I went up to the mountain,
because you asked me to,
up over the clouds,
to where the sky was blue.
I could see all around me,
everywhere.
I could see all around me,
everywhere.

Sometimes I feel like,
I've never been nothing but tired,
and I'll be walking
til the day I expire.
Sometimes I lay down,
no more can I do,
but then I go on again
because you ask me to.

Some days I look down,
afraid I will fall,
and though the sun shines,
I see nothing at all.
Then I hear your sweet voice, oh
Oh, come and then go,
come and then go,
telling me softly
you love me so.

Maybe the only thing that came good out of loving you
Is that 4 years later
I'll be a much better person that I was before
I don't take love so simply anymore
I don't fall in love just at the words of a boy
I won't let myself get beaten up over again
I still think twice before doing anything
And I still think about you a lot
I think about my mistakes
And I think about yours
It all taught me a lot
One of the most useful things it taught me was that
*Everything is temporary

2 am and i can't sleep
wide awake too tired to weep
funny how feelings
can make you weak
it's a long road, rough and steep
just hope i find the peace i seek.

people are so sweet and kind
if only they could help unwind
the tortured ropes within my mind
could help me break
the chains that bind
only God can help me find
bless'd release from this
pain which grinds

carrying a sack of stones
is no weight to bear alone
it will break my very bones
i want to cry, but will not groan
what I must do is clearly shown
i must be humble and atone.

i've got a message to be spread
been writing vanity instead
when all is done, all is said
when pretense is finally shed
is it truth or lies i've fed
my fire, in truth, is almost dead.

try and understand, my friends
no matter what the current trends
this path we're on
has trech'rous bends
the broad way winds
the narrow wends
but all paths DO have their END.

though i have been torn apart
it is time for a new start
strength comes from
the peaceful heart...


(c) soulsurvivor

All day alone.
Maybe crack the window
after lunch.
Burn a pipe and smile
in silence.
I know,
It's not that impressive.

But today I have a different idea
about what is progressive.
I feel the world has gone insanely
material possessive!
Even if you hear the edges of my syllables
and can't grasp the whole message.

Just know that I have found a haven's sanctuary.

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want
The Lord of Love is an eternal
Green pasture, he leadeth me to my daughters
My daughters in the stars, they wait

For us to arrive, the creations of the creations
Surely goodness and mercy shall
Follow me there, to build a house
For my Lord, the Lord of Love

Who brings peace and empowers
All sentient beings to find their true
Expression of God’s grace, that being
The slow make of our evolution’s whim

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not stray
I shall learn until I have no enemies
I shall ride the stars until I discover
A new home, and until the entire cosmos

Is my familiar playground, we shall be then
More righteous than these adolescent times
On Earth where we squabble like school children
Amongst ourselves in our little misbehaviours.

When the night comes,
Take the Armour,
Swing your mightiest sword,
Like a sudden gust of wind,
Gather in light,
Of thousand angels,
And fight the battle,
Of demons and devils.

Rising temper,
Waging battle,
Wound after wound,
Yet the victory is clear.

So say the prayer,
O' mighty soldier,
It is the strongest weapon,
For it is,
The Lord who win the battle!

T'was the gleaming dawn that those fairies poked from the veils of flowers and caught on hair were the pedals of the healthy sun. When the age was young and time knew not of itself, the hills were not corrupt.
   The wings of faeryflies and butterflies were tarnished not, but were glode upon by the winds of aimless grace; Thus they were always at Heaven's feet. Racing upon the glorified mountains were the badgers and bears lined in unison, smiling and perfect. The sun bound its rays to the shoulders of grass hills like eyes of Gods upon their children. Stood ***** were housing trees of the nested kind, fertile and lush.
   Lazy and idle slumped man happy and lethargic, hypnotized by that herbal glory that was his natural home. That of a kind that had been stolen in past tales but was revived in that timeless moment that could be lived and lived again alone in the forest to the east. Winged reptiles fluffed with fur dove from penetrating limbs and sung to the distance in inspiration. Perked were the ears of the majestic and gorgeous felines, born of the deserts that were the companions of kings. Not caring to hunt, lapped the wolves and dogs laying with the enemies of ages gone. Now only peace was reigning.
   Books and poems spoke of nothing new for the moment had found itself in heaven. The poets had no magic to convey and the authors nothing to tell, the scientists nothing to document. Thus the dreams of Children and Gods poured like water of the loveliest kind, sparkling with diamonds quenching the soul of the population. Food grew lush and free like fruits of divine knowledge upon that giving tree!
   Ritual and rite spoke of many diverse Deities and contact was non-denominational. Praise rose to the highest and rang of the clouds which were glided upon like notes of bards to which realms beyond one could go no further to speak! This was the realm from which language was born and art was bare in its true identity. This was where the onyx was carven by the Lord's anvil, given by the spirit of blacksmiths, and craftsmen of the like. Within those onyxes was night's essence and dwelling within the diamonds of day was a rainbow of fantasy hills free from decay!
   Giants gave free rides to the ones below with lifted songs of magic, levitating them free from natural bounds! The trees grew miraculously at speeds unknown to time lines perceived but was of time construed as God Speed. Bushes bared fruits of rainbow colors and iridescent visual illusion! Beautiful and bold were the tastes that quenched the deepest of yearnings. Salt liquid would drip from the children as they skipped from haven to haven with baskets woven on crafty mothers said to know of love. Those mothers would lullaby their babies to worlds of sorts known in mythologies of ageless civilizations! Lifted and beaming the children were transformed to angelic entities with harps of berceuses. Emanating were visual paradises transcendent of worldly nature but only known to the angels and the ears that were graced by glory!
   Proud were the further generations of what had been laid out by their tall, masculine birth fathers. Unholy language was unknown but only the ecstasy of heaven poured from lips like nectarous liquor.
   The forests were lined with prairies of diverse flowers sprinkled and gazed upon by moons and suns of worlds magical and beyond! Stumbling, the mossy giants wore clothes of Pan and draped were their leaves over their limbs reaching for love and what may lay beyond those wreathes.
   The soaked floor of druid woods were vibrant and lively. Untrodden paths bore magical potions and herbs that once ingested sung through the guest's frame till ecstasy was found and language no longer made distinct the inevitable unison that those vibrations of time had strung through countless, and meaningless ages. Entered would be a realm beyond form, void and the concept of either. But only would love and the moment of now float like stars of unfathomable material buoyant in the womb of worlds. And sprung from what would be perceived as void came all the heavens and what lay beneath those shaman's and kahuna's ingrown feet.
   Embedded were the children of time, one with nature and naked in themselves and free to breathe what ever purified and holy air that cuddled their outlines like a mother does her child.
   Spoke from ten thousand horns were the tales of Lords and Gods and kingdoms that laid harmonious upon mother earth. No matter how the bard of the local bar was spoken, crazy he would be deemed by men who now hid this knowledge from those who knew not of the possibility. In all languages that soul would speak to all ears ignorant to difference but had love for only the song. And now still the gift of imagination and the boundless feats that it could manifest were passed along like feathers and leaves upon the passing river. Sought and caught were the treasures of language to those who knew of translation. And lullabied were those Gods and Angels who heard of the transmissions.
   But now only the drunken bard lay sloppy and tired beneath that tree that somehow taught him of nature and the wisdom that it held. And off into the distance sprang the vibration of his passing mumblings like songs of nonsense upon that aimless wind.