The level is twice as deep, so it’s twice as cold, passing the heat & fire,
I got & felt, get up & feel, get up cause it’s real, got up & ****.
Some do, some don’t,
**** around & start & riot, spit up some lyrics, too late with that emergency call.
I’ve tasted martyrdom, it’s holier than ******.
A-lot people crave in their yearning, but they all stay bluffing, hollering at the moon, all alone.
You’ll be nothing but bone & ashes, with Grandma
the only one remembering your name.
Monks singing in my ear, ‘**** mystic, ******* ****’. So, if they’re at least attractive,
they’ll be sacrificed on our holy shrine.
It’s easy to be smacking fake poets, gypsies, monks, mystics & muses. My own death is at the back of my mind. My gun is loaded.
Feeling no pressure.
You’ll be next to Dante, next to Baphomet, witnessing Milton reciting, its the best place & it’s within your destiny.
Bleeding in in vain, hating is in my nature.
The ones who can transcend here & in the now can talk about, can’t stand yourself, I understand, it’s hard to come to grips with how you ****** it up & missed your boat. And that’s within life & not even forty yet.
Once upon time, you were an idol, you’re not even a rival now, it’s a crime against humanity, trust me, destroying you is that easy. Put don’t any pen for any blank paper that you write anything on, no one cares & the only reason you have anyone around is out of pity or a quick session. I get it, you’re ditty, I’m musings, you rock boys that’s borderline ****, I rock royal europeans. You’re getting smoked like rolled **** in this realm of reality, I’m not perplexed & rest in the thought it’s supposed to be, like how women ain’t meant to be like you. Terms of you, its easy to glock & aim. Sure you got some skill in the style you live, in the way you create art, you may call it yours, but I call it bitting. Don’t puff out your chest. Accept it & move on. Surrender. I made it out of addiction, instantly learnt how to transcend, you’re the same since sixteen. Unable to part from your past, we all die one day, it’s not a crime unless if they catch me, if they rush my home in the morning, Demons & Masons will storm the station in the evening.
I’ve been peeing in a cup since I meet you, your body has no value, your soul has nothing of value, thoughts spit out junk, emotions of a dying old lady who hadn’t lived. When I raise my knife, I’m going to cut some skin & if the ***** thinks I love her, the ***** don’t know me.
It’s
been
written
God
doesn’t
like
ugly.
Don’t even try eating makeup. I got your friends popping their head at my very thought.
Mean mugging don't mean nothing.
My confidence is in the loud,
your insecurities are in the public.
I’m too legit, the Mystics know the difference between me & you, me dying that’s ludicrous, no respect from me, I’m vet, if I’ve got to do some silence, its only a minor setback, I’ll be right back with Demon, Transcending Enlightenment & a six-pack.  
Your thoughts are not legit,
mystics relate to me, some are younger than buck,
pimping is easy,
no one is thinking of you as a person, so stay of the tip of my ****
https://www.amazon.com.au/Inherent-Sin-Darcy-Prince-ebook/dp/B07FR5FW42/ref=sr12?ie=UTF8&qid=1535754370&sr=8-2&keywords=darcy+prince

