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The Ripper May 2016
Inside: rot,
      outside: youth,
                        a black heart;
                              beating just for you.
          You love the man
          under the mask;
           that ghost vvhom nobody else knovvs.
This front rovv seat to the cogs:
I trust you in degrees,
that leave me exposed to your fancies.
Cut me open; non gingerly,
tonight.
Greta Wocheski Oct 2016
i didn't ask for it but now i'm here
still learning how to breathe.
o, such dense vibrations
gotta learn how to be.
this new world
is something
new to
me.
                                                       - g.w
i'm from the 5th dimension.
Moonbeam Aug 2016
Everything feels fake
While I try to reintegrate
I'm so expanded and 3D is so contracted
I'm not even turned on, I'm not even attracted
The way people live, the way people see
3D thinking is a waste of my energy
I'm unenthused by the boredom of this plane
Everyone wants to be in control, everyone wants to stake claim
Stick with profound, stay away from profane
Chill like a tree, step away from the propane
Don't set fire to yourself and your path
Give people room to breathe, no one cares about your wrath
People are so preoccupied with looking like they're cool
But in reality they're nothing but a tool
Now don't get it confused
With something you can use
It's someone that will abuse
They don't care about your views
They only care for what they choose
Which is something where they win and you lose
What is this place with billions of minds
With trillions of thoughts that will be our demise
Self loathing, hatred spewing from one mouth to the next
There's rarely anything spiritual about modern day ***
There's no making love, just hurry up and ***
There's no facing problems, just drink beer and ***
How did I get here, is this really what I have to see
I know what my purpose is, to show people how to be
Not like a preacher, just hand them the key
I know the truth and I live by example
Come see me and I'll give you a sample
Some fall in love when they get a taste
The rest run away in all their haste
Thinking that they're better and smarter and cool
But running from truth just makes them a fool
There's a place and time for what I have to say
But it's not for everyone and it's not everyday
People who hear me are the ones who are supposed to receive
They have a greater purpose if they're able to believe
Knowing there's so much more than what we can see
Go beyond the physical, peak into 5D
You were my altar! About your ears I recited my prayers, my waking prayers in my soul by the contemplation of the beauty of your magnificent lips, the esoteric contours of your body and my spirit wanted to hear the songs that emerged from your mouth, delicate whispers aroused by my whispers in your ears.

You were my altar and I wanted to enter your temple, go beyond the veils that hid your mystical sensuality and behold thee naked, revealed before my eyes. My mouth wanted to reach the honey of your ******* and sweeten all my judgments.

You were my altar, and my lips constantly wanted the wine in your mouth, revealing in my mind the secrets of the Divine that dwells in you.

You were my altar and on you I recited my songs, my sutras and litanies written in the siddur of my soul.

You were my altar, my esoteric Garden, and your Lotus was my heavenly song, the Bhagavad-Gita of my heart. I was your Arjuna and you was my Krishna ... ".
Dipankara Vedas on the altar of the Sacred Feminine Femilinidade to Esotérika - The Poetry Of Awakening.
"Perfumes up, who poetess for a woman, it makes her as a mystic rose, exhale about themselves, their fragrance of her sensuality."
The Ripper Mar 2016
Thrashed interminably
to find a Death
like this,
Death like this;
digs d
          e
            e
               p
                 ,
to make      room,      for you:
that
obdurate;
                    swart;
                  ­             gelid;
                               merry-go-round.
In the centre of
                    maelstrom;
tranquility lives,
as 393 echos evaporate
                                 amid Amaranth
                                 & Hibiscus,
                                 Amen.
Silence! The voices stopped. The only sound I hear is the wind howling over the stones, the ancient building ruins, heaps ravaged by time punishes them as an invisible whip. Even the demons are silent now ...

I hear the most croaking frogs and even the sound of crickets filled the night with their songs. Rooster was. His voice was quiet for forty-two years. The only sound now is the voice synthesis of old hardware, metal head that red-eye placed on top of the old marble counter.

- Sir Water? - She asks - The radiation level is low today - finished. The same song sung once a week. The voices? They were silent. Demons are silent now.

Ahh! I wanted to hear the voice of the old rabbi, that white-bearded long peyos when he said to pay attention to the little voices, the voices of the humble, enlightened wanderers, sparks of mystical alphabet, warning humanity that the day would come when voices calariam.

There inside, the demons remain silent. Their voices were silenced by the voice of evil that planted residence in the left chamber of the heart of man the temple.

The ghetto is cold today. People gather around the fire lit inside the old barrel of oil, black blood, called him. It no longer exists. The veins are dry and the blood no longer runs more ...

The white spots covering skin. It should be a good sign, but it is not. Leprosy went devouring the souls of men, women and children. Neither the animals escaped. Contaminated are exiled. They send them to the valley of oblivion where the voice never will rise. They used maliciously. They slandered her. His calumnies were launched in the wind like the leaves of the old oak tree that stood in chaiim forest. He also stopped. The wind no longer howls more through its leafy branches.

Ahh! Where is the voice of the rabbi? He was dead by religious dogmatists. His bright sparks no longer crackle through the air. Even the demons no longer speak. They shut up inside.
Where are the voices of poems and poets? It is also silent. They were causing itching ears of humanity. They accused: - the mighty were the leaders of nations, with their palaces decorated with blood. Blood of the innocent. They made them shut. They caused itches to power the ears.

The gleam in his eyes blinded. It was in 2029 detonated the old Russian gun exchanged for a piece of bread to feed the starving children. All of them died with nuclear heat.

Silence! The voices stopped. The only sound I hear is the wind howling over the stones, the ancient building ruins, heaps ravaged by time punishes them as an invisible whip. Even the demons are silent now ...

Ah! Where is the voice of the old rabbi? I wanted to hear it now. She stopped. Even there inside there is silence now, even the demons whisper more ...*

By Deepak Sankara Veda (Misha'Ël Ha'Levi) Mystik Poet
Is poetry came from humanity's twilight dictated to me by a soul of the apocalyptic future of the world in february 2011.
Kiss my soul, write your mysteries in my essence, because your mouth is Sacred Calamus, worth noting the Divine secrets in my mind. Your kisses are God's angels that escape from your mouth, the portals of Paradise.
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