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POSSIBLE Mar 2019
Ever present life...
Ever present life...
3ver press a k̫͘ń͙ḭ̧̼̳̠͔f̢̺͙̥̣e̵̮̯̟̙̰ͅͅ

against the dying, glowing l̵i̎̓ͣ̚ghͦt͂͌ͧ͌̄ ̛ͣͧ͐̾ͦ̅ǒ̐ͩ͌̓̾͋f̡ͥͪ̑͆ ͝ļ̉̆̎ͮ͛ͪͩĭ̶̎̉̐f͑ͪ̓e͗̏͛ͥ͆̏͐?


W̡̠̘̭͛ͪ͋ͦͤa̘ͫ̆̒̈́͆i̗̳ͭͯ̾̇́̓ͫt̫̍ͭ ͈̠̯̻̖̪̹͌͑̽ͮ͛ͮ̃a̬̪ͫ̅̅ͯ́̈̓ͅ ̵͓̱̰͚̬͓̪̿͆M̞͍̤̤̱ͩ́̆̇i̪̬̟̪̹͍ͦ̓͗ͪ̐ͫ̐n̻͈̦̥͕͉̍͛͆̋̐͊u͍ͮ͌͛ͣ̀͘t̯̣̓͊̍̐̄ͧͦ­̭̝e̺͓̱͈̬̫̊ͯͥͨͯ͜ ̹͔̳̞̇͂͢this can't be me!̝̙ͦͧͧͥͫ̕!!

CHECK MY FIELD, REALIZE!

Still Sun Tzu
hit my enemy first
in the verses
no physical damage
no trauma purses to manage
I already lived afflicted with curses
from savage researches

Till I learned to shift my boundaries around me,

...That there’s still power in !̝̙ͦͧͧͥͫ̕category!̝̙ͦͧͧͥͫ̕

But not enough to stop me !

I broke the two ton shell OF CULTURE
but I’ll never stop hearing this ocean swell
sailors fly by wave to the 9th sign

Hi.



Î̝͎̪̮̣͎͈̮͖͈̼͕̞̠ͭ̍̓́͛ͣ͠͝ͅn̫̭̹̼̰͇̱̠̠̐̾ͨͦͪ̓̎̅̌ͬ͌̀ͦ̚͟͢ͅ­̭͉̲̱̙̼͎fͫ̆̐̾̂̃ͯͯ͌͑̄̌̀̅͂̔̋̀͘͏͎͇̭͓̜i͈̮̞̙̭͖͇͇̝̗͈̜̽̓̾ͪ͛̿͂ͯ͂̇̌ͣ̓ͦ̿ͮ̈͘͘­̗̤̞͈n̷̷̡̠̘̘̦̬̣̺̟͖͍ͮ̾͂̈́͟͜ĭ̙̳̩͓͕̍̃̌͂͋ͪ̂ͧ̓ͨ̉ͨ͌ͨͤ̈̚͟͜͝t̵̴͖̣̳̤̊̈̎ͥ͊́e­̛̺̭͚̻̠̞̙͍̞͚͉̝ͨ͑̉ like a Shepard’s tone.
      
   
    Passionate like a Shepard's SON.

Intricate like a l̀e͊ͧ̓͛̑ͦ̃͠o͐ͭp͒͢à͢r͒́ͬ̅ͣͤd̑̍̿ͤͮsͦ̋ ̊̈́̀ͯ͐̅́tongue.

[[God said to me]]:

Work under the light of e̴͏ff͠ort͞ SON

You cannot break the stone without the Wind and the Ocean.

So we wander back into the liquid crystaline vision
Waves wander and ponder up through and fill my being
We release the storm my drips speaking.

But I can't hear cause there's still Too Many Lights.


Easily distracted
by how others say
"stay away from illicit people ..."
Illicit people ...?
More like
people illicit

[!?meaning?!]

formed inͧ̒͂ͭ s͑͆͒ͯͪ͊̚tͩͩ̂ͬͬͬ̌e͆̏͗̽e̚ṕ͒l̅ͮͤͧ̉̈ẻ͋̈́ͨͪ̓sͤ̆̍ͥͮ ̉̓̚

Responses from the ghost markers
self-induced parasites better host dollars people!

FC*K that!

>NO MORE BEING SILENT MY LOVE <
-Just watch and listen-

Tectonic plates shift
when I talk back

Demonic cosmic rift silent
when I talk rap

people never seem to mind
unless you say I did that

But you better believe
This ***** not much more than a formality.
Fancy phantasm shorn from reality .
Never base your life in a fallacy.
No waste your life chasing the phallus see?


L̎̒i͐ͤv̡e̓ͪͪ̔̾ͤ ͥm̓̐ͨ̑̈̄҉a̎g̒̽̍͛̽iͩͩ͑͟c̎ͬ̏̕ ̡̂ͫ̒̊ͧͪ͆
Like Harry Potter,
I always catch the snitch
end the game break my fist͆̓̽..̔͌̓͏.̛̾ͩ̒ͣ

So few leave this life of crime
now I teach yoga
super stack your spine
till that ***** aligned  
so try and find me
I’m in orbit right outside the mind b.

To look up my next move in the dictionary
doesn’t make it a **** move, this is :

"My **** is hairy, I let it out at night like Bigfoot
and its OH so scary!"

