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phocks May 2013
A crimson tide
What blood spillt?
From what evil?
Or what good?

Blue morning comes
But once a year
Amongst the purple
We all sing out
Out to the stars
The ships coming in
To dock and to sink
Their drills in the ground
They come so far
For the essence of our souls
And they take it back
To their far off shores

Which side are you on?
Does it matter in the end?
To which planet do you belong?
I wonder

Look to the sky
The tirade coming down
They have come from the mind
Of so many far away
So give them your hand
Though they may take it not
For up will be down
And back again tomorrow
Forever we are turning
And long into the night
We will survive

A line
A table
A chair
A fallout shelter
All of these things
Are alive
"..you hear me, I can feel it.
Write what I'm about to tell you,
for you're the first one
in a very great while to listen
and not just simply hear.

I know your pain.
I hear them too:
crying, screaming, pleas for help.
The people around me point and laugh,
but I know you hear them,
I know you can hear me:
I can see it on your face.

Please, I-
we
beg you;
don't ignore us:
you may be our final hope
for revenge, and more importantly,
acknowledgment.

Edwin, please hurry.
We need your help.
There were once more of us,
but we're hunted, herded and murdered
as abominations, as witches, as demons
by they who severed their own minds from the Source
whether willingly or not.

Time is ever shorter for us.
Our breath is ever weaker.
It's a miracle you're writing this down."

"How am I to help?
You're just a hallucination of a voice-
an artifact of my fracturing sanity;
T'is I who needs the help, t'would seem.
If you are indeed real,
where are you that I may be of help?"

"I do not know where I am,
or where the others are,
but I know it is nowhere we belong
and I know it is now we must act.

The Gift
seems, from the outside,
to be dismissable as mere 'mental illness,'
and it may well be
to one who has not studied it
and lived it
and mastered it
as was once common
as was once our privilege.

The Severed
would seek to eradicate all traces of it
without regard for damage done and blood spillt.
The Severed
have no concern for anything beyond
what they perceive within their inner horizon.

However,
you are of the Severed world, yet remain Nonseverent.
That is no small feat.
That is why you hear us.
That is why we need your help.
You and I are an echo of a dying breed,
a reflection of the Source, herself,
in a realm which intentionally fell from unity
into schismatic disarray."

"How should I seek to help
if I have so much to learn
and so little time to study?
Where would I begin?"

"Go to sleep. It will be in a dream
I shall present myself to your mind,
for a conscious state lends itself
to fear and violent schism at any cost
when it comes to things such as these.

There and then you begin thy training,
you begin a new journey upon thy Path.
You don't yet know how important this will be."
Literally a conversation with a frantic female voice in my head.
Call it 'Inspiration' or the ancient Greek concept of the 'Genius.'
Prior to this revelation, I thought it was just ******-positive,
but now I feel it's more deliberate and fated than that implies.
One small decision
Has left us in terror
With flames in the sky and bullets going into our hearts
This city is falling apart
The reporters are speaking in shock
As they hear sounds of the booming glocks
The angry and selfish have caused chaos in the stores
Tears and sadness is apparent in their faces
Completely still
Stuck
Whispering HELP ME
HELP US
The police are standing in valiant honor
Trying to hold the pain
The horror
That has surcumbed to this beautiful city
They shout the taunts and words to guilt
While fake blood is being spillt
Bringing the racial issues into play
Much to unity's dismay
We will never surrender to violence unless provoked
Peaceful protestors are the lone light
In this raging battle
To save justice
They want body cameras in the future
But I think they should have them now
We must learn our lesson
This is another Rodney King disaster
The United States is never used to this
So we are scared
I pray for the innocents
They never asked for this
The peaceful protesters earn my respect
They emulate the right way to fight
They are willing to stay up all night
To stand for something
Not looting and breaking into buildings
Those are the examples of the demons within us
The peaceful ones are concerned about police militarization
But they need to survive too
Against the ones who misuse the Guy Fawkes Masks
They stand in fear
Shivering in the cold
As the Seasons Greetings sign hangs in the mist by the tear gas
When will this pass?
Help us find peace
And leave none deceased
STAND.
NO
MORE
GREED.
ONLY
SELF
DEFENSE.
PEACE.
In the wake of Ferguson's treacherous riots.
Destiny Apr 2015
Dreaming of you seems so incredibly foreign.
The blood spillt on the floor and burned the walls to the ground.
Lifeless beings we've now become.
Searching for an increased understanding.

You buried my wrists with your cuts.
You, the scavenger, taking all my blood, my life!
My walls were glass and I thought I was safe.
But, Alas, you threw your knives at them and broke them!

Confounding my anger, I became angry for so long.
Oh, how you must be so sick, because you are so cold.
I'll heal, but did you learn anything?
But you don't - you feel no guilt at all.

— The End —