A future being the possibilities
The ecology being the reality
It’s a small world
But coming together in keeping the world around
The next stop, “Robotics”
Well robotics have been around for a while
In fact, some companies have incorporated as their style
I was exposed to this myself like nobody else
Tomorrowland took you on a journey from yesterday
It’s being ahead of time and what you could expect combined
Electronics being more advanced
Perhaps feeling like you were in a trance
A wish come true
But it is understanding that is truly due
Think not what’s in the present, but look beyond in being prepared
A change could come and you would be loss
Not a dream from a turn being a toss
An eye catching pitch being the force
Global warming in society in making you think
Even though the movie didn’t touch on
It’s about Earth in knowing where you belong and everlasting be long
Tomorrow is steadily moving into the Earth’s future
All the citizens on earth we all have a job to do in seeing tomorrow as our destiny
Tomorrow maybe seen as a distance
But change can come in an instance
World of tomorrow with action beginning yesterday
Hold on tight and buckle up, as we have a journey in flight for a look see of what the future could be like
Disney’s vision, but no need for revision
The focus is clear and tomorrow is getting quite near.

We need to believe we can exsist.
We need to believe that we can stop destroying the world.
We need to believe that we aren't the flaw the world created by mistake.
We need to believe that we need to be here.
We need to believe in ourselves and our meaning.
We need to believe in the hope that we could get better.
We need to believe.
Because if we don't, there will be nothing left to believe in.

once upon a time

when all of your parents weren't even born
there was a man named eddie spaghetti
who loved to travel the world
and he didn't have planes of helicopters
or even private jets, no, he only had
this red and white sailing yacht
which he called, swannie
and he loved swannie a lot
he would start sailing around
south america, and the west indies
where he wanted to start this journey
and then into central america where
he had a bit of fun, yeah, he had fun
then right up the coastline of san diego
and los angeles and san francisco
and yes, he was having a few hiccups
but he did it well by going past canada
and alaska sailing very well, enjoying
the ride, after that he sailed down the coastline
of russia, and then down toward japan and then
into china and screamed hello to some of the locals
then over to the phillipines and then down to malaysia
and after that he had a few of indias finest curries
you see, he hadn't crossed the equator yet, but it was coming
closer to him as he was heading over to africa and saudi arabia but he was very scared of the equator as he thinks time
will make him lose his boat, and we all know it won't, it is just a time zone, he will enter tomorrow, and he didn't want to become a tomorrow person, so he stopped in somalia and became one of them till he figured out how he was going to become a tomorrow person, so he parked his yacht in the dock and started to explore, he met a lot of nice people
and he said his name was GOD, which he knows is using the lords name in vane, and this poor kid named chico befriended him, believing he was the real god, but he was only 7, and his parents never believed that GOD, could be heard but not seen
and they said to chico, don't hang with him, he is a stranger to us, and you know we never talk to strangers, but chico who never wanted to upset his folks, decided to see GOD anyway
because he was not from these parts, but then the men from over the hill thought he was an intruder and took him prisoner,
chico said, this is GOD, and they didn't believe him either because GOD is a spiritual being of heaven, not a man and they said, let's chop his head off, but eddie said please believe me, i am not GOD, i am a sailor from south america
i wouldn't have come here if i wasn't scared to cross the equator toward the land of tomorrow and when he said where
he has been already, the king said, lead us to your boat, there
is no problem with entering tomorrow and as they all headed
toward the boat eddie was chucked into the ocean rock cave
after he handed them the key and this little red and white sailboat named swannie had disappeared into the land of tomorrow without eddie and being GOD, he went to chico
and said my name is eddie spaghetti and i lost my boat, i am too scared of entering tomorrow and suddenly his parents who were listening took him in and got very close, and eddie lived there for 3 years and on his fishing trip with chico and his dad, he saw swannie washed up on the shore and he said, tomorrowland is not for me and said goodbye to chico and his family and went back to south america the way he came and perished off the shore of japan, never to be seen again, and swannie, was rebuilt to sit on a beach in Japan and kids played on it, and they still played on it on this very day,
the end

Let's blow each other's minds
What's yours is mine I know threw all the wires in time well let's just count this slow let's rewind what's kind well cause I can't count on tomorrow I leave my house for rights some how I try to rewrite my wrongs threw all glasses of wine well let's just sip this slow...
I'm buzz off you tonight what's yours is mine I know you wanna see me again sometime? Well this is your chance to run.

What’s a light beer to a heavy mind?
A reward for accomplishing nothing.

Nothing but the empty glare on the tv
Accomplishing nothing.
no Work, no Labor, no Action

A wasted day.
Sunny.
But wasted.

It all started with a light beer, yesterday.
A reward for an ambitious day.
mostly Work with some Action
and little Labor.

A relaxing day.
Sunny.
But I was wasted.

Now I’m drinking four cold ones.
It’s all I have left, anyway.

I could swim in your oceanic eyes;
But when you give me that look
You lay dynamite on my iron skin
And you open me like a wound:

Spirit of fire that burns
Like a blade of sunlight
I sacrifice myself as I die
Into you, you ancient name of fire;

And your temper between the jaws
In the abstract geometry you propose
Lays me in an impassive torture
And you load ghosts of yesterday
Into Tomorrowland,
My cry and the cries of the torturer.

Be it the first dawn,
The last dawn,
We are bigger than the night
But the dream of us fits on the bed,
The bed of rain,
The bed of storms,
The liquidity of our bodies
As the moon wakes and asks
For our spirituality,
Souls entwined, we tear the night apart;

But we aren't always in the mood
At the same time,
Vehement bodies on invisible clocks
We can't see ticking,
You speak in Winter,
I speak in Summer;
Our words vanish like
Syllables of vertigo;
We are lost between the argument.

