They say when you go through trauma
It either kills you
Or you forget it.
They don't tell you what to do
when the options blend.
There's no hotline to call
when the memories you've buried
claw their way back up your throat
like the pills that didn't work.
I am a causality of a war I never fought in.

I cut my hair short so I can wash it in the sink,
For the days when my shower turns into a tardis I cannot control,
A time machine with only one date.
I have grown sick of not finding refuge in this time and place.
When I shave my head,
I think of how impossible it is to pull a buzzcut.

I write the date on every piece of paper,
But I don't really live here.
The present is just a hideout from the past,
The future a threat of going back.
I am on the run.
A fugitive of broken memories and stolen hope.

I lock each door in my house
five times
before telling my mom goodnight.
I check underneath my bed,
Move the clothes in my closet
until I'm sure I can see every part of the back wall,
and leave its door open.
I bend my eyes into every corner and hollow spot.
I will not go to sleep.
I will dream myself awake.
I wake up in my bathtub time machine,
Raise my face through the surface of the red water,
My long hair wrapping itself around my throat like promises from a time when I still felt alive.
I will probably scream,
And find myself back in my bed.
My family won't hear a thing.

Addicted to Love
She used to slowly caress my hand-
She would send chills down my spine-
We would indulge in white lines as ecstasy got us high-
One journey of a heart established in her lies-
In her eyes I could see the twisted world that she believed-
So drunk on insecurities highly clouded by ****-
This is the devil’s disease-It is the devil’s fortune and fame-
In love with a substance-I became in love with her name-
Thin haired needles puncture love to my veins-
My heart would beat with tweak-
To the rhythm of the dope game-
The rhythm of the dope game-
WAIT-
What was all this ******* for?
Saying you love me as I lay incoherent on the floor-
The steamy smell of three and half turned to four makes way through my body escaping my pours-
Till the core of my soul lays alone in its own cold-
And what was all this for?
It was a ***** stained love as glass pipes held dreams of hope-
Torched lit fires turned ambition to smoke-
LSD became creativity-till the pits of hell were roamed-
And what was all this for?
It was for love-
It was for drugs-
It was my only way to cope-
Understand?
Under gram erections stood alone penetrating holes I’ve never seen before-
Moans of stupidity released thoughts I ignored-
But I adored the feeling of evolution elevating me to heights un-soared-
Where lands of all man reach limitations to explore-
My body begging me to stop but my mind is begging me for more-
Refugees and causalities lay naked on the shore-Track marks leak the scent of and all and out lost war-
And I’m still not sure what all this was for-
Maybe it was for the thrill-
The thrill of submersing all my rotten thoughts that plague my good will-
My will to live among humanity and grant myself the freedom to walk among all of G-d’s family-
But tragedy strikes at the heart of the lost kind-
Where bleeding bodies are buried by the sands of time-
Where a generational cry turns to generational screams, where a generation in denial becomes generational fends-
And bitterness soaks through her cream where lost visions of the future become a long distance dream-
And the subdue substance that once claimed me now allow me rhymes of exploration,-exploring things I’ve never seen never dreamed never thought I’d ever be another statistical teen-
But I’ve grown-I’ve grown for the ignorance-The ignorance of believing I can make sense of life and relevance-That the heaven sent failure no longer has remembrance and the continuous hell bent world that destroyed me now gives me a halo of sense and for the first time-things make sense!
So I set myself forward down a road of reflection, reflecting on things I meet at my souls introspection-inspecting deep dark thoughts that beat my soul to redemption and I question-
I question why I stand here ready to go hand to hand to prove I’m a man when all I really want to do is show her who the **** I am-but I can’t-
So I close of my angels and reach for the devil within and its plaguing me why can’t G-d see that I don’t want to live in a dream-I just don’t want to be-
Please-
Allow me ease-
As I dream of moments with my old love-with my old drugs-with my not giving a ****-
Like why the **** should I care when no one else does-
So instead of the drugs I will pick up a pen and write a rhtymatic flow about the places I’ve been-and now-the only addiction I have is writing my hymns-
For the hell hath no fury for the devil within but in the end-
Well in the end-
She slowly starts caressing my hand again man-

