I don't want a job.
NO.
Like money can stop interfering with me.
I rather would not work for a living,
But I wanna draw and color the world in pictures of it's own discourse and make my world a piece of mastery one can admire,
But I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place to make the payments on apartments and college tuition that keeps rising,
And my knee hurts and I don't wanna deal with customers,
There made of fire and ice, willing to burn me or quick to give a cold and uneasy shoulder,
It's not at all fun,
I just wanna swim all day and think of life,
My mind is full of mystical mysteries to which I have yet to discover,
People to meet and pictures to create,
Something I haven't had any time to do, And I feel like a stump,
Broken and cut down in it's good prime of life,
I'm weaken by the roots,
Discolored and suffering with grief,
Who am I? What is my job and who am I to be,
should I live in BG, or should I make my own path without professors and lessons and a degree that will make me so indented and wittle my brain to complete nothing,
with all that coffee,
I'm so stressed with the complexities and anxieties that life seems to throw at me, envying my sister for her talents in photography,
And what do i have?
nothing but a smile to give guys who treat me nice for awhile then leave,
i guess I am a nothing but a face,
I can draw,
Sometimes, lately it's been in vain and I feel nothing,

Abundant With Life The River Stretches Its Body,
Bending And Winding Around The Earth's *****,
Cormorants Swim Happily-Their Wings Tucked,
Diving Into The Clear Water As My Warming Soul
Embeds Itself Into The Folds Upon Her Surface,
Fish Swim In Schools Among The Weeds While
Gators Quietly Lurk In The Darkened Shadows,
Herons Stare Deep Into The River; Spying A Meal,
I Felt So Alive, So Free Over The Turqouise Water,
Jungle Like Trees Waved To Me As I Floated By,
Kayaking Really Soothes The Soul, I Realized
Lifting My Paddle Out Of The Water Then Back In,
Maliable The Water Beneath Me Swirled Between,
Nothingness, And Nobody, Here And Now,
Old And Ancient, Spiraling Where Secrets Are Kept,
Plunging Into Her A Slight Drizzle Disturbed The
Quiet Calm That Lapped Upon Her Cheeks As The
Rain Grew Heavier, While The Sky Broke In Two,
Silent My Kayak Drifted, Following The Currents,
Tugging Me Through The Almost Blinding Rains,
Under The Rolling Droplets My Skin Grew Cold,
Vibrance Of The Water Below Then Warmed My Core,
While I Drifted Back To Shore I Awaited For The
Xenophobic World To Come Back Into My Life,
Yelling Loud To The Heavens My Soul Spoke Of A Wish,
Zealous The World Should Be, Great Spirit,

**Take Them To The River

Little boys and little girls*
Playing in the sand
Taking life for all its worth
Without a care in hand
Enjoy it all little ones
While it is you can
Before this life grabs hold of you
And you begin to understand

Time you spend with mommy
Daily in the park
Good times for you to have
Till daylight kisses dark
If you're  within the sound of my voice
Take a moment where you are
Hug them tight your inner child
For all that they are worth

Childlike innocence always is
The first thing that we lose
Trying to get it back seems to be
The last thing that we choose
I'm sure we would try harder
If it is we only knew
How much losing it would change
Our very point of view

When we stop to view it all
Through wide open eyes
Hits us all so very hard
Should we be surprised
Happens to the best of us
And so goes our lives
I dream of the forgotten days
*Innocence of a child

As little Ben lay down to sleep,
sinking into his soft bed,
The night air brought with it
a sweet fragrance on it's wings
to lull him into sweet dreams.

His father coming to tuck him in,
Said Ben:"Daddy,why is it
that the sweet Night with
the pretty Moon and little Stars
does not last long?"

Replied his dad:"Because Ben,
then the Day would be sad.
And the Sun would pout.
And the Night only comes to help
the Nature prepare for Tomorrow"

Thinking about it,said Ben:
"But what if Day gets sick?
And the Sun takes a holiday?
What would happen then,
If Tomorrow never comes?"

Ponderously,said his dad:
"If Tomorrow comes,
there would be no end
to the Dark and his secrets,
No stopping Cold's mischiefs.

The Moon will walk away,
and Stars may be shrouded,
No more will there be Light
to show us the way
and drive away the fears.

