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Keone L Friesen Dec 2013
Oh young barret of the night. Who steals from the dreams of lost sain children like Moloch. The decrypted white house was nothing but A sanctuary for degenerates. the man… MAD… MAD was the man MAD, was the house, MAD were the claimers, MAD were the slaves to the slick but king of so called glam MAD was the man MAD MAD MAD.
           The barret was entering the house, leaving behind all. what has become of my young love asks me? he enters. MAD was he who entered the trap, MAD was he who allowed, MAD was who gave no warning of the moloch sacrifice being made to the two of his so called servants. MAD was all i say MAD MAD MAD, MAD was he who wanted to be hailed like Fernand, MAD was he who wanted to be king like Henry the 8th, MAD was he who wanted to use like Baron Neuvillette, MAD was he who wanted doll oh doll how can you do this.
          Oh ADONAL for if you do exist why have you allowed this, oh ADONAL for if you exist why have you for seen this, oh ADONAl for if you exist why have you told of my eternity. Oh ADONAL why? are you mad? for the people shall not say oh ADONAL well this blow over as fast as Holly or as fast of yourself.
        he who does as told, he who does what he thinks right for his so called gift. MAD for the betrayal of trust between the packed, MAD was he for the lack of word, Like a mute oh ADONAL like a mute he was! MAD was he who acted like Bromdens father, MAD .
      MAD MAD MAD MAD MAD is I for the envolvment of my cellar of time, MAD is I for what i have started and what have become of my creations, MAD is I for all, MAD is I for you, for she, for he, for *****, all mad, MAD is I for maybe i is mad.
                                                            ­                      written by Keone L Friesian. copyright to Keone Friesian
Keone L Friesen Jan 2014
In her eyes you can see death himself smiling back at you telling you a date. She has no clue i say in my mind, not but one clue!. She goes with him only wanting his eyes, they're bodies soon lay in **** sweat.
            The wind cooled off the room, and soon everything was quite. Hello? sounds a faint voice of a british school girl in search of her Rolling stone father. He left with cold war and the silence lasted long. Her tender eyes met his one day, old and frail. He died knowing she stood for everything she stood for; Love,hate,war,fight, *** and the slightest thought of Homosexuality, yes ADONAL Homosexuality.
         She walked the lonesome evening with the icy fear of death but it hit her other wise- she died hopping to find her old father humble and beautiful in the night. HEaven smelt of jazz and Claire de lune, the gods played Mingus for days and then some rock and roll, HA! devils music they called it.
         Where are we? and god said, you are in my hunting ground for bad men wanting the clouds. sure its a beautiful place but its hot here, its uncomftorable for me. Please believe me like all the other poor ******* who did. All those idiots and stupid folk queers, rapists, phycos , Negros and the Notorious white man himself… believe me. How else would you live without dying? this gives me comfort for all else is but a ******* lie and a promise i have made to you, i will not die? *******. Is this why we have religion? to comfort man from the thought of death?
       Stop breathing on me.

— The End —