The Sun Is Shining Today
The Storm Has Finally Stopped

a statement says:
<we have done something yesterday
nothing like our best
just something
to stop that storm>
the statement returns true as fact

inconsequent gestures of nature
we weave
to serve an unknown wish
-made of numerous physical and non-physical senses-
so that fabric of a network  
evolves  itself
materializes sense
sense to fabric
fabric to sense
scientifically improbable it remains

an infinitesimal loop
unwinds when you are not there
runs within an ideally operating closed circuit
remains invisible to the factual eyes of daily lives

an etheric vitality
materialized by our definable senses of touch, of smell, of see, of taste
and some of yet undefined ones
- possibly  assigned to maybe a Poetic Variable-
executable within that program of simultaneous causalities only.

So then Only then
When You Combine the patchy Network
of Things
of Beings

You Can Dance Them
Sing Them
Play Them
Make Love To Them
Become One With Them
Compose Them

but

All these on condition that
it remains as an unpacked gift

Without telling to Yourself  
or to Others
or to That Storm
because
You Don’t Even Have An Intention To Stop The Storm
All you do is Wish for Sunshine so you can maybe bike tomorrow

But again

How important is it really that biking tomorrow ?
I mean when sighs and cries whirl around?

a statement says:
<you can’t stop wars by fights>
the statement returns true as fact

And

if I know that
you can stop storms by touches

touches to smells
smells to lights
lights to metals
metals to elements
elements to stars
stars to flights
flights to a breeze on my fingertips
breeze on my fingertips to an auric kiss

then

I think maybe it is **** important to keep a seemingly futile wish to bike to a beach of my dreams tomorrow
so that I can be blown away on a broken December day
and let my long hair collect dune corrals  made of cosmic ray

Huh So Yeah

I can Stop Storms if I want to or Create Some!
- not because I need to for my own sake or think about it.

an excerpt from internet:
"In fact, one interpretation of quantum physics is that physical reality does not objectively exist independent of the participating observers. "

anticipation mounts
as time lapses,
real time movement
quick, power, force
dark.
inertia spread for hundreds of miles
announcing its arrival.
its call. its loud. I feel it.

he’s beautiful.
I remember always
to look for
his speck of bright orange.
he knew a day or so
ahead of time.
since youth I heed the warning signs
signaling darkness.

my connections are sharpening.
this time I didn't need
his.
I watched the dark roll in

the darkness of creation,
of cells multiplying.
the darkness of your blood
rushing at the feel of
the storm coming in.

the task of light is commendable…

the geometric puzzle
can have no missing pieces.
the destructive force of
the storm
is necessary for new life.

if darkness is truly desired
one must dig ever so deep
beyond the identity
and the memories,
the causalities even
the perceived authorities.
to the spark that
still isn’t you.
analyze that space
darkness will truly come true.

fear not.
this darkness is you.
you percolate into
the presence as the light.

Orange rinds and coffee grinds
Take me back to easy Sunday afternoons
Playing chess with former churchgoers in your tiny café.

I met a man who didn't believe in God
But instead put his faith into the Queen
"She protects" he'd say after ousting another piece of mine
"He forgets" he'd mumble as an afterthought, directed at no one.

But as it goes one fateful day
Student surpassed teacher
And didn't think twice about killing the Queen.

As if a bomb detonated just within the cappuccino brown walls
The chessboard flung against the wall
Causalities flying in all directions
A porcelain blood bath.

He left in a hurried huff
All owl eyes all snapped in my direction
I sat frozen -- shocked.

You broke the trance
Kneeled down to pick up the fallen Queen
Placed Her Royal Majesty in my right hand
Placed a free coffee on my table.

The café resumed it's normal character
Scattered chatter and newspaper shuffling
I took a sip of the burnished brown liquid
Tasted a hint of bitter citrus
And came to conclude that there exists a distinct conflict between
Power and Empathy.