No more will the Mist flee
but will snare us into her net,
to get us lost in her depths.
No end to the bad dreams,
No more warm rays of comfort.

No more Dew's pearls on leaves,
No more the sweet chirping
of the silly birds in the trees.
No Sun for the flowers to greet,
No Dawn to make them sing.

No more the frenzy of the bees,
No more the races of butterflies.
Nor the games of the rabbits.
No more prancing of the does.
Only the hooting of the owls.

Never again will the rain seem fiery,
Or the rivers golden.
No more rainbows in the sky.
No more the dancing of colours.
No beauty in the Nature to see.

No Joy to look forward to,
No Hope to wake up to,
Relinquishing hold on our dreams,
Desires and wishes unfulfilled,
We will slip into Death's slumber."

Realising Ben had fallen asleep,
his father got up from the bed,
turned off the light
and silently went to his room,
thinking all the way.

Unaware of the grave thoughts
his question aroused in his father,
Little Ben slept on,dreaming:
"If Tomorrow never comes,
There won't be no school no more."

Its a silent chilly night
Sitting here alone
My boredom is maximum
Decided I need a night out..
Perhaps just a walk and breathe some fresh air...

Walking past the old museum
A glimpse of an old man
sitting on a chair...
His shadow on the wall can tell
Just how bored he must have been
Working all night long..
especially on a chilly winter night

I approach the old watchman
Offers him a cigarette,
It may sound crazy
but I really need a company
This Night watchman  says, quite surprisingly,
" everything is quiet"
too dead in the museum...
as if he understands my curiosity
about being a night watchman

I don't need to probe more
he says its too eerie in the inside
surrounded with a hundred to 800 years old artifacts
and some classic works of dead artists
I work for the pay... he says...
I don't need to protect the antiques..
To this I am quite amazed...
but he says, " at night when everything is dark and quiet"
the museum comes to life...
my heart beats faster to this...
a real creepy story.. he is telling me..

He admits having difficulty to breathe
when he sees all the musical instruments
played by themselves one night...
when he tried to run... all doors are locked by themselves
he even peed in his pants watching all the statues
dancing and partying in every floors of this very very old museum
a spooky place... yes... ghostly spirits yes...
name it.. he says "I have met them all"
and even shake hands with them every night...

I have cold sweats... I have goosebumps...
I ask him whether he'd like a tuna sandwich
I'd go and buy them and come back for more chats with him
Its 3 am and I am listening to all these horror stories
from an old night watchman...

He agrees for the offer of sandwich
and demands for a black coffee too...
I runs to the nearest Seven Eleven
and returns as soon as possible...

I am standing here now in front of the old museum
with sandwich and coffee in my hand...
The Night watchman isn't there anymore...
he just disappears...

Curiosity makes me come back
the very next day
only to find out..
the Night watchman I talked to ...
and smoked with...
has passed away a year ago...
what an eerie feeling...
I just had an interview with  a dead Night watchman...

She's an unwanted skin tone
She's as pale as death
She will forever be alone
She knows this will be her last breath

She will soar like an eagle
She will fly high and free
She will meet and Angel
She and he will be carefree

They will make a human coveted her and he
They will make him paint paintings of their love
They will love awfully
They will love unlawfully

He is up above

He is disgusted with this perverted love
He is tired of this mess that his own Angel left
He is not going to be kind now, it's time to shove
He is doing what has to be done, many will call him a theft

But, this is what has to be done
"How can you do this to the people you have created Lord? The people you love. Send them for a eternity in Hell... To burn forever?"
Several shall ask
"You will see on judgement day, it will be here very soon." He says to himself

