Virgil:
For all your troubles,
Wisdom, guidance-
Dante still left you in hell.

The Guide and I into that road
     Now entered, to return to the bright world;
     And without care of having any rest                                         135

We mounted up, he first and I the second,
     Till I beheld through a round aperture
     Some of the beauteous things that Heaven doth bear;

Thence we came forth to rebehold the stars.

I put God on the stand once
It didn't go so well
Omniscience doesn't translate
Into duality

Yesterday, I sat on the shores of Acheron.

It was before christ or maybe British Columbia hard to tell, my lens was clouded
The mushrooms were telling a story.
Do you know what story they told me?

The truth hurts cause the truth comes from the ******* of bovine
And we are all bovine … some sacred … some dinner … some just simply cows
And I wish I had bovine spongiform encephalopathy

At least then I would have an excuse for being a mad cow or raging bull
Either/or, a **** machine is a good thing for this world
Because: mushrooms.

You have to go in through the out door
And Frost told us long ago “The only way out is through”
And Rogan gives this knowledge away in the aether via Amber.

So what does the gateway into the **** have to say to me?
We are the monsters under the bed. The spectre’s lurking in the closets
And Yahk, BC is the place where answers get spewn out in chunks and spurts.

I thought the only way into the underworld was Grecian.
But a warrior poet knows the way,
And Chris would always and in all ways die for Bella.

Cause what is an eternity without your One
It is eternal damnation
So across the river our hero goes.

He slays everything in his path, beast or brethren
Now the illusion is destroyed
The underworld is deceased except for one.

Residing in the mirror lives the final causality
Casualty?
Only if you want out.

And out is through
So you destroy the Self - id, ego, super-ego … you decide
Covenant in disarray.

And what is born out of it?
The river styx no longer
But instead … the river phoenix

Wizards, witches, and warlocks

Charge nurses really,
Isn't that ionic
And yes I really do think

Much more intelligentsia than wet nurses

But everything has a time and place

Expressionless Gene

Wilder

And warlords destroy beauty and intelligentsia chasing a lost or stolen dream

Look me in the eyes and tell me I am not already dead.
Look within my soul and tell me, all is finally at an end.
Look with your silver eyes, which reflect my very own.
A chaotic wind right before the deadly storm.
The redden horizon, fading into the coldest of blue.
A will of a way, left to burn within the goodwill of our mortal souls.

I see you Dear Brother...
A man shroud in the facade of a devils red clothing.
But men, we are not...
Are we, O brother of mine?
Two hidden lies, masked within a mould of our own demise.
A shell our mother has bestow upon her demon spawns.
Masqueraded truths smeared, until all came crumbling down.

I spoke of my hatred as I slipped from your grasp.
I fell into Hell with a malevolent wrath,
a curse befalling my tongue;

I hate you

Another lie, another sin.
Added to a pile of our transgression,
shadowing us in its path of our own destruction.

Look into my heart and see my love.
A love, which has not commenced into something dark and malcontent.

Look and see another me, (mirrored in your stare.)
Look and believe all is fine.
Look and tell me my blue coated wrath,
is nothing compared to the inferno of a burning Dante
while playing the part of your savior, Virgil.

Two souls, forever intertwined.
Both born under the sacred son,
but destined to fall under baited spikes.

When will there be rest, O Brother?
With my blade in your chest?
Or the indirect request of your blessed reprieve?

Look, before all is too far gone...
nigh is the time,
Look and you might just see...
Me.
but alas just yet,
maybe,
you shall see a piece of yourself as well.