you’ve had your whole future mapped out
since you were 16, sitting in homeroom
and hand-picking your life.
me, i’ve got no plans to speak of,
still trying to figure myself out;
everything major still undecided and undeclared
because pandora’s box is
always really pretty until you open it,
and the future’s really alluring until you’re in it
and you’re wondering if it really fits.
and i know it’s stupid trying to
plan for a car crash,
to plan on ******* up  
but i’ve been trying to take precautions
in case i don’t grow into who you were counting on.
i keep your promises tucked in my pocket,
you make vows just to talk about it.
and i don’t know much about fate
because once my horoscope actually told me
that i’ll be alone and unloved forever,
born under an unlucky star,
so i’m not placing my trust in the stars
even if sometimes i get the sneaking suspicion
they might just be right.
i’m trying to dictate my own future without having a tongue,
i’m trying to find a future i’ll be content living in.
people are always waiting for time to run out,
and i’ve always been waiting for the fall out.
because i know all good things have to end
all bands have to break up, all stars have to explode,
all slow dances have to still, and eventually
all loves have to run out in one way or another.
and i’ve got front row seats to
the inevitable explosion
because you’re a heart attack and i’m totally doomed
we’re just bombs going off too soon
we’re just strangers dancing in a crowded room
we’re just ****** up and wishing on the moon
we’re just racking up casual causalities
we’re just reading our fortunes
in the coffee grinds and tea leaves,
half-joking and half-a-little-too-honest
when you peered at yours and said,
“it says we’re gonna grow old and grey together,
and move out of the city and have a bunch
of loud mouthed kids with your eyes.”
i don’t know about the future
and i suppose you’d like to tell me about it,
after all you’ve had your whole future mapped out
since you were 16, sitting in homeroom
and hand-picking your life.
but it’s an affliction, all those ******* predictions.
don’t tell me where you want to be in five years in from now;
tell where you’re actually going to be tomorrow.
because i was dying for this week to be over
and then i was dying for this year to be over.
and i can see it clearly,
my whole life lived in transit
on the way to something else.
i was dying to finish high school
and then i was dying to finish college
and then i was just dying,
and i forgot to live in the present in my rush
to get to the future.

The darkened corners of forgotten yesterdays clouded the view as the gaping maw of need stared across the chasm at necessity .  Almost as if there was a reason for it’s contiguous constituency it reflected the myriad animations of it’s creator .  Crystalline forms in infinite diversity beyond the subjective sublimations of mass crowded the integral forms of it’s subjugated spontaneities perversions as the well of it’s unity sang of the cause for it’s being .

The single-mindedness of it’s recumbent beginnings were all but lost to the ramifications of itself as the children of it’s repulsion waxed and waned .  

The twinkling of an eye , the integration of ages , countless extrapolations of it’s ******* vanished into the nature of their being as the tainted refuse of their wanton progressions began their mutual processions back to the source , or wandered through the surrealistic ethereum of their eternally predestined nothingness .

Causalities purity reigned as all became the reason for it’s own creation , and vanished into the implosion of it’s own *******

While there was the alchemical conclave with Valekiria and the ****** foliage of her in the veins of her beloved, the lightning of the advent of the palfreys was felt. Etréstles, goes out and looks through the strip of the between tent, making sure that Alexander the Great's entourage of Tágmati was there, bringing him his missive, Etréstles warns Mardiath and the others. While the General retreats in awe with his Leonatus falling to the ground depressed from some of the blades, from the riddled herds and the nits of the lycaon in the middle of dismounting. He sneaks up to the marquee where his main commander Vernarth was! He sees him surrounded by inexorable probes ..., pre-existing of such prosapia and losses of the Poimenandros, in all the Shepherds of Men who approached a greater one, when breathing in their exchanges of credibility, and of Vernarthian passion archeology when being introduced by his thoracic pectoralis right, leaving here before his eyes the visible and bloodless of his main artery.

Alexander the Great says: “Khaire, I wish joy to my distinguished Commander Vernarth… !. The General Raises his hands clicking and spreading tiny earrings, to grind them on his face, they were sent by the Falangists, paying homage to him! They were pieces of horse leashes with gold fillets that they ripped from the hooves of cavalry, and from the breastplates of bruised containers. With the tips of their fingers upwards and from his face, they appealed higher to Apollo's presence, and then they bowed to him.

