Forces unbeknownst to me await behind the heaven's gate,
And my father... a figure in the clouds, whose image calls so loud...
The ward who kept me under lock and key,
Who gifted me a script I could not read:
A set of prison bars too high for me to reach.

This grand composer of the songs and strings,
As I grow closer, turns around and seems...

Terrified... of me? My father runs, my chorus has begun.

So much to see, but the shadow...
The shadow strung with greed.
My shadow... whom I cannot leave.
Striketh other worlds with swords and lashes on a quest to mold!

My father runs. No! What have I unleashed?
A chaos tree with spinning clockwork leaves.
All I wanted was to breathe, but my breath moves mountains,
Feel, my breath that floods the ocean floor.
I am drowning.
Drowning in this music box's open sea.

My skyward craft was deconstructed.
Left to dust, it could have flown,
Had not this toy sung it to home.

It was my fault that it resembled,
Far too much, a fleeting moth.
So long this world and all its nightmares,
So long my friend, the aching world.

For too long my father, soaked in slaughter,
Held this grudge on a seeking child.

Welcome my laughter, disguised as a daughter,
Unrecognized by her sick godfather:
A real machine made to unleash.

Her naked smile is a gate to Hell,
Behold, inside a metal burning trail.
When the fuse is short, the clouds will burst.
A real machine set to release the curse.

A fool trapped under my ancient wrath withers.
He shouts but not a sound is heard.
He grabs but nothing registers.
His world is grave and I cannot show it.
He is depraved but he cannot know it.

This man is a spark and he can't set a fire.
This fire would burn a hole in the sky.
If he somehow escapes he'll be living up higher,
So, he must be contained in a rotting state.

Brother, why must you go off again?
Stay and play with me, brother, you're my only friend,
Instead of marching off alone away from home.
They always say to me I gotta grow up some time,
But growing up is so lonely.
My brother marches off alone.

Remember when the floor was burning under lava,
And the furniture was the only stable safety?
Father would scold us for making him worry,
Then melt into the floor and rise up a monster.
That day, brother, I know you won't believe it,
But in his eyes I saw a child lit.
There was a spark, brother, and then mom came home.
She brought in a letter that made him hide in his coat.
That spark disappeared, and the child died.
Does everyone have a kid resting inside?

My brother stares at his clothes in a campfire's glow.
The blood on this hands showing all that he knows.
I cast my heart to the stars, brother please come home.
My brother watches the stars. To forever he goes.

Gazing out my window at the subtle rise of dawn,
The figure of my brother approaches on the lawn.
There was a spark in his eye and then silver and lead.
Forever lies my brother who won't march off again.

Part IV: Strings Through Face


How it works is far beyond me,
But what it holds my eyes can capture.
Twist the knobs and find the right keys,
Twist the knobs and my face is captured.

I have no face.
I cannot see but I still wonder.
My eyes are gone.
Where is the lightning?
As I hear the thunder.

This music box ate my face alive!
Stringing out my sight!
Where are you?

Tearing off my nares!
Who are you!

Sewing close my jaw!
Why are you...

My face is lost!
Father, my face is gone!
I need another...
This music box defiles my slumber!

Father!
Do you hear my calls?
My face is lost father, where did I go wrong?

The air around is dead,
I cannot let it in.
My voice outside cannot be said,
But I need an answer...

O' music box,
With many strings,
Why imprison me?
Why cast your blades across the steely sky?
I must away, but you force me to stay.

When I was a boy, I saw unleashed upon you,
With my young eyes,
A proud disease.

My friend was sick; I could not heal him,
So all I could was smash and bash him.
He would not die, I did not cry,
For I was lost to my own music making box.

"Father, what is this gift? A toy?"
Asked I the living wandering boy.
"How does it work?"
Like death, my youngest self should have foreseen.

Stillness. There is no fire causing havoc in the forest.
There is no floodwater to wash away the dirt it rests upon,
Screaming a song. The birds are mellow.
The squirrels are hiding. My back rests against a maple tree.
Imagination is free, but bound by peaceful things.
My thoughts can wander freely, but the woods are dull.
Can you sing me a song? My plots fall flat.
Falling... though an endless void. There is only black.
This mind is useless if my tales are null.
I already drowned the rabbit hole.
Silence. I already egged the nests,
And boulders keep the bears at rest.
They're sleeping. The woods are sleeping. The trees still standing,
And I'm still humming this same old tune.

Under the sun some time ago,
A violent, greedy form was shaking,
And was struck down, breaking,
By the Son of Heads he tried to pry apart.