(How many more funerals do we have to endure, before realizing that not only life is here now, but one another. I am unsure what on the correct actions. But promise now, that I’m here and willing. And why is it, the only ones that are lonely are the ones who are real and can offer not only wishes of these earth but the offers from the world where Muses live?)
Thought I hit rock bottom, wouldn’t you if we could trade places, as others are getting rich, instead of a war on poverty, there’s a war of being normal and fitting in, came up and get pulled over but I’m legal and got away cause I’m clever. Ever meet someone who’s real and in development of being better than yesterday, every face is the same in your eyes, give me mind and don’t blame the dealers. Settling on less and point to the stars, on three, give love to the real mystics, you still feel me? Mystics get pushed to the side and forgotten about, because they’re introverted, I just remember James Dean and will live in death and now who’s the biggest gang in the world? The bourgeois or the trend followers? On my back because I’d rather be myself. They’ll pay top dollar for your soul, snap. One mystic teaches two mystics, three mystics teaches five, we don’t die, just multiply and blast on the lesser of worth. Soldiers of the century. A blessing to be somebody, so I’m a blessing to anyone I open up to. We all die one day. Ducking to abandon buildings, laugh till I’m crying, rushing behind me, carefree and if they dare me, I’ll share all my secrets and if they come and get me in the morning, Mason will rush the station in the evening. Normal telling me ‘no’, you’ve been waiting for this for a long time, its in my final moments of life. Jealous as people. Yearning freedom yet work to be normal. Work until the issues is burnt. Antisocial on purpose. Do it to them before it’s done to you and if I die by ******, take a look at my peers. From Manly to beach to Queens, keep your eyes on your prize. When the smoke clears, your soul is finally free, heart of soldier, brains to fill libraries, here on earth as Musing droppings and immortality is reached and experience. Do dirt, your hands will be *****. Live in the light and **** the darkness. Regret what you said, a life lived, not using the present to parent the future, a waste. Smile to brighten the stars because these shoulders can hold so much. There is a difference of mindless violence and deliberate actions. Conflictions happens within the duality of wanting to be yourself in silence and knowing wanting others to notice you without conforming. Life full of controversial. It won’t budge. Get and feel, get up because it’s real, get up and live. There’s a difference of living to fit in, while in mindless despair of knowing who you are. It’s unfortunate that one can forgive while one can’t forget simultaneously while living. Worsens when one can learn from it. Blasphemy when it teaches There’s snakes, silent people in the dark, there’s apples, people show their real self in the dark, there’s dogs and cats. You’ll never see them if you’re living in the fog.And if it’s a self produced fog, it means there is a self made solution. Don’t holler my name. Where poetry fails in no language in existence that describes everything about being human and being fully alive, when it comes to it, only the inner world is damaged because of it. Makes you nervous on purpose. Your inner world is your turf. Use not your chest puffed out, use your heart and walk like a giant. Sometimes it’s hard enough to deal with your family. You’re glad that they are made and just mad because they differ. **** this ****, I’m going into exile. Hanging with the gypsies, stolen my watch, bang on the camps, party with the moonshine in the veins, has a poet confessing secrets, while it inherents the wonders of this world, I like that and become a Muse in end of my life. I hold myself back, cause told not to let them phase me, otherwise they’ll make me crazy, couldn't catch me with my people, on my back because I choose to be different - snap. They wouldn’t understand even if I opened up, trying to stay free of mundane, pack of wisdom. Game is what my Muse gave. It’s not the way I made it. Wasn’t turned out this way, just the way I raised myself this way. But ****’em, they’ll die lonely in despair as the what's done in the dark comes to the light and wise laugh like the Joker. Addiction in my youth. Recovery approaching thirty. And all I saw is the same face. Got any last words? Not after me. Can’t make my life, nor can you take away my life, you can shoot one mystic, but can’t **** us all. Until learn, let us raise wisdom and the world of romance. Much love to the mystics who are there and ignored. I see clearly and the wants of the normal are pulling you down. One way or another, they’ll be giving it up. Here we go and don’t stop. I’m still around for you. Dispute the silence you give me. Despite the length of it took me. I’m refusing to give up and I’m seen as a major threat, cause I can remind you the things you want to forget and to what you want at the same time. I love it when you give me time and attention, because it’s what I can give you, but despise when you’re not around, cause it reminds me of the horrors of my own flaws.spitting facts and ain’t afraid the hold back. I ain’t like no other man, but lets trade places and you’ll be able to see what I do. And the only times that I change is when I get better, just add in humility mixed with introvert traits, and everyone forgets about me. Rendering questions of why bother and other jealous ones get the glory. And if it wasn’t overwhelming like the beauty of a Supernova, I’ll be running up on your lawn with all my might and blast enlightenment in your heart. For now, peace to real Mystics. Who get up and feel, because they know how real life is. And I ain't going back to hustle game. If it’s against all odds for love, than I’m willing to roll my dice. Not at the reasoning of never saying ‘no’, it’s because I’ve seen your worth and I’m blinded to the rest of the world, I rise myself to go after people who are worth than man’s gold, they’re always known for flashing. Touch my heart, I’ll open your soul to the Heavens above, it’s been written that I must, tell me no, avoid and throw anger. Do whatever, it will happen in the end. Be the real I’ll always be, breathing or dead. What would you do, if you were me?
https://www.amazon.com.au/Inherent-Sin-Darcy-Prince-ebook/dp/B07FR5FW42/ref=sr12?ie=UTF8&qid=1535754370&sr=8-2&keywords=darcy+prince

Seemingly alive, in perpetual longing time, burden with emotions, joy stops, pain is felt. Thinking mind relentless, I’m an entire generation as singular individual. Heat rises, sounds amplified, rooms seem smaller when I step in, life dares me to forlorn not to live. It has no remorse. Morals and ethics, human. Beauty? No love found. No love lost. The burdens of living, twisted. Soundless, slow, precise and shafts of hope that is really false. Complete poetry and thinking philosophy. I am alive. Despite of everything.