He says: “The last time I saw your individual, we had alternated him to see the enormous bravery of his over-proportioned of him, which our Vernarth imposed in battle. You arranged your army in such a condition so that we would face all its parts forming a large rectangular, at such exterior angles where only your fierceness peeked out, being able to face thrusts derived from anywhere, not being an angle outside the defensive geometry. I saw myriads of Arrows fall on our army, I paid attention to our Lord Vernarth Hetairoi, going with his right Thoracicae Pectoralis lacerated, also semi hanging with his Aspis Koilé. You had your thigh and shoulder blade with impostor arrows that did not detract your spirits to continue ****** trampling of enemy Persian angels, being incapable before you! You mounted Alikantus and with all your momentum in an extreme insane act, you ravaged his insistent enemy ranks. There the omega happened in its exalted moment that I could see over your great courage and bravery, beheading all the Achaemenid troops. Today we have won thanks to your invaluable recklessness. Now I will go after Darío, after his escape in search of new scrolls, which is what the world did behind him, who should never have exposed himself against our alliance with our army and his historicity "

Vernarth replies: "Khaire, Chairetízo ton dioikití mou gia to thánato tou pesménou phantasma, I salute my Commander for the death of the Fallen Ghost." All submerged in the Dorus-Xifos with multiple edges impregnated in the fractions of the kardiá, like a new blood alliance that has to provide us with a new life beyond our deaths. In the hand of the smithy, smith will reside the new land where we have to implement new expeditions. " Brisehal, my Hound of Dash-e-Lut, stifled his ambitions by tarnishing superfluous designs. Now on his broken plain dystrophy, there are signs of panics, which only He instilled on undamaged bodies in the Falangists, they are deponents of our intrepidity, and of the wild rebellion that caused the flight of the Achaemenids. On the glory that did not cease to aspire, I will go in my stir up to meet my paradisiacal ancestors, gratifying the great brotherhood to the kingdom of creation by bustling through the great chimneys of Hestia, and from the universe, departing from its own powers of power, and from the uncontestable love, which makes us coexist with our extremities without anything being clearer than the very trace of their gales, more exceptional than the same that others must reward with adhesion by representing them under all limits that exceed the superior ends. "

From that moment on, everything narrowed into territories of energy, faced with the excesses of events and energetic waste that extended into exquisite archeology of evangelizing events, where its background fluctuations of retro causalities, entered into the observation of the events of energy that was filtered with the elementary particles. They were the crowning of eternal energy that makes the total summary of the elliptical trajectory of the orbit of the electron, as a virtual particle in which they refer to the muon (µ), it will be this massive elementary particle, with spin ½ with negative electric charge, with its mass 207 times greater than that of the electron, with a somewhat longer life than other unstable particles. It is associated with its corresponding antiparticle, the antimuon (µ +), the perfect interaction of the particles and Higgs and Muon, they will marry in the cloud chamber of the Patmos tunnel, becoming active at elevation 197 of the Wonthelimar vertical, at detecting the presence of electromagnetic field that will bend with the early arrival of the fourth Zefian Arrow. Everything was curved as it passed through this field, mediating between the proton and the electron, called the mesotron. Everything evolved with the mass of active light that was teleported by the neutrinos that imploded from Zefian's arrow, a few light-years before reaching contact with the Megaron Áullos Cosmos and the rest of the Katapausis, to allow for the spatiality of the vast numbers of the transversality of the millennial process, and of cosmicity between the elemental and theological physical actors, revealing the blunt veracity of the concatenation of passion archeology, for purposes of the Cosmos Ultramundis valuing the retransformation of consciousness, and shallow souls for a theological quantum becoming.

A rush of a million causalities
Beyond anyones comprehension
A stirring emotion
Pulsing through and through
These aching limbs

Violent swaying
Thrashing towards the skin
A broken body
Lies deep within
Gashed but still moving
Their heart is slowly beating
A sad, hopeless beating

A struggle to hold onto
The light that is up ahead
A weak limb mightily
Wastes the last bit of energy
It once had

Crumbled now
The body is leaded
Stiff and ******
Simply trashed
Towards the ground.