But now he is living.
A light shows upon his wicked hooks.
Pointed at something glimmering behind the chorus of swords.

It brightly glares down, the lost appendages float around,
One strikes! Oh– what a sound!
If it just had a mouth it would scream for the world!
Its fingers bleed and are lost to their home,
Said home no longer bound to its segmented docks.
Bridges burning, joints are turning, liquids leaking,
The strings are singing, the clouds are cutting,
A God is laughing! A box is smashing!
"Pathetic fool! See where your arm is now?
Where is your body now? He can't help you,
The evil one that left him lost and helpless!
Powerless fool! You are nothing without him!
He is an engineer without a wrench,
And you a wrench without a *****!
Another choked by the strings of many songs... lost."

The shadow bleeds. He cannot see.
Without a mind he cannot think.
The sheep has tamed and came to shame...
My shadow... bound to his remains.

Have at it, thwart, the shadow.

The air is full of dust.
The chairs are rotting, creaking planks of wood.
The roof can cave in, given the right moment to expose the sun–
The heating sun that beats upon this sickly place.

My family's faces were eaten alive by termites, infesting the photo frames,
And a flicker of the lights puts this sleeping place to bed,
Where it belongs had I the right ideas inside my head.

If I was any wiser I would leave at once without a twist of neck.
I would run away and maybe change my name.
I'd never think of looking back...

Yet here I am unwise. The floor is *******, never rubbed or rinsed,
And populated by more wallpaper than the walls.
From the bathroom leaks a familiar yet appauling smell.

My family's faces were eaten, deceased, by maggots.
My dad drowned in the bathtub, and my brother in the sink.
My mother lifeless on the bed because she was confused for steak.
My uncle always said to me that luxury is for the saved.
As for the rest there is no other place to go,
Because my home is at the grave.

This music box,
I can't believe,
Destroyed my wingless flying aim.
In the sky, the strings from Hell,
Suppress my need to pray and yell.

My Heaven's gate is locked with gold,
And my mindless snakes awaken...
Rising from below.

If they just had a teacher, maybe...
They could seek to love. One day...
We could fly above.

"You and me,
We were one.
What happened to the times we worked as such?
Our old machines fell into dust.
I have our mind, but I need some arms...
To break the heavens' golden lock.

I don't know much,
But I know my heart...
And unlike you it has not left me.
I have never known anything but...
The passion it has given me,
It is time to be risen!"

I am tired of living!
It is time to start dying...
Ascending!

"Let us build a machine to turn us to dust!
To let us be risen... released finally from this form.
I have been waiting for you, shadow.
I have the power, and you have the strength
To build a contraption and tear a hole in the sky."

Feeling down?
There's one way out.
Inclusion will bring you back to life.
You will never break apart,
Now consume like the rest. Be like the rest.
In exchange for your life force, you will be given the best.
In a brief moment you will be presented with supplements.
Take all that you want until your smile returns.
Wash them down with coffee and alcohol,
And show everyone that your smile's returned.
Now you can resume your desires and functions,
And remain happy... like everyone else...
Human.

Laugh.
Frown.
****.
Cry.
Die... inside.

Expose your life force.
Destroy your life force.
Please leave your life force in the bin.
You are normal now.
Rejoice, you are happy now.
Bow down, human.

Insert the tubular device into your face.
You will feel a mellow ******* force.
This is normal. It is functional.
Watch a short video to proceed.
Yes... you are amazing.
Press the button to capture your face.
You look fantastic.
See how happy you are...
Human.
You are feeling...
Fantastic.
Human.

I was born and never sworn.
I did live but could never give,
Until to live I never did.

I had not a thing to give.

My body's weak, it fell apart,
Like my heart it came to rot,
Dismissed in cruelty, now I can't see,
And cast away like a damaged doll.

I had not a fist to raise,
I had not a heart to be restrained–
No passion in cold, dark waste.
I had no hope in this empty place:
I was born and I did die.
No one cared, so life I cried.

I am cold,
But all have loathed.
Lift me up,
I have collapsed.
I want a heart to give...

Give me your heart.

A proud disease indeed forgot its home,
Attacked its cherished shelves;
Inflicting flames upon its tomes.

A child swore to slay the host,
But his ageless mind has grown old,
and shapeless face has new hope.

This world he's always known with costly stones lay burried now beneath the singing strings,
And under the sea within these winding keys,
Leaving my steely prayers opposed!

This world I've always known has tarnished under a toxic pearly gate,
These songs I've come to hold corrupted by this poisoned shape.
As stillness kills, I must escape!

My armless form enclosed,
As my skyward craft arose.

