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Poetic Collection 2


Lounging in darkness
accompanied by my companion of solitude
My development left unhindered

Acheiving great levels of wisdom
I'll be free of bondage from
society, transparent to its dimensions

Your eyes will never expierence what is so tangible to mine
My breath will carry but a roar
of inaudible whispers.

My breath shall circumvent the globe
only few will pause to observe
the most obscure, obviously present wonders
of a hermit

Horse of a Different Color:

Grazing my forest of tranquility
the trees with rings of smoke whisper and comfort me
the creek cackles harmonic melodies of life
the sun bathes our lives of light
the winter ensures our continuation
our families are of strong hemp bonds
endearing and strong from the smallest fiber
my hooves glide with respect upon the carpeted lands
skin of strength ensures my beauty
and my bones of tenacity ensure my strength
and the forests echo with laughter...

My eyes scream of horror when the great enemy appears
apes of iron and fibers of oppresion strip the sky of any earned respect
the forest burns with turmoil
and the apes of iron are delighted with our capture

My comrades and I are herded
The gates of the wood pay no homage to any great colt or beautiful mare
nor would they nurish our ponies or our beloved fillies
the wheeled machine mocks us with the prescense of our own kind

My eyes have cried like no other passionate moment they have witnessed
our arab brothers imprisoned, no longer will they sprint with glory on the steppes of spirit
exonarated fillies molested by common swine
young colts beaten
holy geldings no longer treated with respect

Cold blooded they dub us
expected to nurish the ape society's needs
packed side by side
our strength admired with fear
our meat enjoyed even more

The apes of iron ship us to exotic lands
exonarated by the people of the warm seas and angry sea storms
utilitarinism imposed upon us by the people of the cool seas and damp island
Our geldings admired for the purity
for their meat
Our colts schooled in the art of blind obidence
Our mares motivated to extend the species

One more day of utilitarnism
One more day of slaugther
One more day of life

Title: Inhuman Institutes of Nations

Trumpets aloud and the organs playing
my mind is in motion and I am ready
I'll tell you my story, brother

stately institutions
asking for my allegiance
pledging and bowing to those I hold no value to
my value and respect is earned, not to be given
or guaranteed by a master's degree

with the structure and molded cirriculum
I can see them wallowing at the watering hole
pre-molding my destiny and articulating what is best
however, foolish of them..
forgot to solve for "x", you forgot the individual

human rights abolished and I will ask
may I relieve myself?
will I be able to voice my opinion?
may I quench my thirst?
Why such questions? my texts tell me, 130 nations and a third
have adopted, a human rights deceleration
what happened to this institution? is it not residing in the greater land of my nation?
the nation that heralded such an event..

Conformity induced, the prodigies used as blocks
blocks of buffers and unpaid workers
lined up and measured with four choice questions
never to be explored and only meant to be used for

My devious overlord, why hath you been infuriated?
Have I wrecked a wrong, that I may not right?

Executively following orders and enforcing
you will not question the greater authority
and this is where I laugh, and mock
your structure of foolishness and conformity

I laugh and bellow and I am silenced
Not by a blade, nor a saber
nor a revolver, nor a contemporary device of pain

(change tempo)

I am instructed to go home, bussed and transported to my oasis
finally it is my turn, I step off and I walk that mile
and a third

I am to my oasis, I relieve my self, quench my thirst..
relieve my thoughts of frustration

Taking my magic box of information, I ponder.. what shall I pull out?
my mind taken aback and I am bonded
by my own freewill
roaming about the great expansiveness of my nation, filled with information
filled with free thought and discussion

I have increased my knowledge, and stature ten fold

(change tempo)

Now its time to rest, turn your box off, tuck your covers
feed the cat, feed the dog, have your milk
Tuck yourself
be ready for a day
the day of your overlords and your fellow inmates and the guards
a day filled with such conformity, structure, and chaos

(change tempo)

Its time and I see it again
the voices of dracula and organs echo into my mind
I see my ride, the "RollsRoyce of darkness"
the night morning crackles about and snarls
scorning me for being such a fool to take such a path!

Here I am
Here I lie
Here I rest and I will be

Here I am at school again.


As I linger unto this institution
I but cannot help bear the ear
that will listen to the echos
of creed sent accross

With these unorganized dogs roaming accross, dead eyed with a purpose
You will see as I see
these dogs shall be mass produced and shipped to the track

With their overlords belching and gleefully laughing, as the dogs work the cogs
and the wheels of the enclosed capsule of life

I'll be there with my elixir and my black-steel crowbar
ready with but a moment's chance to jam
this damned cause
Ever killing your hounds


an island yearns
sea torn and scathed with the battles of storm keep
an island yearns

the tunes of the pianist are echoed
a ray of light shines upon the island
an island of a thousand battles screams in agony

an island of a thousand battles thrashes its energy
violent overtures of emotions are composed
ash and rock are the inhabitants of the sky

poisnous gas looms upon the island
no ship shall wish to pass
no armada shall dare to entice this island of a thousand battles..

an island yearns
sea torn and scathed with the battles of storm keep
an island yearns

the tunes of the guitarist ensure
the tunes of the pianist echo throughout this land of enchanted turmoil
castles of strife and black towers efface this once enchanted oasis

fortresses of the empire oppose any phalanx of good will
sea fortresses oppose those of bearings
the sky of the gods forbade

an island yearns
sea torn and scathed with the battles of storm keep
an island yearns

A vibration of a thousand cracks is heard
A vibration of a thousand beats is echoed
the portal impregnated..

an island yearns
sea torn and scathed with the battles of storm keep
an island yearns

Molten rocks and the looming gas of destruction arise
the black towers are struck down with the bolts of a thousand hammers of light
the fortresses no longer of stone are lay sieged by the phalanx of rebellion

an island yearns
sea torn and scathed with the battles of storm keep
an island yearns

a goddess of enchantment arises from the springs of creation
her eyes hurt from understanding
her cauldron of compassion burns the whip of the oppressor

new grasses of progress eminate
new sounds of laughter echo throughout the lands
new liquids of the nexus carress the land
mountains of history compliment the new horizon

a monolithic structure rises from the sea
iron, bronze, and steel walls of glory reflect the horizon's compassion like a mirror
the island overcome with revelation

the letters of a scribe guard the portal of the structure
the letters of a scribe entice the island
the letters flow to the island
an engraved tablet reads "Self"

an island yearns
sea torn and scathed with battles of storm keep
an island yearns

Welcome to the Marchine:

Barren wastelands of the parchment
bleeding hearts of a poet no longer dance with each stroke
the wind carries a song of foul fragrance
the tree of philosphy stands no longer

the flowing staircase of mathematics no longer paints
the flowing staircase is no longer a medium for the
heart. Gabriel's staircase is in ruins.

Cold nights and stone eternal companions
where no humdity dances in the wind

No longer will drama play on its
stage of time
the curtains will close, draping over the dead faces of the actors.
the seats will scream for fullfillment, and be starved
No longer are the halls of the opera cushioned with the sweet auora of coorelating melody

And the remaining shall suffer for eons
the sheep will be left to wonder
Where did weo go? Should our hearts be trusted, to,
the voice in the box?

Welcome to the machine. Barren. Cold. All because Jonny and Susie needed to be "protected"

Welcome to the machine

Ask your flowers, pets, and swine
including your blade and exposed flames.
Will we find it? Are we lost? Are we of a grand purpose?

Go forth and cradle the vines, ask with your bare hearts, and thoughts.

Learn to open, the doors of the medias.

Many have echoed cries of the insuing danger.

Listen to them, or welcome yourself to
the machine


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