.
I have seen many oddities in my lifetime that I would have loved to have asked your interpretations; I call out in dreams, your name hoping for a glimpse into observation and always end up back at the self reflected in the eyes of others...through them you speak in tongues at times it is hard for me to decipher, and I remember the silence...softly greeting me.
How honest its voice as the glass shatters between hemispheres what really lay beyond the horizon. and I hear her voice again; "The Banshee" calling out my name once again i only see her lips move before she disappears...what was it she said to me? was she the banshee my true mother? of what planet origin was she? and when...or will she ever come back to me?
Or was she a Sylph? and was the orb that wore tentacles a companion or one from a different side? why can I not remember our conversation but the images play in my head like a movie. a silent film I try to read her lips...and I hear the Voice of Silence.
Creativly Yours,
LKCP2KXIII
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