I smile for the last time
Mushroom clouds in the sky

I sigh in relief
it is all that i believed

Sunshine on my face
Warmth in my bones

It is finally here;
Atomic fire

Jungian archetypes dance on the strings of my consciousness,
they play rhythmic music inside the logic unit of my mind.
Some where deep in there a spirit wonders of it is the sum of its parts, bit more or a slave to my own biochemistry; Trapped inside the house of mirrors ever echoing the same.

Ash in my mouth, with broken wings I wonder
On the ground ponder
Why did I
Fly
So close the sun.

For now traveled have I
From the blaze of sun
to the pitch black

Here I build my wings again;
To soar the heavens so so high.
So fellow husks
in the swamp of death.
Remind me brothers;
Don't try to fly to the sun!
again...

Nothing can sooth the demons inside me, for I am the devil inside.
With my will the ill wind will blow where ever it goes.
Enemies, friend, strangers will be gone. I shall remain.
For my will will not let me go, in good nor evil.

In the factory the Mother Machine makes love to steel and death.
One at the time, with mothers love, The Machine gives birth to the henchmen of death.
Each loved exactly the same amount.

Made from cold steel and microchips those grim reapers wander.
Seeking last remains among the anthill build from glass and concrete.

On the streets strong focused light cuts in the armor with ease and precision.
Weak flesh armed to the teeth is slowly dying, buying time for the fleeing Lemmings.

In the factory Mother smiles giving ****** births to the end of time.

Pulvis et umbra summus.

Omnis mundi mortalis est, temporis crescit

Tu non eterna est;
sed nihil eterna ad tu;
ergo non male ad tu;
Sil celerale mortalis, ante mors tu ad umbra ferre

Army of fools marches on lead by first among peers
(some of us just want to see the world burn)

Buy! Sell! CONSUME! so echoes the steps of that march
(some of us just want to see the world burn)

Their formations based on habits for sake of habits
(some of us just want to see the world burn)

They sing Joyfully about their victory over "terrorists" and other ghosts of power
(some of us just want to see the world burn)

Individuality, Freedom and intellect as their victims
(some of us just want to see the world burn)

with Wings made of lies they reach for the stars
(some of us just want to see the world burn)

Seeking new things to consume new ghosts to be sacrificed
(do you want to see the world burn?)

On an altar of customers where everyone is right
(i do)

His dead!

I suspect Nietzsche did it in morality with a book;

I suspect Platon did it in birth with stillbirth;

I suspect Machiavelli did it on Ruling with the ends to justify the means;

I suspect Darwin did it in Galápagos with birds;

I suspect Scientists did it in laboratories with stem cells;

I suspect Romans did it in Golgotha with a cross;

I suspect Jews did it in Gethsemane with Judas;

I suspect Christians did it in Spain with inquisition;

I suspect Muslims did in New York with a plane;

I suspect Adolf did it in Poland with gas;

I suspect Stalin did it in Siberia with gulags;

I suspect United states did it in Hiroshima with a bomb;

I suspect United nations did it in wars by looking away;

I suspect God did it in Heaven by suicide;

I suspect I did it here with a poem
I suspect You did it.

The Cynic in me buries the optimist and the pessimist side by side, leaving the realist rotting on top.

What a dog I've become.

A hound to howl against hope; an advocatus diaboli for nil and all, but that's what I've become... that's what I am.

Tho all we are all made from stardust, drifting through eons and life's.

It is your radiance shines to me like a blazing star piercing through the dust of tomorrow - the slow malicious dust that covers us in the distance of today.

I would run through the mist only to see you smile, but I won't for i could not assemble the shards it would shatter from the cruel now.

Yet i still long for your glistening shine and build a shrine in my heart so it will beacon us to union in wonders that be beyond the dust of tomorrow

I'm trying to figure, when did the first smile die on you face and
I'm sorry that I missed it.

I wonder when does the last do the same or did it already go; how long from that till your heart grows cold and we are both alone.

Even then I hope that under the cold ash does something still ember and we can blow them to a new fire.

Should that fire start it would brighten the days in front and keep us warm in the days of dark.