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Oculi Mar 2019
The sun in the sky of an eternal night
The tractor swings and misses today
The drums are hit every day in anticipation
The butterfly's wings torn off and put on
The daily struggle of a pastor in modernity
Dying to go back to how life used to be

A monolith opened from dying sheep
A droning, long, darkened figure came
He took all the belongings of modern man
And left as quickly as he came, leaving ruination
The ruination spread through the world
And as the figure left, all our souls did, too

The pastor had prepared for this day, though
As all his sheep gathered into a herd...
He saw what had to be done and took off
The sheep, cried after their owner that night
But the man could not be swayed anymore
He took his gun and his scythe and his armor

In a world ever so confused, the pastor stuck out
Looking for something that wasn't there.
He saw gates of elected darkness and phantoms
He saw drops of rain be every color and none
He saw man become animal and **** one another
He saw buildings morph into pure liquid LSD

The bat wings on his back grew bigger evermore
And his eyes kept getting darker and darker
His head kept singing in liturgical Latin
And the grasp on his scythe kept getting weaker
But that was all okay, because he still had a goal
And once he found the Gate, it would all be fine

It went like that for what seemed like years
But in reality it was just a few days, maybe a week
His feet got more and more tired by the day
And by the fourth day, all he saw was the night
The prophet's words rang in his head forevermore
"Where is the night? Where is the Gate? Where, oh?"

By the time he'd reached the other world, too late
He had become a creature of darkness, himself
Ruining the world in his path step by step, he did
And when he stopped to take a breath, he felt weak
Little did he know, he was in fact stopping forever
And that he wouldn't find the man, but vica versa

On the 21st of June, an bystander found an old man
Breathing heavily, desperately looking all over
The old man seemed like he was 200 or more
His speech was slurred and hard to understand
The bystander took him to a hospital, where he spoke
Out loud, he said "I forgive you, brother."
Brent Kincaid Apr 2018
I’m goofing with the pixies
Dancing with the elves
Leaving all the ogres
Snoring by themselves.
I’m flying with the will-of-the wisps
On the route of Santa Claus.
I rest a while on a passing cloud
Whenever I need a pause.

There’s lots of space you can freely share
When you are playing in castles in the air.
First you have to get that high on the *****
To launch yourself off with a wish and a hope.
Some lose because they don’t know the ropes
Or not keeping their vision in their scope.

I love to see imaginary friends
And smoke with the pipe dreams
While floating up and down
Along the flow of creative streams.
The idea is to set your mind free
To roam wide and as far as can be
Laughing with characters from the funnies
Or rollicking fun with egg laying bunnies.

There’s lots of space you can freely share
When you are playing in castles in the air.
First you have to get that high on the *****
To launch yourself off with a wish and a hope.
Some lose because they don’t know the ropes
Or not keeping their vision solidly in the scope.

So, look for the wiggle wobbles near you
And keep your eyes open for witches too.
Magicians may also come from time to time
Because making magic is never a crime.
Listen to the stories told by clever mimes;
The enchanting mysteries in their rhymes
That often turn out to be the most sublime.
And let that person know you have the time.

I love to see imaginary friends
And smoke with the pipe dreams
While floating up and down
Along the flow of creative streams.
The idea is to set your mind free
To roam wide and as far as can be
Laughing with characters from the funnies
Or rollicking fun with egg laying bunnies.
Benjamin Mar 2018
Jefferson Airplane performed
Let Me In.

It worked as a silent call
For those, who never heard it

From young women
- men watching, listening.

But their soul did
shout it with
tremendous joy,

in denial of all those
sentences of

Let Me Go.
Liliana Lopez Mar 2017
Psyche--the soul
In a wave of abstract art
Living in one infinite painting
of dizzying swirls
The soul? It
Frolics in its hallucinations
In its nightly hallucinations
Dreams that don't come true
They are only in
MY
     MIND
A vague psychedelia is this life
Because I walk, and I hear you
Calling my name
I fall asleep in what to me
Is your arms
In actuality only emptiness.
In the uncertain blur between
Sleep and Wake, I
am FALLING
from my dreams
I feel everything rushing past me
As I fall and I feel pain, out of breath
When I crash,
Fell from my bed, yet I landed
There as well.....And my eyes open
Wide with shock.

The spiders crawl all over me
And I am afraid, those nights I
CAN'T SLEEP
When you were here, you would
Comfort me, your words would
hold me, so close, so tight
And all my fear was gone,
Only love, your love, my love,
OUR LOVE.
But it is gone.
So I feel them alone.