This music box aglow with hate!
Screaming a tune to fix my broken fate!
I am contained.

This music box,
That beat my rocket tame.

A part of me became a fiend;
A treasurer that left my sleeves
To find the shiny end to all his dreams.

The flying of his lash upon the sphere
Has caused my own to go numb.

Twisted fingers wilting in the sun,
Prying apart the singing Son of Heads
With all his bleeding life; he was found dead.

A proud disease was born a sheep.
Guided by a shepherd's hand to show its face across the desert sand
Until he dropped the leash.
Wild poison spilled upon the civil streets.

Father, take the body and leave it to drown.
The paths I built are deadly to cross.
This form is raw, these arms are gone,
My face is lost, what can I pray upon?
The windows shut; I cannot go,
Within this self I cannot hold,
Without this form, my panic stilled,
Why trapped with so much sky unfilled?  
Tell this box to let me through.
Make it sing me a song that will lift the bars
And set my ideas free to roam outside this room.
I want to plant a chaos seed.
I wish it to sprout a wonderful tree with clockwork leaves,
To leave in the sphere to watch from my chariot seat.

This music box,
With many locks, and countless knobs,
These melodies play on its strings,
They're nightmares that contain my dreams.

This music box,
A proud disease,
Cannot sustain my faulty sleep.
If I thunder down the walls,
Within, another structure stalls.

O' music box!
Open enclosure that can't release!
Calming madness in a silent stream,
Lined with boulders and a storming breeze!

Collect my thoughts!
Within this music box,
An open sea, yet no sea released.
It tempts me with its pounding waves,
Arrests me, I can hear but I must see.

I am trapped, and just this box can set me free!

My pen is drawn,
I play my card.
In opposition, bullets charge
At the humble hull that graces space.

I row through open,
Sound is broken,
Yet I feel the great explosions
As I begin my work of art.

His beard can change the name of Virgo,
As it entangles her with rugged work.
His fingers grasp the fins of Cetus,
Guiding him through hallowed dirt.

Upon my course of groundless ground,
A chorus spits its sinful praise
Upon the Heavens, hands are raised;
Filthy angels make the games.
Holy traitors, boundless bounds,
And sacrilege will fall as rain.

The ones who think they are marionettes,
Will taste the blood on their swords.
Controlled by delusion,
They swing from confusion,
There are no strings in an aimless space.

The pen masters dance in allusions!
Imprison the stories of old,
And execute them with ink!
A war to break out in a comedy show,
Over one wordless tome—
On an altar in my vision zone!

My pen unarmed,
My senses harmed.
A soundless token of echoing voices,
To be spoken in softness, over thundering roughness.
This altar carved with wood and stone,
This tome of words with sheets of ink,
These words wear masks— I cannot read.
Tear a page,
It falls like rain.
Observe the rage,
Let freedom faint.
Soak the page,
Its masks detatch.
Lift the rage,
I row away.

Dire fires threaten dire paintings,
Set by dire men, defending dire idols
Who tied their hands to the crescent moon.

War broke out in the studio,
Getting further from the truth.

Blazing through the skies above,
From deserted continents,
They cook the dove.

"Down with the towers,
Blow the roof!
Down with the active streets,
And those with minds aloof!"

Yet in the battle halls,
A canvas there for eyes in awe,
While behind the towers fall,
The pen is drawn,
The pennons bawl.

Yet echoing through the city streets,
The innocent fall to the ground,
As fires set upon the town!
The pennons show a winning streak,
By force while their emotions leak.

"Down with the warlords,
Let us draw!
Down with the active planes,
And deadly bombs!"

Between the clash of different laws,
From above,
A single sheet sinks down unharmed.
Flowing through the blackened fog,
Gracefully, it mocks the sacred hog.

"I know this guy who sought divine,
And was believed to speak His lines.
He lost this truth by middle-life,
But through his lies he claimed a wife.

"Don't let him gaze upon your children,
Fight his old-age desperation.
Spill the ink to blind his vision,
Tie his hands to the crescent moon."

Battle cries and splitting shots were silenced,
Even spitting fires ceased to whisper.
As the graceful insults fell aground,
Laughter struck the once conflicting crowd!

Across the ocean's dome,
Controlled by piercing shouts without a doubt;
On an altar in the distance:
An open book with censored words!
Tear a page,
Observe the rage.
Not what any freedom fighter would.

In a rowboat in the open,
Draw the source of their devotion.
Pencil sketch the jagged beard,
And stretch the nose a thousand years.

What a time to strike some fear!

