She — she sees the stars
in eyes — in eyes that
shield the sun and yearns;
She burns to complete their constellations.
She — she learned the world
through the vacant gaze
of those — of those who’s
love is born out’f manipulations.
She’s ill — ill from the
colors, noise, the emp-
-ty reflections in
the mirror of social masturbations.
She feels — feels the shift,
tectonic plates — the
weight of souls — souls which
drift to shape the soil;
The weight of them bends the Earth’s vibrations.
She shares her fate, with
those souls — souls which shape
the face of Earth —the
fate of which to walk
the plank of their own civilization.
She sees — sees the mess;
How Mother bares the
brunt with body stripp’d,
bruised chest and ruptured
hips from the disease
which wears the crown of her own creation.
She smells — smells the depths
she’s in — it stinks like
old neurosis’ sweat
and spirit mold — taste
cosmic rust on tin
tongue; She’s cold inside her contemplations.
She has visions — vis-
-ages of prophet
flames, let them scorch the
deserted planes of her meditations.
She hears — hears the crash
the Thunder sounds, the
Boom! The children glow in radiation.
She wants to cry — to
cry revolution,
but can barely mu-
-ster up the bones to
demand for some damn-good explanations.
She who knows — knows her
needs but without will's
wit will feed in-to
those who live and breed their condemnation,
is not without creed,
and she knows — She un-
-derstands that to be
freed by the seed of
Nirvana is not —
not to be free of those obligations.
Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 7:41 PM UTC
She — she sees the stars
in eyes — in eyes that
shield the sun and yearns;
She burns to complete their constellations.
She — she learned the world
through the vacant gaze
of those — of those who’s
love is born out’f manipulations.
She’s ill — ill from the
colors, noise, the emp-
-ty reflections in
the mirror of social masturbations.
She feels — feels the shift,
tectonic plates — the
weight of souls — souls which
drift to shape the soil;
The weight of them bends the Earth’s vibrations.
She shares her fate, with
those souls — souls which shape
the face of Earth —the
fate of which to walk
the plank of their own civilization.
She sees — sees the mess;
How Mother bares the
brunt with body stripp’d,
bruised chest and ruptured
hips from the disease
which wears the crown of her own creation.
She smells — smells the depths
she’s in — it stinks like
old neurosis’ sweat
and spirit mold — taste
cosmic rust on tin
tongue; She’s cold inside her contemplations.
She has visions — vis-
-ages of prophet
flames, let them scorch the
deserted planes of her meditations.
She hears — hears the crash
the Thunder sounds, the
Boom! The children glow in radiation.
She wants to cry — to
cry revolution,
but can barely mu-
-ster up the bones to
demand for some damn-good explanations.
She who knows — knows her
needs but without will's
wit will feed in-to
those who live and breed their condemnation,
is not without creed,
and she knows — She un-
-derstands that to be
freed by the seed of
Nirvana is not —
not to be free of those obligations.