Your Instagram tinted daydream solo self-help projects
are naught compared to the many faces of my Ketamine addled
multi-faceted bed-ridden wasted ****** aesthetic
Bring me my poppers while I can smell them
or get off my ******* rocket ship
These are the bed sores of regret
tinged in tingly jingle-jangle garage rock twattish twee twaddle
Smoke my tea drink my plants, Kratom of the smack recovery
cat come cat-call **** all to be done
the ladders lead to the plateau that the Meat Puppets sang about
Some say I've been away, some that I've been dead
dada said daddy in the monotone voice, slippin' mickeys and mandys in the drinks of the boys and girls for spoils of war
and causalities of the political system
I hope the vote for your preferred pederast is enough to stop *******
or in fact let us turn to your queen so the monarchs can reward the patriarchs that beat the matriarchs and maybe we can sleep a little better tonight
Truth is these four walls are enough of a prison within the prison that I feel free in slavery
Words too imprison the soul, so I stopped using them
implicit in silence
explicit in message
call on your horses
kneel before the great *** of democracy
these are truly the end of days
and her natural milk shall flow through our veins
until the new dawn awakens from solemn slumber
and your faux-intellectual ******* returns to witch doctor ritual seance ******* matador squeaky clean record having gutter-troll reprobate sunshine easy listening solipsist elite country club golf retreat in the hills where you **** the carcass of the empire with your dysfunctioning penises and praise your zionist overlords that mock your ****** hospitality through gritted teeth as they push you over the edge onto the wailing crowds of peasants below where your alien bones crumble to dust and your stagnant coagulated blood oozes into the Earth where it burns like gallons of acidic chemicals and the world rejoices at the sight of fallen greed and toppled regime until the next time it happens again

Watch three seasons ninety times
addicted to vicarious emotion
Hooked
in the cheek
by the glowing screens
messages
Blurred vision
unfounded
and
logical
causalities
Digging precognitive predicted graves
bitten on the stomach
The little hatchback just crushed his legs
Snubnose finishes the job
Shave your head and you change
like Walt and Shane
Become
Addicted
to words and images
like me.

Its funny when people brag about how much money they make..
When the truth is the dollars worth is Jus as fragile as cake..
And when your flesh kisses death whats the amount you can take...
with you ..
The petals flourishes then they whither away..
Not a cent..
So tell me if this  make sense..
Pharaoh's died and put gold in their tombs and it been there every since..
So What does wealth  mean..the lust for more equals greed..
Whats your 30 pieces of silver will you betray the king..
Money over everything..
Are you aware what that really means..
Its like saying money by any means..
World full of Judas
surrounded by the truth but  tainted by unbelief...
Cash in hand but unaware of a misfortune..
Money is not everything a victim of the distortion ...
Of success.. called the American dream..
The pursuit happiness...
Plus the confusion of what it means to be bless..
Remember Job still called on God when it appeared he had nothing left..
Pain from boils on the flesh.. temporal
Prayed to the eternal God not treasures in a chest..
You look in see Greed's pollution..
When people need solutions..
1.4 trillion spend on a war like we need more shooting..
Screaming we fighting for freedom thats an illusion..
A False freedom your a slave to that freedom..
We are to fight for the Kingdom....
Yes the Kingdom of God...
You know thou will be done..
Thou kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven..
Instead of being a part of this  spiritual recession..
Unfiltered truth here no discretion....
I am Gods art how could I not be his living expression..
If all u talk is money than ur a mouthpiece for Satan check your reflection...
The love of money is like an infection...
So this is a lyrical tax invasion..
Putting a stop to this money glorification..
I hope u kno that private banks  controls the countries inflation..
They could stop homelessness..
They print money based on their personal legislation..
Big business..
I thought this country was founded by Christians...
Founding fathers were illusionist the Constitution wasn't inspired by scripture..
How u own the whole block of cheese n cant share a piece with a nibbler..
Praising a figure..pledging to a flag
Thats not in scripture..then where is it at?
Now God is a banner Jehovah Nissi
Yes im pointing fingers...
one hand round the Bible..
Pray that I wont ever need triggers
Modern day golden calf..
Like Moses speaking to save u from Gods wrath..
You have 2 ask Jesus into ur heart then follow his path..
Cash screws everything around me.
Seems that the money comes with causalities
Seen Lump sums  destroys families..
Capitalism to me is a calamity
American nightmare displayed as a nice dream..
I am very aware the coming of Christ is not a pipe dream..
Awake while you sleep life is not what it seems...
Some only believe what they see
Opening your mouth to eat poison.
Well here's a scoop of the truth..
Mr. senator gets paid  more than  troops..
Yet other men is his protection.
Right now my cousin in Afghanistan armed with a weapon..
Other there is a warzone...
But Mr. Senator your home.
In God we trust but won't step outside your home alone..
I depend on Christ..
Depend on man where's Kevin! Left Alone twice..
I am on fire so they take my matches..
More fear more security they increase my taxes
Should I trust banks money stuffed in the mattress.
Only God matters and your faith in him will matter more when the economy collapses
Let's define the word worth...
Well to everyone its different to some its a designer purse.
To others its its a NFL logo on turf..
To me if your worth is not in God then it is curse..
Let's drop the "th" and add ship to the end..
Where your worth lies is in  what your worshiping. .
Of course people are not content..
When they worship their ends and men..
You got real problems
Yet stocking your closet with red buttons
Them investment accounts won't solve em
Money is precious like the ring was to Gollum