In life with the ups & downs,
when the street lights come one, the gypises come out,
all my life, got told there’s something wrong with my mind
& it’s been written God doesn’t like ugly,
so bought myself a gun, stay on my grind.
I joined the outsiders in exile, learnt street talk,
dwelled in mystery, looking onto history, as a tool,
wrapping myself around the present to ease the fear of the future,
Drinking red *** , roll me the blunt,
dived
into
success when I know how to self-validate.
Perhaps my
genes
are different
https://www.amazon.com.au/Inherent-Sin-Darcy-Prince-ebook/dp/B07FR5FW42/ref=sr12?ie=UTF8&qid=1538518619&sr=8-2&keywords=darcy+prince

I’m thirty, within myself, owning myself, to match my inner world with reality, you’re more middle age & still trying figure yourself out, a turn off, smack yourself now. To my Muse, I see dead people with talking heads. Forever youthful I am. Brought myself from the dead, it’s okay, I see & hear, like the butterflies, I bleed poetry & it’s amatuer now. Peeked inside your soul & feel my cripplying hands. Never be free, blinded within yourself, accept, life is over & not even forty. Word to William Blake, this is too easy & earth still has no Queen. Dynasty in the arts, forever lost humanity in repetitive behavior. In double mysticism I keep on display, you’re always in regret, avoiding to live, keep your heart close cause no-one cares. I’m writing these lines, your trapped in self-delusion. Never reaching platinum status. I’m packing secrets for blackmail, bending over backwards, even if you’re snapping your spine. If Baphomet wills it, your soul is dying now before death. I’m feeling no pressure, flinch, street wars, I’ll be snatching your necklace, pawning all your jewelry. Used, dried, let your thoughts be in riot within your mind, suffer now, burden to everyone you meet. Clutching your heart, everything you want depends on my will, time moves forward, perpetual stuck, hex to move back in each second you draw in a breathe. Mundane, cause there is nothing of substance behind closed doors, full of fashion to use as veiled, everyday person & common like the wind. That was a boy you’re willing to give a heart to, opening soul, where should of been a muse. A nightmare to white parents, being a house that allows for no swearing, a problem child in adulthood, talking back, zen you’ll never had. Your house is broken home & never sing for the moment, no one hears & if they do, it’s in hope to get into your pants, cause it’s too easy. I guess the world is a *******. Talking of hate, instead of being great. Never to rebirth. People turn on you, because you exist. The world is on the edge of your eyesight, never seen. Your full of **** too Jones, that was a ***** who hit you. Moments of recapturing fever isn’t life. Moment to moment, mood to mood, swinging thoughts isn't the pendulum. Hopeless. In truth there is always bitterness, harsh terrain, rough landscape, scars & teardrops. Deprived you’ll ever be. Dried between the legs, never to bear. A desolating story, best chances to sell yourself to a novel. No sad poetry. Weeping in the twilight, realization that people notice & never to lend a helping hand. Still unsigned, having a rough time, sitting the porch, busting random lines, let us commit to Baphomet, maybe a sacrifice can ease your distraught soul. Carnal ripening, can’t relax on this grind, I love my natural highs & I’m popping like Angels in the light of the sky. Guns hidden, in war I don’t waste time, I have rebirth under my comment, so I’m super-rich, it’s a preface to Holiness. You’ll be next to dead poets in the genre of the unknowns, it’s destiny, accept it now. Afixed to failure. Throwing this shade is all too easy. Hoping to finishing. Coming up, if you’re willing to write, you were respected, might win some smiles, or some frown, you’ll always be unsigned with no hype, just a *******. I let you slide for so long & all I feel now is nothing but hate, **** your value of any kind as person, Ray’s got a case of Ak’s, with no safety on & no acid for dutch courage to run up n your lawn with mad guns drawn. You missed your boat. Hermit in modern Australia, just a loner in self induced isolation, I never fold or holdback now, look at your track record, never to learn, just a slave to life’s allusions & depressed because the allusions are yours of tragic made hands labour. I can't believe I’ve stepped to your level to pull this & make it public. I ain’t going to eat, ain’t going to sleep or close my eyes to blink, until a heart combines with a soul, than to the mind & explode harder than a supernova rushing to a planet. Pollen death. Times up, close your eyes. I was too much for you, because you’re too little for me. I wouldn’t hold my breath, I’m not lying, I don’t even have to ask, I already know. An entire existence is beyond blasphemy & writing this is not even amateur, let personal demons smoke you like rolled ****. You’re just too old. A symphony for hell is your very cries. Who has the last laugh is the Outlaw Mystics, using your life as a toy for their experimentals. I’m a slave to my own will. You’re a slave to fantasy. This ends when flesh is being burnt on the cross.

