You know why its so hard to let go of your demons.  Because they held your hand when no one else would.

whispers of the daughters of angels.. echo waves and chants to my soul.. broomstick highway, flight of the midnight shade.. emerald eyes, sunshine shadow, moonlit silhouette, of the dark angelic child.. angel children, left alone become the silver ravens, flight or fight.. burn burn burn.. an order.. to return.. witches.. see them fly...

All the light around me almost seem to fade slowly away.  It was then I saw where it went.   The new light God harnessed almost all of it and turned it into a weapon.  Rings upon rings of pale light danced around him.  Within the rings where stars upon stars.  He hurled the rings toward me as they moved faster than light themselves.  I tried to flee but the rings were attracted to my armor that had absorbed much of his spiteful light.  I then released the energy and directed it toward the chasing rings.  The rings shattered leaving behind white holes.  The white wholes siphoned up all the left over shattered light fragments and fed it back to the revenge thirsty light God.   He was now in route toward me.  He had 1000 suns spinning around him.  My armor was depleted of all his darkness eating light.  I advanced toward him.  Let the battle begin!   S DIVERS

i had seen this old indian outside alot..
he was moving rocks and digging holes here and there..
i asked him if he needed help..
he spoke in indian to me but i more less knew he said "yes please help me"...

i did alot of the work for him..
his old body could no longer really move or lift some of the rocks he wanted to move..
we followed this strange old writing in some old piece of cloth which he seem to understand..
the old writing was like a diagram or map on where to put these white stones we were moving..

i wanted to ask him why we were doing this..
i try to use sign language the best i could..
his answer was a pointed finger to the sky..
as i was done putting the stones in place the old indian dug up one last hole..

he then grabbed my shoulder and pointed to the top of a mountain about a mile away..
then he pointed at the hole..
i more less understood that the final stone had to be on top of that mountain..
so i made my way up..

much of the rock on the mountain was more of a red color..
let alone the mountain was not to hard to scale..
there was only a few places where i really had to climb..
finally when i made it to the top there i saw it sitting there..

the white rock seem out of place up here..
i gathered it and put it in my pack..
i look down toward the indian in hopes he was looking up at me..
then i saw what we had been doing..

the white rocks we were placing in the ground created a symbol that was on that piece of old cloth..
this final rock would make that symbol complete..
as i headed back down the mountain the wind begin to pick up..

the wind carried a smell of atmoshere (rain) it was quite nice..
my little adventure back down seem to stir up a storm on the horizon..
as i finally made it back to the grounds i noticed the storm almost above us..
there i saw the old indian fully dressed in a beautiful head-dress..
his face painted with black and red..
although old he still looked like a warrior!
he then held out his hands and i gave him the final white stone rock..
It begin to rain as he placed it on the final spot he had dug up..

The symbol was complete..
He then signaled to me to come to him..
I went to him as we stood at the center of the rebulit symbol.
He then pointed to the sky.
I looked up and saw the sky light up..
Lightning then danced all around us!
I was scared at first but saw that the stones were absorbing all of the lightning..
Then a sound alot like thunder came from the clouds..

The clouds seem to open up as i saw these strange lights emerge from inside the storm..
A vessel of some sort hovered above us..
I was in absolute awe!
I could not speck and was suprised that i remembered to breathe..

A person or something waring a head-dress made of light came from the vessel..
It took the old indian inside the vessel and then away back into the storm clouds..
There was then a surge of lighting once again and all the white stones flew into the air and seem to wisp away in all directions..
I know I saw what I saw! But till this day no one believes me..
I am now in search of all the white stones and have been for the last 50 years..

One day Dostoyevsk talked to me in dreams.
In my early teens, way before the time of my life.
A stripling adolescent,
misspent juvenile youth.
I sat on the roof of the bakery,
reading The Devils.
Over and over again,
until it started to make sense.

Before Kierkegaard,
I found life hard,
no meaning, no dreams came true.
Quantified in my mind,
applied to doctrinal differences I found within,
authenticating the delusions and disorientation of this absurd world we live in.