The Wings of a black bird curves,
As he’s deterred by the winds resistance
Contemplating its exist, but his will to go on is persistent
You see, he doesn't know what’s to gain
Or if he’ll find truth in those old sayings
Disputing myths and pointing out counterfeits
Depicting things in the distance, like he has a sixth sense
Reading the fine print on prescriptions,
Vulture’s find their addictions from the God’s
Because they have plenty of victims.
More than ****** or *******, Crack is wack, Mary Jane causes no pain
Medicines that aren't natural **** humans like its casual
Causalities building faster than the words of Socrates
The FAD of the F.D.A. approving poison as food like aspartame.
Preachers teaching blasphemy, Reading scriptures inaccurately,
Tickling the ears of those that pay a dollar to hear
That Jesus is coming there’s nothing to fear
So they believe they’ll be long gone before destruction is near
Death is at the door, but evolution is around the corner
The revolution will have to hold them
No true solution to control them
You see we are the caged beings
They lock our brains in
Books of lies, and entertaining T.V.

The breakfast chaos theory comes quickly and with no aforementioned warning. A hell in your stomach like an ulcer with hands now kneading your internal organs into bread or maybe as a precursor for the causalities of a lonely afternoon or boisterous night, no one ever knows. Suddenly the birds make eye contact with you and you are not the center of your gravity, your universe; your mouth is a beat off to your voice as if buffering, but why would it slow down? No physics to that but it's intangible.
Just a school of thought, food for thought. Sipping your stale coffee from the same mug you use every day because sometimes he say " I lose you in between conversations, as if you're not there. Where do you go? what are you thinking? why do you never visit? why is everything a plea? why is it always getting further with you instead of closer. closer. closer." and i can't answer that because I learned from the best and besides I wasn't listening. But I was, I am.
The breakfast chaos theory comes too soon; always hovering, asking of you to stop being that deserted home department store. Aisles of the same fun-house colors: green and yellow or red and white. It's a worldly thing, I think. An anomaly you weren't supposed to expect but now you have and everything has gone moldy.

Angels fall from heaven
With ****** in their eyes
Swords drawn for blood
They won't be denied
They've come for vengeance
They've come out of pride
To take back what's theirs
What they've been denied

The demons rise up
Like the dead from their graves
The dying masses cry out
They cry out to be saved
Angry and smelling of hell
They come to protect
****** swords drawn
They demand your respect

It's a clash of the ages
As demons and angles war
The earth is the battleground
Here to settle a score
A brotherhood divided
Since the beginning of time
A difference of opinion
Over the divine

Those that were cast out
Those that were raised up
The fine line of obedience
Knowing when you've had enough
The war will go on forever
The end will never come
We are the pawns caught in the middle
And will be until kingdom come

We are the causalities
In a war over beliefs
We are the plunder
That the victors get to reap    
So close your eyes
Try to get some sleep
I doesn't matter what we believe
Our souls aren't ours to keep

Trying to get through a break-up
Is as difficult as walking a battlefield
Without dying or losing a limb
There will be heroes
There will be causalities
Many make it across
Many begin new lives
Many help win the war
And everyone is grateful
To reach the end line
Till you step on a landmine

At least you are already checked
by your ignorance and damaged personality
Never to be no more than a simpleton in revolt
riling against imagined elitist frothing your inadequacies
at every twist and turn of your cattle herded lives in nanny state