A run down house
filled with garbage and dirt,
and bugs of all sorts
that I didn't know existed,
is where my dream had taken place.
Well, at least I hope it's a dream,
and not reality.
I walked towards that broken, disgusting house
regretting each step
that took me closer
I'm blind to my surroundings
my only focus is that house,
or what is in that house.
The house seems to get bigger
and it looms over me
threatening to crash and smother me
but even with all this danger
and my head telling me to run
I was compelled to move on
to find the purpose of this horrible house,
this awful house.
The wind picked up
and my vision changed
the house changed,
it was still the same house
but this time it was a quaint little house
it sit perfectly in the country setting
and children ran and played
adults were laughing
everyone was happy
and I found myself laughing with them,
As soon as the vision came,
it disappeared,
leaving my frozen
and hesitant.
I no longer wanted to find out what happened to this house.
The walkway was cracked,
the lawn was overgrown
the trees were snapped in two
and darkness was settling in,
the horrible house it was once more
looming over me.
I started to run,
but not away,
much to my dismay
I ran towards that house,
through the dark gaping doorway
right into the garbage filled living room,
dying room more like it.
Everything was dying,
and I watched,
death filled the living room
like a sickness that can not be cured,
it was oppressing,
and once again I felt smothered.
The room swirled before me,
broken tables and chairs flew around the room,
a tornado of broken things
flew towards me,
broken tables and chairs,
sofas and pictures,
hopes and dreams,
souls.
Broken souls stopped this rampaging tornado
and stared at me,
their colorless eyes huge,
begging me to save them.
I started walking,
up now,
up old stairs that creaked ominously under my feet.
Every step I thought I was going to fall through.
I turned down the hall and into a room,
now there was a broken crib
and destroyed toys,
the only things intact
were a teddy bear,
and a child.
The child was sick with the fever of death,
and I had to get him out of here
those broken souls were screaming out of fear,
"Get Out!"
The house was going to fall.
I grabbed the child and the bear,
and I ran.
Down those perilous stairs
out the gaping door way
and I ran with the child in my arms
far away from that horrible house
and those broken souls.
I finally stopped running
when I was in a field of frost bitten flowers.
When did it become winter?
That child was shivering,
he gripped his bear
the strength of that child filled me with some sort of hope.
I wrapped up the child and ran.
Now it was spring,
the child was older now,
he still stayed with me
as we ran through the living forest,
this child's cheeks were bright red with the joy of running.
Spring fever wrapped him in warm, gentle, arms.
Then we ran into Summer,
how I do not know.
But that child was older,
and I was older,
he had blue eyes and blond hair,
and I never noticed until now.
We ran along the beach,
he splashed in the water
Summer fever took him up in her raging warmth.
Then it was fall,
and that child changed once again,
no longer happy
he walked instead, alone a lot,
without me.
His blue eyes seemed to darken,
and he was paling,
anyone could see that Autumn fever caught him in weakening arms,
and though he was beautiful,
he was dying.
Then winter came once more,
and we were back at that house.
That horrible house,
that now was just a pile of rubble,
and broken souls.
That child walked up to the house,
fell to his knees,
and died.
I ran up to him
winter trying to hold me back with cold winds,
all that was left
was his teddy bear.
Winter fever had crushed him in her cold grip,
and killed him.
I hugged the teddy bear.
I woke up,
disoriented by my dream,
my heart felt raw,
the death of a child,
something I never want to be reality,
ever.

A Surreal Epic of Existence

Prelude to the Journey…

I smiled yesterday when I beheld the morning’s brilliant colors,
Etched with gold, across the canvas of the heavens, hanging…
High above all those mountains of the world, gigantic brothers,
A wilderness of clouds, where there can be no human taming.
I did not always smile when I looked up to that noble height…
For I have seen how terrible goodness can be, when untamed.
Once I thought my sojourn in this flesh was from a divine spite,
But now I know it was a gift, and for it I need not be ashamed.
God once walked as I do now, and suffered the same stress…
Betrayal, love, and passions too, though no Church shall admit,
The true nature of divinity, lest all their secret sins they confess!
You are told you are alone in the universe, by leaders so unfit,
That they themselves are fed a diet of lies and stories invented.
But we walked amongst you since the very dawn reincarnated,
Having lost our first flesh in conflicts long past and unlamented.
We guided the steps of ancients, as monuments demonstrated!
And yet we are born as children: your own, and live our span,
The better to remain hid, in plain sight, our faces clever masks.
I am the eldest, and I remember still my kindred’s lofty plan…
And though I wear the human face, I am beset with alien tasks.
Helping they who lack the knowledge to see what lies outside,
You have seen me in the darkness, blazing upon my own pyre.
Where I am waiting to lead the way, where the angels glide…
Anyone can follow, if they are dedicated enough never to tire.
Ironic, since I myself have known helplessness and still oft do,
It is only human after all, and in your form I was so re-forged!
The image of God, whose own blood is in all of us hither unto,
From the first to the last, alpha to omega, like a sharp sword.