It all Sartre(d) with being and nothingness.
A cultural movement brought to public providence.
Ominously before I was born,
but I was still torn between being,
and nothingness,
like everyone else.
Distinguishing secular humanism,
rejecting pseudoscience,
apparently.

Now the Blade run’s across my skin.
Married to the cause,
with the force like Harrison,
can you appreciate the retort of
my existential crisis.
We could get lost in the Matrix,
in the “necessary absurdity of the human condition and the horror war”
Like Kubrick.

There’s beautiful new tricks I use to wake up each morning and go about my personal piece of silver screen.

rummaging through the ruins
of the landfill, his sole fellow explorer
a cur, content when his snout sniffed mold
blissful when he discovered a can

his aspirations grander than the canine,
he hoped to find artifacts of the ancients,
and digging deep he did, an Apple, one of Job's
first magical machines, the monitor
dull but without a solitary crack

then a turntable, its diamond stylus
long turned to nub, veneer half peeled
by the blade of time--its final symphony spun
eons ago, or at least two dozen years

finally a Dr. Pepper sign, an old as time,
its 10, 2 faint but still there, its 4 long gone
the masterpiece's artist never lamenting
its weathered fate: he too had his time
his labors filling his pockets, pleasing
his eyes, and immortalizing him
in the open bowels of the earth

I paint a single wing on your back.
You are my broken angel .
My sad light from above.
I am sorry for letting you fall.

Another guardian fades.
Another prayer left unsaid.
I'm made of shadow and shine.
A warrior of both dusk and dawn.

I paint a single sword on your back.
Fallen demon knight from below the abyss.
Lonely shadow tears turn to pale light.
I am sorry for letting you fall.

Another guardian fades.
An empty worship of lies.
I'm made of shade and glow.
A warrior of both sun and moon.

On what use to be colorful.  
On what use to be sweet.
Oh how the setting sun bids us goodnight on the street..

The summer with you.
The fall away from you.
Come time the winter.
And the spring to see us true.

Its time to sing.
Its time to dance.
Its time to ride into the night.
Under the old moonlight.

I can hear your voices in the dark.
I can hear all of you talk.
I pass on by unseen.
As a ghost or phantom or perhaps a dream.

I wonder then is it all of you whom are
alive or is it simply us living in a dream.

Time can be the treasure for moments.
It cannot be bought or sold.
Whether it is slow or fast
Young people will start to grow old.

It can make a seed bloom to a flower,
A spark into a flame.
It can only be spent or wasted,
Permanent or could stay the same.

So if you have time
To make a change for good
Don't let it pass by
Or it will stay where it stood.

The demons within me sometimes torment me
They torture my soul
There's this constant inner conflict going on in my head
Am i fit for this world?
Do i need to change myself in order to survive?
Am i a good person?
Questions like these haunt me every night...
...not allowing me to sleep
I mostly suffer in silence
Sometimes i do weep
I can't explain these things to no one
I can't share these things with no one
I sometimes feel so lost
I sometimes feel so weak and helpless
I sometimes feel alone among a multitude of people
Slowly but surely i'm going insane
With whom do i share this horrible pain
I sometimes wish i were dead
The problems
The sadness
The depression
At times it all becomes a bit too much to take
But then i realize..death would be a cowardly escape
I need to face my demons
Eliminate my self-doubts
Take my problems head-on
Fight it out
Take a few blows
But make sure that i will be the last man standing

I mount this magnificent machine made of star glass and light..
The 2 wheels are made of shadow skin and glow alloy..
The machine is call a Lightcycle.  
Powered by an emotion engine that the rider gives power to with thought and soul.
The magic begins when the rider mounts it an the star glass shell fills in with the rider's imagination.
I mount my Lightcycle and endless blues and lightning fill in the star shell.
The emotion engine turns and I am catapulted to the stars..
Its then the lightning bird spreads its wings as I then reach speeds beyond light and darkness..
I wind up on the outer rims of the 17th galaxy Heaven's reach..