This is how it will happen, you will burn all your copy written captions then out of the smoke and ashes you will pledge allegiance to the Phoenix Dragon...

A toast to all the ladies who held the torch,
While I walked down life's dark winding path.

Who would have known he would ever expose what he knows in flows that would reach both poles of the globe..

Surrounded in Stonehenge
me and my powerful brethren friends
wield a magical techno-sorcery blend
to start a cabal of enlighten men

Our hymns transcend,
We have cocooned from the lowest of them,
You wouldn't comprehend all the hours I've spend wrestling with my pen so it could obey my every whim.

"Out of nowhere—there, suspended in air,
The Ivory King in his floating chair,
From an unblemished citadel of octillion prayers.
Descending alabaster stairs,
Snow-white orbs drift everywhere,
Piercing my soul past flesh and layers—
A presence so vast, I can’t help but stare…
And feel scared."

She destroyed the
world I lived in,
forgive her, never.
Memories to painful too forget,
Too painful to remember.

I broke a million pens copy-writing
all these gems

Lips slightly apart,
senses become sharp,
my eyes go dark
before I kiss you
with  all the energy in my heart.
The equation of a sum
or as hot as the surface of the sun
when our souls become one.

In Rome inside the Vatican's catacomb's,
I made a  philosopher’s stone from knowledge of old,
Paranormal activities have me in the zone,

At home I extract genetic code from bone,
The Mad Doctor Doppelganger has made his own clone,

"Bolts of lightning jolt his dome,
Frankenstein moans as he shakes his bones.
Magic and medicine fuse skin with soul,
Warming his heart, reanimating the cold—
Then watch him rise from dead horizontal pose.

"Bombshell Jezebel,
If drowning in wine is all you do well,
Then Mr. Ha(hey)-zues flips water into Zinfandel."

The captains logs
are a catalog of
binary beats and
bars,
The grim wars of grimoire,
Peace and brawls and my
most technical so far,
How the birth of stars grow from curious fogs have an effect on us all through gravitational laws.( gravity and aging)

"Midnight visits of protoplasmic
Spirits from Mount Olympus" is just a snippet of the exquisite lyrics your brain cortex couldn't mimic

A collage montage of black beard gods
    of Asgard who come from afar to teach
              you how to spit these bars...

Never dared to reveal
how much I cared,
Guess I’m just to scared.

Laughed as we listen to
old songs and sang along,
haven’t felt like this in so very long.

But I bury the words, leave them unsaid,
lock them away in the back of my head.
Because if she knew, if she saw me bare,
would she stay, or disappear like air?

So never do I dare
reveal how much I care.
Guess I’m just to scared.

Beautifully crafted notes about the gold chakra in my throat, Colorful varicose veins from techni-colored quotes show I'm no joke with these rhymes that I wrote..

My pen is dipped in the blood of the Lamb,
just like these tattooed hands,
marked with the name of my clan.

He cloned his own skin
to make his own twin just to
see who would win in a battle of hymns

God has stirred my cosmic cells,
guiding me toward my future self.

I sit here with the license to
abuse my barbiturate and vices,
They are never subsiding.
Lamp lights become blinding,
Imagination and heart rate climbing,
Muscle tightening from typing and transcribing a
666 page book from automatic writing.

I speak of quantum, spirits, space and time in my rhymes because i have Devine cells inside this veins of mine...

we drink, we laugh,
blunts and ash.
I grab her *** in a mineral bath as biology and chemistry now hits critical mass.

The Chosen stands ready to show you all his omens.
They misunderstood what was spoken,
So he peeled his skin open, explosion of orgone from organs
Just to show you all the knowledge he's been holding.

The mourning morning star that fell hides his feelings well by inhaling the chemical chemtrail from his blunts entrails.
That was just one line from one page in his book of dark tales, Sound the air raid bells he's been set free from his subterranean cell in a bottomless well with a non mediocrity philosophy for sale...

Come and look at him,
you couldn't fathom the
battalion of phantoms that
inhabit my atoms.

On a hot summer day,
her birthday.
There was a man
who took hours
making a beautiful
ice sculpture
of his love.
who long ago
passed away.

As she melts,
both with water
running down their face
he expressed everything
he could and couldn't say.  
How his
"love for her
will never fade".
And how she
"still lives
in his heart
to this very day".

Camp surrounded with her favorite colored lamps and preferred plants with tears he laughed,
raised his hands,
fell into a trance,
begged heaven for the smallest chance, for just one more dance

Destiny on his mind
as planets aligned.  
Wine, Chimes,
Rhythm and Rhymes offered
up as gifts to the divine.  

Venus now raises
in Aries,
a chalice full of sherry as I burn
bushes of rosemary, blue berries and cherries invoking
every elemental fairy.  

Loving her
was so natural.
He now calls upon the supernatural
with mixed mineral granules to make this night magical.  

A feeling of
pauper to king
as he puts on her ring.
Goose bumps all over his skin as a million lighting bugs drift in, on strong winds.