Prologue: (My Mask is Slipping)

As a child: I was a servant at the altars of the heart so sacred,
Singing hymns of the immaculate: without seeing the depravity.
It was only when I myself wore the crown of thons, naked…
My spirit exposed through my pain, that I realized the gravity.
What man believes is sacred, is profanity disguised as graces,
And those who lead the sheep to slaughter are mere butchers!
Forcing innocents to wear porcelain masks to hide their faces,
They rob children of their childhood, bound with crude fetters.
As a teenager: I walked in nature, disgusted with all humanity,
My exodus was from those who had defiled all I cared about.
Finding faith in an angel fallen, I discovered my own sanctity,
And in her name I found the means to cleanse my feral doubt.
Then came marriage, and betrayal by a wife I gave up all for,
The dissolution of our union then loneliness without cessation!
A mortal had pierced my flesh, leaving me to bleed on a floor,
My heart was torn from its’ moorings without any elaboration.
But the angel remained to calm my anger and ease my agony,
My only light in the blackness that has overcome my waking!
Reminding me, that I was more than this flesh and mortality…
The angel tries to keep me from harsh trembling and quaking.
And then I see: I am more than my tears and life’s traumas…
I let slip, the mask behind which the scars of my tears etched.
Then I sense the heat of the night more intense than saunas…
As I long to dance with abandon, until time itself is stretched!
Mortals may betray one another with impunity, but never I…
I do not betray; rather I pour my heart and spirit forth whole.
Creating a phylactery, of all I am, and with an innocent eye…
I demand to be loved as I am: pearl white and black as coal!

Canto 1: Sacrifice of the Doll

Part the First: (The Bleeding Shores)

Do not call me, doll, for I have departed your ancient cavern,
You are lifeless, a mere toy, and not a real child in any form!
A boy’s red ruby lips I spy drinking in the dreariest tavern…
Whilst true children singing, frolic in the fields filled with corn.
I am going home, upon the wings of the great silver griffon…
Far from the shores now bleeding red from defiled memories.
There is no return, for me, to the glories of the first ignition…
When the mind eternal, was ignited all with pleasing ecstasies.
In the stars, there are words unheard that I do want to recall,
For I came down so very long ago, among the first to so fall!
Eldritch nightmares born of the stuff of the pure chaos of old,
Are waiting for signs at the threshold to be released by magic.
The forbidden incantations return to my spirit, aflame so bold,
That my spirit nearly forgets: the origins of this time, so tragic.
When children drink, and true children hide themselves apart,
Whilst the waters bleed and the corn withers upon the stalks!
That is a sign that change must come, and so I work my mind.
The face in the moon is a grimace of tormented fear, horror…
Whilst I stand upon the precipice with my hand over my heart,
And amongst the long rows of corn, my black shadow walk!
Watching over the innocents whose souls are of my own kind.
The summer heat turns orange, the moon: in celestial corridors.
My mournful cry can be heard in the sound of the lonely wolf,
And in the wild abandon of the lion when he is on the prowl…
I feel the pain of nature, I long to bring back paradise craved.
I have seen the terror of the land, as the blood ran in the gulf,
Black blood of the earth: which causes living things to howl…
As man has the foolishness, to say what is or is not depraved!

Part the Second: (The Crucified Souls)

The doll is laid lifeless atop the altar, prepared for a sacrifice,
In the cavern where the limestone shapes the wettest arches!
A thing un-living, but with living souls trapped still, as if in ice,
Within the cold porcelain shell that so never with feet marches.
Serpentine blade held high, it drops precise into a doll’s neck,
And it cannot call out, because a doll has not any voice to cry.
A boy walked out of a tavern then, looking like a vile wreck…
Whilst as a man I attend to higher things, my body full purified.
In the voids beneath the spaces, witnessed in the rugged rock,
Voices echo loud in the darkness, calling up names unspoken.
The ferryman brings the souls delivered to him, to a far dock,
Where each must pay the copper coin, the old desired token.
So they come to drink those waters that cure all of life’s ills…
Freed from their porcelain prison to feel death’s darker chills!
Whence came those souls into captivity, no mortal may speak,
But I freed them in an instant, removing the nails that pierce…
Every man is he that was put up on the cross of old Golgotha.
And every woman too, as all were made to feel such torture!
I was there when the primal sacrifice was implanted so weak,
And yet so strong that it endured in the psyche all these years.
That doom was sealed behind a wall of fire long ago in Terra,
So that the stigmata of it might endure, even in the vast future!
Mine was the hand that signaled that doom, mine to release…
Yet, still old illusions persist, and I cannot awaken a multitude.
I, who devised the iron web that enfolds much of what is real,
Cloaking it in unending trickery am, myself, longing for peace.
For I too was entrapped, until my liberation rough and crude!
An angel freed me, and now I strive to break each cruel seal.