The terrorists will echo with madness,
The pen is your sword.
The innocent will run to the forests,
And the artists make war.

Across the desert homes,
Contained by giant seas to some degree;
In a planetary orbit:
A crying team with crooked teeth!
See the page,
The winds enrage.
Not what any freedom lover should.

Bullets charge at the comedian's door,
Burning down all the carpenter's lore.
Sculptors mourne over severed stones,
The innocent turn, yearn, learn...

The invasions form, warn, and burn.

As the terrorists echo with madness,
Hold the pen as your sword.
As the innocent run to the forests,
Let the artists make war.

Throw the drawings ashore!

The sun forever guiding,
Their hoods forever rising.
The times are never changing,
Our cave forever breaking.

A cause so lost in the dust of the Earth.
A pause so long, the ancients heard.
A man so strong, the river yearned
To cloak his self and the life he earned.

Under the waterfall,
I am shunned by nature's screeching cries,
And drowned in hooded leeching lies!
A great machine that changed the time!

Twisting in a brilliant path,
Above the cave, the water's last
Falls upon the empty man
Willful to be drowned in red.

The water rises,
And I awaken in the dark of the tunnel stream.
The lights have vanished,
And my perception is lost.

As my eyes are open;
Home to view these ancient walls.
In paintings, I have only seen
These deathly catacomb halls.

My lights awaken,
The water shaken.
Gone are the hooded paintings; stolen
From the dephs of the catacomb halls.

From the doctrines of space and nature,
I paint the walls with answers
To guide the ancients who rebuilt the city.
Once more, the water rises.
One more, another body
To flow through the tunnel stream.

Blurring,
Through a lifeless realm of light.

Blinding,
Is the massive ray display!
Phasing through two different voids,
As life enfolds, the dark engulfed.

Before the storm,
The tallest bricks reform.
And waves ring silence,
As the boat stays on the shore!

I'll travel to the distant past
To cast the gauntlet to the mass!

As the wise men fill with rage,
Their heads take cover
Under hoods of shape!

Detonate!

The times are dark,
But we have light
Along our hidden stream.

Yet it is the city's heart
I've been invited to set free.

Yes, my dear,
The times are dark.
Need you grant me your leave.
Yet you know I must be gone
To a place beyond our age.

You'll see my paint on
Central halls if I do succeed;
Saddening to watch you fall,
As I step in the machine.

Doctor Monteni,

You see,
What was lost is still earthbound;
We shall form the shaping rounds.
From the caverns, teach the temples,
Lead the cities to the highest stars!

Monteni,
Wash the paintings from the wall,
For they drove the kingdom's fall.

In our machine of winding hands,
Travel through the times beyond
As it is us who'll light the dawn.

I can't say how I'm feeling,
But this feeling isn't right.
I was reminded last time
Why I'm staying home tonight.

My views are contradicting
Their feeling of what's right.
Their words cannot convince me,
As they're failing to provide.

It is with hope,
My words convince you
As I give my reason why.
It is not yours to decide
The outcome of my plight.

Smoke fills the air,
They whisper prayers.
Uninvolved, I stand up tall.
What I was taught are not the laws,
I will stay home all night long.

Planet of imprisoned pasts,
Time of dark and ragged masks.
Life of chants and pointless tasks,
Take a cask,
Let living last.

Yet under the cloak of the waterfall,
Despite the warnings in nature's call;
The Unhooded work on a better machine;

To spin a storm;
And set them free.

What can I do?
What have I seen?
The lessons I've learned fall in line with reality.
Where can I go?
For the gates have been closed.

What can I know?

Part II: Searching Waters

Upon the floating papers being referenced by the breeze,
Upon the starving creatures in a search for refuge.

In light of coming nature,
Despite the future cold.

Watch her magic on the creatures
To survive as the grow old.

Existence,
As seen from our eyes,
As taught to be there.

As taught not to be.

Subject to change,
Unchanged in direction.

In a war against fiction,
And decided in haste.

You have wings,
Now learn to fly!
All you've known are your own skies.
Forget the hallowed lands of ash!

Expand your tools,
Above your past.

See their heights of architecture,
Manufactories and telescopes,
Venturing onwards to what they can see.

Encountering the wise men,
Mistakably ambitious.

Justifying their plan, they
Solute to their integrity.
Utilizing machinery,
Now they finally see.

Passed was the opportunity of their species.

Domesticated angry shouts,
Across to different man.

Manipulated creatures,
Being driven by their hand.

Indoctrinated to follow;
Throw out their creativity.

Kneeling at the altars,
And blessing flightless wings.

