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...
Monday, December 2, 2013
Nightshade Daydreams
of the imortal soul,
I have listened,
to the Banshee speak in tongues...
I have been possessed,
by ghost from all spectrums.
beyond the night,
beyond centers of stars,
beyond the 7 gates...enter the minds eye.
drift into shakti abyss,
find the center of self...
reflected in the black waters of night.
deadly nightshade daydreams,
walking on thin air,
listening to sylphs,
conversate with elves.
contemplating
the balance,
of what
is that
which
is above.
LKCP2KXIII
Monday, May 13, 2013
Hexology
Heathens they cried as countless men & woman of sciences get stoned and burnt at the stake for knowledge of hidden secrets.
Under the noon lit skies and witching hours of the dusk moonlight...
Which way does darkness begin do spectra of light ever end...
Transcending dancer's reaching starlit centers of galaxies beyond subconscious minds eye's.
When will the owls decipher all deceptions of the arts of war...
The true God's embrace the battles within inner space reflections of grace upon the worlds without.
When souls see no matter upon illusions.
LKCP2KXII
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Legendary Status
Some Go Madd, others Go blind, a few commit suicide, while others Design.
In these hour's I step into the red sea...crossing by way the rings of Saturn.
Until the dawn raises the dew to glisten as light shed upon, these new creations the witching hours bred.
Liberty caps stretching out to eclipse the moon, its gills release spores into akashic winds...spreading magic touched by the breathe of the Sun...
Dresses emerge from the fields to caress the light of the sun, in search for it's host.
And somewhere out amongst the concrete and spit...rumors still causing whispers in the playgrounds.
About his silver thread, in order to fully extract the maddness, and evoke dreams into designs...
Count Mezuesta, used only the finest threads made of hair, from his own head.
And if you are ever walking in the streets of pioneer square Seattle and listen closey while the city sleeps...
You can hear his shears softly snipping carried by the winds.
LKCP2KXIII