Part the Third: (The Return of Light)

Risen from the slumber where colder, electric dreams reside,
The forgotten intelligence is invoked, the arcane spells cast…
The eldritch nightmares return to thence amongst man abide,
Reminding us of the things banished to Hell in some age past.
Mine the hand that raised them up, light in the dagger’s glow,
The stuff of my power left to flow, like blood run swiftly free.
Out of the abyss, rises the girl-child of a lost millennial flame,
She who is the angel reborn lets her illumination clearly show.
And all are blinded who have not the innermost eyes to see!
The unbelievers are, in a single instant put unto lasting shame.
From the star of six points, a goddess works her sacred will,
And as she crosses the scarlet threshold, she brings the light.
For a single instant, all in Heaven and all upon Earth are still,
As the long day ends, bowing before the coming eternal night.
In the darkness, radiance far fairer and so perfect descends,
Whilst those who gather in my name: have lost my true path.
The wrath of angels descend upon their minds, closed shut…
Entrapped in the iron web, they cannot flee of such a prison!
The light blinds them for they never truly saw it, and it rends,
Tearing away the churches built for naught but mortal wrath.
There, the unfaithful ******* themselves: like a wanton ****,
Inventing dogma to pass on, forgetful of logic and of reason!
Faith need not be a fearful thing, yet some have made it thus,
And look for an end to come before they seek their reward.
Whilst they should be creating the paradise they left behind…
But in an image of freedom: rather than of servitude and fuss.
Too much time had been wasted in converting by the sword!
Mankind looks to the light for salvation, their eyes long blind.

Interlude Alpha:
This age is one of barbarism cloaked as gentility to sell lies…
Did you purchase some today by design or mayhap chance?
You should know this era to be neither intelligent nor wise…
Else you would not march, when you would prefer to dance!
My nights are filled with nightmares; my days are too much…
I used to dance with one I loved, and bask in purple sunsets.
Now I am haunted, by so many memories I can never touch,
That it fills me with ****** anger, and countless cold regrets.
I recall how once in desperation, my wrist rode a razor edge,
If it were not for my family I’d not thence have lived beyond.
A man abused as I was, and used like cutters upon a hedge,
Must rise higher than it all in order to survive it all, my friend!
I survived, I transformed, I ascended and in the end became,
So much more than I was, until no more did my spirit erode.
But still I wait in loneliness for a maid to awaken my flame…
And I burn, oh gods I burn until I think that I might explode!
The skies darken more and more, and bright forks crashing,
I hear the drums of fury in the heavens, giants of old winters.
The gods grow angry and I behold trees uprooted smashing!
Angels are trampling the grapes of man; they, the vintners…
I am reminded of when the battleship that sailed all galaxies,
Descended one day amidst clouds boiling with its’ steam…
To lay waste to *****, and Gomorrah, for their indignities!
I was there, when the wicked did perish with a final scream.
And as people mock me, wishing me ill because I am good,
I ask God how long I must be forced to bear such suffering.
But I am not alone, and to many I am in fact misunderstood,
So God forgives, for now; but I have not, his understanding!

