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Ylang Ylang Jul 2018
-Who am I?
-A desperate man,
an animal crying in the jungle at night.
A liar and a hyporcite(even now(even now(even now(even now(even n
A brief flash of light in the course of thousands of years(just like millions of stars in the galaxy, going through the cycle of numerous births and deaths). A wannabe, maybe? A formless gooey of matter, not different from anything else.
A hypocrite, again. And in this particular moment, even more a vomitter and a cold sweating frog.
All and none, time and rhyme,
soon not to rhyme.
And again,
I say,
I am one of the billion stars.
HHT May 2015
Welcome to the land of dead,
where we use light too see darkness,
a place where all the stairs lead down,
where the dreams of the ones living are just tossed around,
welcome to the land of the shaken,
in the words of the oppressors.
where the power is of the hater,
where the inferior cater,
the needs to a so called saviour

welcome to my land, let me introduce myself,
they call me death,
I dont know why,
its a matter of opinion, lets not cry
over this.
after all this is all an illusion,
the profanity of consciencness
a part of everyones delusion,
its a world of the weak and the dead,
its a world of the children who are fed, the
A's and B's of the previous generations faults,
where solution is to be found, in the hands of tomorrow,
which, funny as it may seem, will come around later,
Ohh did I tell you, I am a hater,
a hyporcite crafted by time, a dream slayer,
a part of the cycle and maybe a creator,
they say there is no start of end to a circle
there is a puncture in this system
a few still have the sparkle in their eyes
the ones to dare to dream and dream to conquer,
whos life is not confined by the narrow domesticated
herds of the all mighty,
all mighty is within them and their faith not shaken,
the broken system, isnt their end.
I hope
but the society i live in,
doesnt change them to me,
lets hope to slayers of dragons,
are not slayed by the rats.
lets hope, they are not chased by the chosen ones,
who happen to be chased by the previous faults and their disgrace.
Its a system to dawn a new birth of time,
where the conventional knowledge,
is not worth even a dime, where the hopes,
of the successor are held be the creepers of
the mimes.
the mimes that led to this,
the ones who changed the way things work,
the mimes the silently conquered the world,
they threw dust, into my eyes and into yours
its the death of time and eveyrone else of course.

— The End —