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Soren Knight Aug 2014
My mind is a void of darkness,
The absence of light,
The gears in my head,
Have rusted over;
The lightbulb has burnt out.
I am the last one,
Of the Order of the Grey.
The rest have fallen and gone astray.
When death greets me like an old friend,
My secrets will disappear.

-Shadow Prince, Guardian of Secrets,
Of the Order of the Grey.
Aias Agapios Aug 2014
...We knew only the dark, dying, thirsting for a glimmer of the light

We are those who have no reason, except to seek a sliver of soulful life

We gave up our hearts, we sold our ego, white eyes still see, we feel no more

Sound ears still hear, sore tongues still wag, proud fingers still hold on
But the inside is dead

Afeared of loving, of a pain too strong, afraid of living, in case we did it wrong
 
Plastic bubbles were made, cosmetic shells, metal gears to hold on to our shattered selves

Scriptures written, unspoken words that have no sound
Marking our arrival into light, as we create a foe over-strong 

But the day is bright! The day is long, 
And in the 'Light' we saw that our visions were gone
In the light we saw that their vision was wrong

A people spent, lives passed by in existence, wasted away, as the Word had said
Words written, and left unread, as His Word forced wisdom into oblivion; as, oblivious, lives were spent

Stone churches rise, tall steeples proud, grey towers piercing our white-grey clouds
Preaching answers to our souls, tolling bells that splinter hearts, spinning webs that blind the perceptive arts

Enter, man, and mindless, heartless, unmade, depart
Enter, man, destroyed, debased, unnatural, depart
Enter, man, let the Word tear lives apart

Witness the rising of mausoleums for free thought, 
Bleak cemeteries ensnaring once natural souls

Entranced, entrenched, bewitched, under spell
In the 'light' where dying hearts lay in eternal rest
In the light, unthought dreams, at once, suppressed






From the sounds of the trees, and the whispers in the leaves,
Till the breath of stars, where we find who we are

Fear the shadow of the light, over names, bicker, fight
Till the sky turns away, and Destiny weeps at folly's height

Seek then, again, and in seeking look to find
The stars in your heart, and the forests of your mind
Seek then, again, and in seeking look to find,
Words and tongues and dreams and thoughts, dancing shadows; unseen sights

Words that tear through what we know to be true
Thoughts to define the visions of our minds
Dreams that let you see the path to set you free
As free men constellate, sharing visions with the blind

Until at once the dream is done, the night has passed, the Light has come
Men abound, their hope undone.
Set aside, and cast away, until the Meraklis entered the fray
"Be calm, be free, shed your shackles! Be brave
Unbowed, unbroken, against the morality of their lies 
From unseeing currents that tie stone to sound
Seek your truth as she walks upright and unbound"
First part in a tripartite series
iamtheavatar Jun 2014
The death of order
is the birth of our
*******.

**iamthe_avatar ©2014
Don Bouchard Jun 2014
Living under the watchful ticking,
Your "Regulator" clock kept time;
Mercantile calendar days running down.

I never knew you to complain
A day in all your life.

Art Pribnow married you,
Removed you to a little place
West of the Yellowstone River
To farm and set the world in order.

Probably the sun
Checked his schedule
Right over head by seeing laundry
Hanging in straight strung rows
Beside the sharp white buildings,
No stone out of its place.

Only Order
Everywhere, but...
I wonder sometimes.
Companion to "Art Pribnow"
Tomas Denson May 2014
What if i could see my thoughts
would they chase each other around
a chaotic melange of colours
crashing and swirling through the  mists
an ever moving cacophony of intelligence

would they be stately progresses of comprehension
an elegant forest with deep thirsting roots
seeking knowledge as sustenance
branching of mind expanding to catch the wind
of thoughts rushing by

could they be complex mathematical equations
sharp and precise, proven to absolute
no doubt, no grey surrounding the theorem
the purity and truth of numbers
running the reality that is me

a mix, i think, of all
a chaotic mix of order
an ordered mix of chaos
that makes my thoughts mine.
Skin flaking away to shreds
Breathing a fresh whiff of mockery your way, my way,
Shrouding their compliments and
My pride that turned stale
As they were uttered.

Alphabets
Lisping out of my mouth
Numbers
Trickling out of my mind
(Not a hospitable host,
This existence of mine, they recount.)
Fears & dreams
Going into comatose.

Clock-hands pointing at me,
At the stroke of wakeful realization
Like arrows, yanking out and
Darting past me, in all directions
On a time-bound mission.

Sounds, gone out of tune inside of me
Screeching out of my ears
Favourite colors, smells, sights
Now driving me nauseous
A choking cough that echoes
(Was it not supposed to stifle it, like in movies?)
Of all of these
Crashing at me,
Trying to weave again
That familiar path on that train
That leads to the crossroads of that maze
Of self- destructiveness
That I seemed destined for,
No matter where I'd exit from.
("The exit is only a dead-end!", a fleeting voice quivers)
As I stagger under weightlessness
While familiarity squints into a blur
and
Alienation burrows a happy home
Mute stares from my end lasting three nanoseconds
Angry for they still don't get it
Thrilled, breathing a sigh of relief.
For I get it, lest I should forget it,
This, where I had arrived.

Or

Was I inhaling stagnant complacency
Slipping into the reprieve of familiarity again,
Of accursed i-dent-ity
Wait. Am I getting familiar with myself?
P.S. Things you held dear
Where are those now?
Were they yours to admire?
Or mine to own?
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