Nov 2014
Refuse to call her Sensei falsely,
Respect a quality untimed to a technologic beep,
a beat more ancient than the tribal drum flow,
a wind more cold than the the Summit in Winter
flying Panthers as I walk through the door of my dreams, rolling over never a choice a gym dreary, rolling over never a choice a hymn ready no longer, resounding a frequent smile in simile, my two pairs of winds high in might bathe detritus with delight feathers at my finger tips, my eyes see me as my own Polyhedron and geometry, spiraling in a torrent of heart beats, charging my batteries for three years a hundred sixty-six weaknesses feel the eel's surface carry my mind's liquid purpose no knowledge for certain that the folks to my left knew the light of tomorrow hands intertwined homogenized in ****** desire function scarce Scarab singing Jazz music freely the dirt rotates feeling the stampede atop the Earth the near challenge is knowing who's shadow is whose or the ortho- light casts veils of it's own.
The soul's propose it's own flow the ego a serpent hungers forwards slithering towards the greens with flames on it's breath seeing the birds take flight above head a prey uncaught until evolution is now leaning towards radio hearing the frequent tunes as ribs to the cavity of a god's chest emanating the tree as high as Saturn the rings around our hands, the halo above His head, the debris collects the King in his Place. All are racing space to the widest in diameter, the scope of a day only governed by the light's loop around our perspective of "el dia y todo el mundo" as he please he moves as he moves he pleases, the winter cold cries for dusk earlier and earlier whatever takes to be the (one)Tidal a lunar crescent in hand bearing Psyche as a Moon as the key to stand, Hope lives in the dark, I pander a door around the corner lives the Lucy painting her soul's truth daily ignoring the outside chronology and the trigger of social trigger, Quickness to cut through and the jungle of introverted hyper-defensiveness I carry the torch of ages through my genes trenches giving in Lapis Lazuli and the Brew he brews, Pick an arcana and Spit on the text before you read the book backwards and burn the pages on around or atop of aQuirkiness of quarks as I part eyes elementary in school zones ticketed for seeing the invisible truth- daring to run for the North to south soon to dissect into the tree. Self a fear, a fear a self force seeks wrath angelic as Templars Archon for King Jame's Ire. Breed a triplicate not shadow nor shade, a vision neither Light nor Astral but a Visage of the Sane, an Image of the Same, a Nephilim of Samael, an interest of the Identity of Unknown total to the Matrices of the Evils of Man
Respect a quality untimed to a technologic beep,
a beat more ancient than the tribal drum flow,
a wind more cold than the the Summit in Winter
flying Panthers as I walk through the door of my dreams, rolling over never a choice a gym dreary, rolling over never a choice a hymn ready no longer, resounding a frequent smile in simile, my two pairs of winds high in might bathe detritus with delight feathers at my finger tips, my eyes see me as my own Polyhedron and geometry, spiraling in a torrent of heart beats, charging my batteries for three years a hundred sixty-six weaknesses feel the eel's surface carry my mind's liquid purpose no knowledge for certain that the folks to my left knew the light of tomorrow hands intertwined homogenized in ****** desire function scarce Scarab singing Jazz music freely the dirt rotates feeling the stampede atop the Earth the near challenge is knowing who's shadow is whose or the ortho- light casts veils of it's own.
The soul's propose it's own flow the ego a serpent hungers forwards slithering towards the greens with flames on it's breath seeing the birds take flight above head a prey uncaught until evolution is now leaning towards radio hearing the frequent tunes as ribs to the cavity of a god's chest emanating the tree as high as Saturn the rings around our hands, the halo above His head, the debris collects the King in his Place. All are racing space to the widest in diameter, the scope of a day only governed by the light's loop around our perspective of "el dia y todo el mundo" as he please he moves as he moves he pleases, the winter cold cries for dusk earlier and earlier whatever takes to be the (one)Tidal a lunar crescent in hand bearing Psyche as a Moon as the key to stand, Hope lives in the dark, I pander a door around the corner lives the Lucy painting her soul's truth daily ignoring the outside chronology and the trigger of social trigger, Quickness to cut through and the jungle of introverted hyper-defensiveness I carry the torch of ages through my genes trenches giving in Lapis Lazuli and the Brew he brews, Pick an arcana and Spit on the text before you read the book backwards and burn the pages on around or atop of aQuirkiness of quarks as I part eyes elementary in school zones ticketed for seeing the invisible truth- daring to run for the North to south soon to dissect into the tree. Self a fear, a fear a self force seeks wrath angelic as Templars Archon for King Jame's Ire. Breed a triplicate not shadow nor shade, a vision neither Light nor Astral but a Visage of the Sane, an Image of the Same, a Nephilim of Samael, an interest of the Identity of Unknown total to the Matrices of the Evils of Man