https://www.amazon.com.au/Killing-Philosophy-Reflection-Darcy-Prince-ebook/dp/B07F9QVCW4/ref=sr13?ie=UTF8&qid=1538122712&sr=8-3&keywords=darcy+prince

Seemingly alive, in perpetual longing time, burden with emotions, joy stops, pain is felt. Thinking mind relentless, I’m an entire generation as singular individual. Heat rises, sounds amplified, rooms seem smaller when I step in, life dares me to forlorn not to live. It has no remorse. Morals and ethics, human. Beauty? No love found. No love lost. The burdens of living, twisted. Soundless, slow, precise and shafts of hope that is really false. Complete poetry and thinking philosophy. I am alive. Despite of everything.
https://www.amazon.com.au/Her-Darcy-Prince-ebook/dp/B07GBCMWHS/ref=sr11?ie=UTF8&qid=1534764910&sr=8-1&keywords=darcy+prince

Pyramids, eyes, people and mixed races, tall, lean, red eyes, interstellar. Rain does not happen here, plains of san, heat and trading with different planets. Twilight slopes. Humanity now, since making contact, everyday progressing one hundred years each day. Transfixed on wisdom. I wonder around, hearing different languages, strange signs and golden objects. Dogma, religion and any deities have no meaning but philosophy still has. The Masons are the closest there is to religion. Some of the peasants believe that Zion had arrived as the elite profits, with the behind the scenes still mold reality, the air still reeks of paranoia and the way reality presents itself, there is more still need to be found. And my travels are alone, running till my legs give-out, but I don’t cry anymore, I don’t even want to die anymore. On the outskirts of civilization, I mediate, preparing my entire being to bust out and Illuminate those willing to let me in. Complex, metaphor and metaphysical, I’ve awakened myself and reached to a point where I need to share myself. Not to save them, but to increase the quality of life as time spent together. I blossomed in a self-induced void, grew sick and tired of it and fought my way out. I’m stepping out as I stepped close to the neo-capital of Egypt. Unity now, since the war had settled and dust feel, like dew on a winter morning.I dressed the same so I wouldn’t stand out and walked silent, so they won’t be noticed with my varying accent. Humanities professed beliefs is always different from their daily actions performed in each moment they live, it’s why so many complan about it, while forgetting to change themselves first. I stood to the side, it’s been marked for me to wait, no longer on death row. Vibrating anticipation, wondering where my contact is? I laugh now, seeing all those lizards walking around now and accepted, considering the amount of years the theory about them was being laughed at. The jokers never are remembered. I assume they’ll take at least an hour. I veil my face when I see the police enter the same alleway as I am waiting in. they walk straight to me, clinch their hands and point right at me, telling me what's my business waiting here for, I gesture that I’m mute. Didn’t buy. Throwing me to the way and checking my pockets. I carry nothing besides common crystals. I feared what they’re going to do next. They rip my clothes, exposing my tattoos. They laugh. And any crowd that had formed had dispersed, silence hits then they draw their guns. Crazed fluorescent lights, cholera flowers bloomed from the sand we stood on. I spoke their language, reciting the words I had for the connection I’m waiting on. They didn't reply, just asked me to follow them. Mortal now, immortal later. Stretching my soul. The only way to spoil reality is to be immortal. We arrive at some obscure spot, where only Egyptian Gods dwelled, everything is cleaned and well groomed. No one started at me, by now I felt safe enough to let down my veil. Coming through like the wind. They sit me down, across from the throne. I can’t tell them yes, if they don’t ask. All the servants leave and police leave. A string of violin music replaces every sound here on earth. Finally the Pharaoh steps out, alone, in a violent way, puffs out his chest and instantly makes eye contact with me. I do what I need to do. I undress, exposing my **** body and my tattoos. Sitting down about one hundred feet between us. The Pharaoh sinks into a rest and relaxes his manner. I step forward……………………………….enter via behind the curtains.