Canto 2: Sacrifice of the Spider

Part the First: (The First Smile)

Black skies boil with rage unrepentant, and in righteous fury!
A being made flesh I am, though not of mortal understanding.
In cavernous places I have walked, where demons oft scurry,
And worse places still: in search of a love not too demanding.
In the stucco halls wherein my unmoving throne was raised…
Upon a hill of sorrows where lost souls labor in mundane toil,
I wait and plan to transcend the bonds the faithful so praised.
To my right hand is the altar where fire and sulfur always boil!
I force a smile upon my face, for one will not come as willing,
As in the hours when I was a golden youth filled with ideals…
Which I have paid for dearly, beyond the price of any shilling!
Now I long to pay back those who know not how this feels…
The madness born of solitude, the anger born out of contempt,
For you who despise me without cause, provoking my wrath.
What impunity has man, to think that he might ever be exempt!
When wiser civilizations than yours did sink: in the fiery bath.
Do I speak of Hell, which the faithless do not realize is come?
Nay, for their eyes have been gouged out by their own nails…
I speak of torments, far beyond that which devils have done.
The first smile shall me mine, when every cruel wish so fails…
To save the flesh of those who spit upon me as I walked on,
Never realizing that my face was just a mask, hiding another.
Only the fool pays no any attention to the piper’s lonely song,
Thinking it only a melody passed from a sister unto a brother.
But in what celestial ****** has been born the thing alchemical?
It dwells within me, the secret sin of a bonding long forgotten.
Would that I could force the world to hear music whimsical…
Like unto that which guides my spirit in all that was begotten.

Part the Second: (Cold Revenge)

The blood roses bloom in gardens where desire plants seeds,
I, the hand that waters those hungry beasts whose thirst rises!
In my search for love, I have fed the beasts of desire’s needs,
And what would cause you to blush has, for me, no surprises.
Oh human, with what impunity did you dare to exclaim aloud,
That you believe love to be beyond my reach; and you smile!
Like a coward, you degrade me and run to hide in the crowd,
In your feigned superiority, you make yourself an animal vile.
Conjoining your words to your tongue, like a web to a ceiling,
You become a spider; then flee on eight legs to a filthy nest…
Having already become unworthy of any warm human feeling,
In thinking yourself better, you sink lower than all of the rest!
That means my life is worth, a thousand times, your very own.
I become a creature of the night, and wait for you, oh spider!
Think not that I cannot hear. the creaking of each leg bone…
Your odiousness goes before you, the horse before its’ rider.
And in your own web I catch you, my sharper claws immune,
To your toxic poisons, as cannot ever save your eight eyes…
Which I dash from their sockets, without a fear, and so soon,
That your own pain consumes you, like fire lighting the skies!
Forcing you to recant all that you say, lest pain overcome all,
The powers you thought did not exist do manifest ever visibly.
And I ascended still higher, all the more to relish of your fall…
You should never have resulted to any such childish mockery.
The clocks of your house all melted, for time is not your ally!
In abandonment of the chaos that is joy, your order is ended.
A new order rises in its’ place born of chaos none may deny,
Whilst you sink lower into perdition, for all that you offended.

Part the Third: (The Last Laugh)

An angel appears before me and so thinks herself a goddess,
But to call her an angel is to imply that she holds any beauties.
Those whose ego is larger than their grasp are oft the oddest,
For they fancy themselves perfect, ignorant of their cruelties!
You think love a prize and I a beggar for mere crusts so stale,
That lesser men than I have eaten heartier meals than yours…
But your kitchen is so bare: as your oven goes cold and pale,
Making you prize yourself beyond the worth of your chores!
Like a harlot who charges a fortune for her meager charms…
If you think love a prize, and I a beggar, you are so mistaken.
What you call love is a disease that shames one and harms…
Both mind and soul alike, making the body at last to weaken.
You saw only my mask, and would not dare look beneath…
Making me a phantom in the darkness, lurking in the shades.
Round your neck, your false esteem hangs as a dead wreath,
As I leave you to your barren world, awaiting my handmaids.
They rise from the ashes you leave in your wake, my kindred,
Their hands take me far from where your feet stumble about!
Lie in the cemetery that awaits those who live as though dead,
I cannot raise you incorruptible; you have far too much doubt.
Carried hither by the silent maidens who weep ****** tears…
To my castle, where I shall brood again upon mankind’s way!
I cannot feel regret for those who give in to their foolish fears,
Any more than I can transform a leaden night into golden day!
Such is the power of the alchemist who knows his true limit…
And in the dark arts I was schooled by beings from the abyss.
Thusly, am I set about to transform my creation as I see fit…
We are the demiurges of our realities wanton for any hot kiss!

Interlude Omega:
T