Abstract painting...
I live there! Where all the
Colors blur, I can't even name them.
It makes my head hurt, my heart,
My very SOUL feel an icy chill.
You, my love, are no longer here
To melt my winters.
So all my symphonies,
My poems, HUMANITIES
Are kept to myself now;
They are alone.
And I live in psychedelia.
Xan Abyss Dec 2015
When you found me, I was lost
Dying from withdrawal
And your sick absolution
Hooked me worst of all
My blood burns without it
Body hurts without it
Heart Infernal, wounded
Hate is Love, Fermented

Wicked Angel!
***** of God!
Wicked Angel!
In my blood....

Wings of Love-Stained Velvet
Sing the lies of devils
Grace, befouled and hellish
Kiss with deadly venom
He who loved you is dead
Bonds lie broken, rusted
Despite all your trying
Your divine light is dying

Wicked Angel!
***** of God!
Wicked Angel!
In my blood....
lyrics.
Prana Moonshine May 2015
The silence,
Haunting light
Illuminating tunnels
Terror’s teeth.

Horror is a face
The disaster, a cat!
Smiling with sharpness
Fangs hungry for blood

Calling:

“more”.

But that’s a crazy thought
Cat curled up with stripes
Lines and lives that fade the grid
Cruelly wound around
It's branch:

A deep hum and sly laughter:

Hands on cheeks
Mouth open

Fading, languid
Grasping, gaping
Giving up -
*“we’re all mad here”
Sam WG Apr 2015
Hey ** don't you know
I've got a stitch for you to sow
Call me in the morning I'll be out of bed
Oh yes, "You can never get too much rest!"
Half a day working at the circus
How about we juggle an English breakfast, side of French Toast
Tie my lace and tighten my waist
I'd hate to have to save face, before the birds have barked

I can't wait to see you next evening
You know I might jump off the swing early
Hit the ground running
so you won't see me coming
Well anyway I've ruined the surprise now haven't I
But anyhow hey **, it was wishful thinking
I'll still step-stone through the snow
And you know it'll melt like it always does
This is me doing my best (well, the first time I've tried) to write lyrics like Syd Barrett. By the way it's supposed to be recited like a nursery rhyme would, it doesn't sound right if you don't make it a right old song and dance kind of tune. It could be longer but I'm going to bed so I'll just post it as it is.
Gigi Tiji Oct 2014
The tone is a human,
a human is a being,
and a being,
is a tone.
The tone is a being.

When one human sings,
they create a tone.
A tone that carries
all tones within.

When two humans sing,
they create two tones.
Two tones that carry
all tones within.

They are making love,
They are making a harmony,
and the harmony
is a child.

The union of two,
the child carries all
the vibrations of one,
and all of the other.

Every harmony carries
all harmonies within.

The child is one,
The child is twice one,
The child is half of each,
and infinitely more than none.

The harmony is a child,
and the child sings.

The child is human,
and the human grows.

When a human sings
they create a tone.
This tone carries
all tones within.

The tone is a being.

The being is one,
The being is twice one,
The being is half of each,
and infinitely more than none.

Each being carries all beings within.

When the being sings,
it creates a tone,
this tone carries
all tones within.
Each tone sounded
carries all tones within itself.
As the fundamental tone vibrates,
so do the proportional overtones it creates.

An entire string vibrates.
Within that length,
1/2 the string vibrates,
1/3 vibrates,
1/4, 1/5, etc...
Divided into infinity.

(You can find the harmonics on a guitar string in these fractions.)

This is the shared source of all living beings.
This is the harmonic series.
This is birth and death.
This is one single tone.
This is you and me.
This is Om.

Birth, crescendo, diminuendo, death.

This is breath.
Anastasia Webb Aug 2014
pretty little sticky thing caught my tongue
and I think it’s time to come clean
and wipe down my benches
with fake lime liquid particles
and faded yellow cloths.

twisted the blue plastic out of my teeth,
wiped the mustard from my lips
(was laid on too thickly anyway)
popped the fishscales out from my eyes,
smiled.

let the rose water run thick and hot
in the bathtub, let in flow in and out
of all my cavities, like it and I were
almost one
(I’m already so much rose water
anyway),
opened my flabby mouth and swallowed.

pretty little green thing got stuck in my tongue.
time to come clean.
oh dear. need an early night.
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