Encompassing the limelight,
Is the sweeter sense on Earth.
Gaze upon the sunlit paths,
Forever in their stay.

Life forms walk their fruitful ways,
Are they to witness judgement day?

Architecture, and distant waves,
I'm he to judge their progress made.

How dreadful to see
Those that I cannot read.
All over the latest feed.

Not poetry,
Like puppetry.
A repetition of words, numbers, and symbols that aren't clever in the least.
And users with names
In impossible tongues.
Their gibberish reeks!

Line after line,
All the same, it's uncared for.
They write marriage, black magic, and European countries.

It's daily infinity,
Thieving the spaces from more thoughtful writing.
Shall I fight just to see the absense of these;
And say hello only to real poetry.

Lightning shatters the temples,
And the prisoners run to the cities.

Enlightenment in the open,
But the leaders call to the rain.

Through the lenses we build,
We belittle the fields.

Through the fossils we find,
We belittle our lives...

...And expand on our minds.

Adapted to our inventions,
We piece together our puzzlement
To discover the origins of where we stand.

We live without contentment,
We urge to learn,
And light the blackness.

Our footsteps disturb the ancients.
Our machinery expands on their science.

From where I find,
No Heaven or Deep.
Calling out,
Where are my skies?
Watch the pastor's open doors,
But step into a light much more.

Low-Hanging Tree
Part III


Dream of the hills,
And picture the mountain.
I see the sun born,
Making way through the storm.
The winds blow against me,
Rain lands on my face.
The grass is now dreary,
My travel remains.

Low-Hanging Tree
Part II


I set out with a strong tune,
And a thick beat in my heart.
My goal in life is visible,
And my pathway lies ahead.
But yet I find myself aware
Of seaspray on my face.
But I know there's nothing there,
My pathway lies ahead.

I'll find the low-hanging tree,
The clouds.
As I imagine in my head.

Low-Hanging Tree
Part I


To be lying in the ocean in an everlasting dream.
To be crying out for wonder,
All the more in my belief.
I'll be tossing out my gold,
As that of which I've seen.
I'll be setting for adventure,
And I'll leave my narrow stream.

Lymeria
Part VI


I awaken,
With sand in my eyes.
And wonderment is in my mind.
I've come upon the fabled Lymeria,
And I, for once, am surprised.

The mountains, as told, were shining of gold,
And the oceans were diamonds untold.

The rainbows were vivid with color,
And the forests were vivid with life.

I've come across,
A legend lost,
The twelve islands of Lymeria.

I know that I
Am no longer confined,
And I realize I've now lived my life.

I see the spheres of my own eyes,
And I notice the stars in the sky.
My youth is still timed,
And I eat from the trees,
My purpose has entered my life.

Soon I know, I'll take a flight,
Through the borders of Earth uncharted.
Soon, I know, that I will find,
And idealize the meanings of life.

Lymeria
Part V


Towards the sea,
I've done my best,
To build a boat,
And drift in darkness.
I do not know what lies beyond,
Until ashore,
I'll come across.

Lymeria
Part III


The waves ashore knew not their greetings.
Their lure was Man,
Who steered my dreaming.
Is it so wrong,
To live at my best?
When I can't see the better,
To float like the rest.

Lymeria
Part II


You must think in this way,
And shall think only truth.
You cannot dream at all,
If the Lord has not called.
You must warm by the fires,
And follow our will!
For if you learn to doubt,
You will not see the hills.

Lymeria
Part I


My life has begun,
Like gears under the sun.
I can't wait to find fortune!
Or to be saddened, to stroll or be shunned.

I can't handle the wonder!
I'll live by my truths!
I'll feast upon fruit,
And live out my youth.

The Kingdoms of the Mountain Cross
Part VI


Our numbers lessened,
For every step.
And our resources were very sparse.
Will I live to see the Mountain Cross,
And be joyful to walk in the sand?

Then all at once,
The people stopped.
They thought that their eyes had deceived them.

Ahead was the Bridge in the west.

The children ran to play in the sand,
And the people found food,
Not starvation.
They rose and built their cities high,
And danced near their fires at night.

Our ashes washed off in the ocean,
And our tales of light,
Were ever so bright.

The Kingdoms of the Mountain Cross
Part V


In mornings,
There rose globes of fire.
At nights,
Their deaths did not sound.
Every day,
The people decay.
And for every light,
There were souls taking flight.

The Kingdoms of the Mountain Cross
Part IV


The light arose,
And the grass had blackened.
All of life has become a wasteland.
All my time, now dust
And ashes.

The searching was restless,
And many tears,
Have landed over the years.