Now WHATEVER YOU believe .̔͌̓͏.̛̾ͩ̒ͣ
.͆͊̚҉̦̝̪͈̗̝.̜̭͔̖̲̓̍̈́͗̉̽
.͆͊̚҉̦̝̪͈̗̝.̜̭̓̍̈́͗̉̽
I’m married to my Wife,

my Diction,

God and Mary.
Easter EGG???????????????????????????????

I'll ask of the berserks, you tasters of blood,
Those intrepid heroes, how are they treated,
Those who wade out into battle?
Wolf-skinned they are called. In battle
They bear ****** shields.
Red with blood are their spears when they come to fight.
They form a closed group.
The prince in his wisdom puts trust in such men
Who hack through enemy shields.
A skaldic poem composed by Thórbiörn Hornklofi in the late 9th century in honor of King Harald Fair-hair and his berserker warriors and one of the earliest accountings of berserkers. Translation from R.L. Page Chronicles of the Vikings. Toronto: University of Toronto Press 1995, 109.
Kore Nov 2018
release me
strip down my skin
shed the timorous flesh
of humanity

release that
beast that lives
in the notsosecret heart
of hearts

release me
let go my womanflesh
let my teeth out
of their prison

release that
tearing ripping ancient
moon beast
of days past

she longs
to stretch her legs
test her teeth
be released
i literally just want to be a werewolf that's what this is about
Vaniexe Kafka Sep 2018
The sun has finally set but the moon is nowhere to be seen. The smell of the sea reaches his nostrils as he walks by the bay feeling the soft caress of the wind while relishing his dreams---so lucid--- he thought it was real.

The soft waves of the sea touches his feet and as he looked down, he remembered how he was also looking down at his feet in his dreams before he saw the lady that haunted his night.

Then again, 'It's only a dream', he thought.

But, as he moves his glance up, a lady of ethereal beauty occupied his gaze, taking his breath away, making his heart skip a beat.

Her eyes, he thought, are the mixture of the ocean and lightning as they blend their colors.

Her soft eyes with a touch of danger was the very hue that haunted his every thought.

None of his paintings of her caught the life in her eyes.

And as he walk towards her, still captivated by her eyes, he finally came to realize why he always felt a pull and a need to go to the sea; to this sea.

The missing piece in his life has finally been found, knowing that the sole purpose of his life continues, more than anything,
"It's because of you."
He uttered as he sensed elation spreading,
feeling like he has finally come home.
Entry # 1 To the Book I Will Never Write
Nikita Aug 2018
It's not the full moon
its the people
who
turn us into
monsters
Aleyna D Jun 2018
The pale sickly boy bursts through the thick foliage of the woods
His heart racing, face-blazing, eyes bulging out of their sockets
And then it begins…
The moon, the boy thinks slowing, It … It exudes
Magnificence in the palest of lights, every crater like ancient golden pockets
With a cry of anguish, he is no longer man

Body splitting, tearing at the line between two realities
Soft pink flesh turning into coarse fur
Teeth turning into razor-sharp fangs
The creature lies there panting; there is no need for formalities
The boy now knows the creature well, but his colliding memories become a blur
The wolf a feral rag doll as its beastly head hangs

Hunger drips down its murderous maw and the wolf feels nothing
Humanity has been ripped from his every vein
Bloodlust is all that fills the hole
The beast runs up a knoll covered in soft spring grass, ferocity still plenty
The red ferrous liquid invites the creature down making it grueling to keep sane
Instinct says it must pilfer souls, commit a theft, and break what was once whole

Treading menacingly through the village, a wild demon
Innocent people seal themselves into useless wooden homes, ready to repent
Their fear all-encompassing, like a lamb before the slaughter
The wolf’s ears ***** with the soft thud of its paws, feeling the earth underneath weaken
A yearning, the creature drools at the thick scent
A thing of nightmares left alone with a poor man’s daughter

The inner war within the beast gains a new thunderous beat
The boom ripping at the soul
The boy had always felt that his human life was his reality
But nothing had ever felt more real than his nights as a beast
No longer able to tell the difference, he sinks into that endless black hole
Pondering darkly upon his morality  

Disgusted by his own attempt at brutality
The boy turns away from his panic-stricken prey, frozen in place, praying to blackout
He has to make a decision, to do what must be done
The next full moon, during his transformation, he experiences a sense of finality
They feel a change, a shift in power, no longer any doubt
The boy and the creature lay down their spears, let go of any fears as the forest goes silent with the sound of the shotgun
Natassia Serviss Nov 2017
Hour by hour the moon continues to rise.
She's way too bright and he's as dark as night.
Oh what big lies you live.
Why are you both so deceiving?
Oh look how hard it is to forgive.
Where's your excuse for leaving?
Run away, get away before he swallows your sanity.
She's built her argument on vanity.
You found love in the darkest parts,
The place where you can't have a heart.
She built it on a dream and a delusion.
He grew out of that plot and that illusion.
She loved him true, the only love she ever knew.
In her safest hour on his dimmest day, all she wanted was for him to pay.
He meant no harm and she did no wrong.
We know they hurt and they're not strong.
Little red, my friend,
there is no need to pretend that you didn't know this would eventually end.
At least in fact, you're both still intact.
You're not the victim and you're not the villain.
Both born of moon and light, they would always fight.
Now the wolf and red are in separate beds.
Their story together is a memory.
Another 2013 poem, written about a toxic relationship my friends were in.
sunprincess Nov 2017
A midnight chase, a werewolf's face
O' this night, so bright
So bright


As a hunter's moon of silver
does shiver and quiver
Along banks of a mighty river
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