So you're tall - wow, bravo for free state milk
So you're not black - wow, bravo for happenstance
So you have friends - wow, bravo for belonging in a gang
( too weak to be strong and positive and say I ain't gonna be a bully )
So you have lover - here today gone tomorrow, you just use eachother

See what you are, nothing but sheep
fed, herded and bedded and held in groupthink
your minds erased and fed poison turned into haters
if you matter, they won't use you as mere pawns to man the lines
they will train you to walk with kings and reach high to make high

her marble features beckoned to be broken
seized by palms, sculpted to crack
jaded lips stained by cerise and bloodied causalities
parting in a feint fruition of compulsion
obsidian gaze, lidded regard of carnal inferno
tearing his pulse apart with egotistical teeth
bestowing the incorruptible mark of possession
upon his blindly bared throat

Tides shift and ideals change, as the world goes through transition. Tensions rise between the old and new paradigm as philosophies change between the old and the new. Turmoil ensues as the causalities rise and both sides let blood flow. New rulers rise that are mired down in the old ideologies while new ways are created by those who wish to mover forward, but are held back by the shackles of fear that keeps others from embracing change. So a storm rises and chaos erupts as old generations pass and new ones come into being. The lightning flashes and the thunder claps as the world goes through the pains of the climate of change.

Sabers cross and steel rattles into the heat of battle we go. Back and forth we ****** and withdraw. Dodging sideways and ducking thusly as cannon fire erupts around us. From side to side we see our ally and foe. Causing havoc and destruction we gouge each other with poison and place all that is dear in peril. Slashing at each other, we draw indefensible lines, back and forth we go. While the war is an illusion, the causalities are real as we duel with tongue and pen. Our war of words inflicts damage and creates division. How can such a war end, when our hearts and inkwells supply our ammunition and what we can contrive is unlimited, from the heart of the human soul.

I loath the 9 am small talk
“Good morning, how are you?”
“ oh, fine—you”
As if much has changed from the last 24 hour hours
Polite causalities are anything, but—polite
In fact, they are rather artificial just like those bags of chips on the table
Nonetheless, I indulged and patiently walk away
Quickly before the irritation is to strike me again, I patiently wait for the *** to stop brewing
Coast is clear no coworker in sight—I think to myself
I calmly pour the coffee into my mug and just as I’m ready to walk out
The pedestal of politeness makes his grand entrance
Small talk is now forced into a long and careless conversation—my eyes are rolling into the back of my head
Pretending to a sight of patience I, yet again indulge
Luckily before a lengthy conversation could go it’s way, someone walks in—finally, an escape
I quickly walk away as if I have pressing tasks that need attending i dont —we are all really pretending here
Regardless, it’s 9:10 and I’m finally made it to my desk.

The darkened corners of forgotten yesterdays clouded the view as the gaping maw of need stared across the chasm at necessity .  Almost as if there was a reason for its contiguous constituency it reflected the myriad animations of its creator .  Crystalline forms in infinite diversity beyond the subjective sublimations of mass crowded the integral forms of its subjugated spontaneities perversions as the well of its unity sang of the cause for its being .

The single-mindedness of its recumbent beginnings were all but lost to the ramifications of itself as the children of its repulsion waxed and waned .  

The twinkling of an eye , the integration of ages , countless extrapolations of its ******* vanished into the nature of their being as the tainted refuse of their wanton progressions began their mutual processions back to the source , or wandered through the surrealistic ethereum of their eternally predestined nothingness .

Causalities purity reigned as all became the reason for its own creation , and vanished into the implosion of its own *******

There is a battle raging that often goes unseen. It is between the forces of heaven and hell, with lost souls as the causalities. The battle is not for everyone, but when God does give a call. He calls for a solider to fight and to give their all. The battle is not won by the swift or the strong. That is not what Gods wants in a solider at all. He seeks out someone who will be humble but have strength. He wants those who have conviction and will not easily become faint. He demands the up most loyalty and sometimes you may think you are fighting alone. In this you must be patient, because the greater plan cannot always be seen. God ask just do your part and leave the rest to him. Once you have fought your fight, you will see how the battle was won. Not by acts of savagery, with a sword or a gun. The fight was taken to the enemy by showing compassion and love, for the battle is the lords to fight from his heavenly throne above. With legions of angel armies at his beckon call, sometimes God simply needs a Christian solider, to come and answer the call.