Whispered
"I miss you,..
I miss you,..
I miss you,.
baby I miss you",
into amethyst crystal.

He couldn't, feel more alive.
Heart filled with pride
He couldn't believe his eyes, as a star descended from the sky.  

A poltergeist
in an amber soft,
off white light.
while reciting written rites with all his might

Her wings open,
He's frozen
No words to describe what was spoken what a beautiful omen.

Though the attic's antics are
sporadic and unbalanced, he still chisels a fantastic ceramic tablet of
non-pragmatic mathematics,
hydro- and thermo-dynamic body mechanics— and that's not all...

In the eye of a storm, he sings his songs above a gold-drawn hexagon.
This is where I belong...

In a crystal capsule,
it's so natural
to call forth
the powers of the supernatural,
with mixed mineral
granules
to make these rhymes magical.

Behold...

From a cold throne in a stronghold of old,
an amulet in the shape of a
skull and crossbones—
he can turn a nonbeliever into stone.

...Welcome to the Terror Dome.

Riding
            a golden diamond island on
        the fringes of an event horizon, the
            God of impeccable rhyming and
                    immaculate writing
                comes with glad tidings...

I howl at the moon,
The stories are true,
I will come for you.

"I shattered a million pens, scripting these gems,
Carving my truth with ink-stained limbs."

The trace elements in his sentences are a testament to the perfectionist penmanship...

As the end soon approaches, read his macadocious magnaopus and how like Moses he was chosen to split oceans open when he sling slogans to the Most High God in a Poem..

Then with metal, magic, poems and an amulet in the shape of a skull and cross bones, I can turn the unbeliever into stone,
Welcome to the Terror Dome.

In a windowless room with a thousand candles burning,
I'm at the incursion of learning the
twisting and turning in my wordings,
I'm so determined.

His flow chart,
Mozart
as he describes all its mechanical parts and enacts any of its mystifying arts

Fusion and fission prevent the floating,
Contorting,
Glowing
Oak
Ark from falling apart,
My own little personal trademark work of art

Got here on the merits
of my own talents,

One sip of the holy chalice
balanced my unbalanced malice.

Now gifted with the knowing
of everyone's coming and goings,
Cursed with eyes wide open.

Awoken to his cosmic cells,
On a course to become his future self, all from mastering words far too well. 

The Dawn swings in,
Church bells rings,
Heaven cheers for him
as he floats upon wind.
Look at him ascend
Twin angel wings,
Now attached to both his limbs.

"Intensively listen,
None of her words escape.
Her tones interpermeate my physical state
As I focus on all eight of her frequency rates."

The light in her eyes start blinking.
The universe, singing.  
My head starts spinning.
Blending metaphors and lyrics,
Breaking the laws of physics,
As we become one spirit.

You couldn't mimic
how I write it or spit it.
Yet I’m my own worst critic.

With supervision started on a
mission to master my lyrical
composition and extra sensory
intuitions.

The Technician
Magician
Sits in the Lotus Position.
Inside a Crystal Prism conjuring up
a new Bio-Rhythm Algorithm for the
Entire Systems of his future written.

Was that too much?,
Writings never been that tough
but these skills are a diamond in the rough.

The Madd Hatter,
Verbal assault slasher
Is a metaphor master
Who controls even the smallest particulate
matter in all his chapters for maximum
brain splatter of grey matter.

"His mind expands beyond **** sapiens' grasp..."..hope they overstand the Sumerian encoded floor plans I left in the middle of Sudan.
The next test is not that simple
Decode sound wave ripples from my uniforms invincible cuneiform symbols..

Between the tick and the tock he meditated nonstop till he watched the clock completely stop and the matrix fell apart...

Her Body,
a Space Odyssey.

Any Scar,
a Shooting Star.

You wouldn't comprehend all the hours I've spent wrestling with my pen so it could obey my every whim.

"I must mention my reflections
In selecting my rhythm section—
An art collection with a cello reception,
An immaculate conception
Of a handwritten weapon."

A Maestro of the hymns
A masterful blend of woodwinds, strings, percussion and
violins, you should
hear them sing

Knowledge is the Universe ******* in your Mind....

"Come, take a look—if you dare,
You can’t begin to comprehend the lair,
Where a battalion of phantoms reside,
Drifting like whispers in atoms inside."

Face to face with her sensitive place,
Liquid intake makes feelings inflate.
Transform, mutate—
Fangs and claws, I want it all.
****** sauce, just to prove that I’m raw.

Every now and then
in a sacred garden
he spits rhymes often
in a soundproof coffin ….
…cause its only God and I when I'm talking...…

Scientific positive findings have me covering my walls with positive writing

Recited infinite
amount of rhymes,
an infinite
amount of times,
Performed sublime symbols and signs
in a stone mason shrine.
baptize with corn oil and wine,
he was born with the sign of divine blood line.
The leader in receiving messages from the ether,
the most faithful believer,
The most
powerful preacher,
the most
talented speaker.

"Who would have known coded ELF tones,
Bluetooth pulses and flickering strobes
Could sync with the mind and hijack control?"