For all the good and the bad
I would make love with you
At the precipice,
Hanging at the cliff;
To fall in love or fall to our death,
Each is a timeless matter
And through it all I
Know that I am alive between
The polar shifts.

Free as a bird,
promises marked thy word.
Limitations are switched off,
bounds that were never heard.

If you would just focus,
lenses fixed on a one-shot mind.
I wish you have the decision,
truth can never be blind.

Evaded realities,
reluctant and hidden feelings.
brings joy to the horizon
of jittery nerve endings.

Options are in front of you,
choosing should be easy.
when you're a mere shadow,
past is not necessary.

Choose me if you will
As you've picked the real.
I don't want no sharing
unless you're not completely healed.

it's like Opposite Day
The day when today It-is-not, but
Now the sun is shining and the clouds depart to show that it's smiling

it's like Tomorrowland
the land of the accomplished
where everything I said I'd do is finished and on time and I have no worries of the clock on my mind

it's like the neighbor’s yard
where the Joneses stay
with their better grass and HD TVs

—but it's Sunday night here in the present where I lay on the yoga mat on the cement floor
and try to think of the day I'm the Joneses and someone looks into my backyard

If from some great well of wisdom
There would flow the truth
I’d drink my fill and wonder why
It’s wasted on the youth
Who have no bills to pay or mouths to feed
Or reasons to suppress their greed
For sharing isn’t caring
If what all you need is what you want
A picture book to read

So serene and tranquil thoughts convene
Tomorrowland is alien
To you in all your blissful cares
At home with no one there again
Alone inside your little worlds
The ones outside seem big and small
But nothing matters anymore
Except for growing tall
Before you fall into adulthood
And give in to *after all

this... this long awaited bottle
of wine; that's for omome,
but not you... if there's going to be
a me and you...
we'd needd a ms. amber...
and some hereafter...
that bouting with the bridge
and bride of hades
and... whatever...
come tomorrowland....
i will not birdge any gaps
or any other interludes...
save those bits that welcome
the last of life and that killing joke...
here, now, the better half of
me... closed circuit worth of a
pundit...

lingo sputnik that one into an equation
for the basis of oasis that
never clamoured to burden the eurotrash
with blur
and pigeon shtiting clarificastions....

manchester chequers...
n'ah n'ah hey jude... ******* worth
of wriggling and teasin'...
  
happy to have made cheese...
says anyone beside...
an alex james...
   gear up to be riddled, moi...
something sharpening in
tone-deaf pain...

no... 4 down-under
3 across a "crew"...
             he's also greaved in
the soloist "moisting up" of suicidal tendencies...
linger me for that spot
leverage: major major of rationed bacon...

you really don't want the kinds
of me crafting a ridicule of
your naked ***... making
tabloid "oops"
of that always appeasing moon
whips and tenures...

two birds with one stone...
except the arithmetic of twenty-two...
and there's a whoop-catch
of the better half of rottten tomorrows
of the intelligent:
hardly an i.q. tester, tester, count...

i come from this affair all..
all ******* dehydrated...
and fixated on a d.n.a. of the wirth
of argumentation for the worths of
tomorrow...

hardly the happy slap...
          we... the governing
lords of salem...
                        that last misendeavour;
culprit, corrupt...
of that what's best salvaged...

mein besitzen!
           az én saját...
                               mano savo!

refresh... the death upon the crucifix
of golgotha...
then again...
that death of being impaled...
to dangle with death in tow...
but then... being impaled...
all that glory-******* the tenets
of homosexuality...
then one is being impaled
via the transcedence of buggery?

it's one thing to dangle on
a crucifix... hands outstreched...
quiet another...
to have ones hands tied
behind one's back...
being impaled...

           na pal z tym skurwysynem!
i will just listen to enough
wading through the glories of
the cossacks mingling with
the crimean tartars before...

                             crucifixion is
hardly the worthy bargain of torture to be...
exemplified...
there are so many, more...
na pal...

   to be impregnated by a quest
of making **** *** normie-proud...
at the crux of where the pelvis ends and the coccyx
begins...
at the point where the birth of the iron maiden
welcomes the weeping willow...
as a response of being
the sulking bride of commerce...

i do pity the emblem of the crucifix...
there's being subject to the pike...
one can be made to suffice in this
instrumentation of torture...
with a leonardo da vinci exegesis...
the limbs extending...
but never quiet so on a pyke...

                          butterflies of all
held hostage high heavens...
as ever... the inglorious stump...
sharpened... a death proclaimed...
two weeks short but then
the interlude... of the agon. of "waiting"...

it's called the highest crucifixion...
the lesser **** forthcoming...
the hands are tied
and the body is made to pivot
on the pelvis come coccyx...

              no angel will come here:
in spite... or repose...

                    i have lost my amibitions
to imagine... thus, this,
this torrent of whimsical expenditures;
bone-breaking
copper nibbling skimming
of loitering examinations of:
the awaited loss of value.

Don't don't don't release the cap
Cap threatened with triviality
Blame the dog next to you
Free of decisions and confidence--the face that is
Sitting on the chair made of medals
Traumatic in the sense of reflecting the mirror on the wrong shadow of the lamppost
Weighing the child's drawings and ancestors
Which one is more equal?
The brittleness of the smell
Keep sniffing to keep on lingering
You really know how life support works
Put it on them after you show your ***** harpoons
And then got cold, left them behind on overdose
That will catch on to dust

How to understand respect between?
Factually, no man is an island
Are we that imperfect?
We never realised perfection is the only value in your equation
Perfection is the only key to these rusted locks
Perfection is it...?
The thing is...you are not the only one who, at the core, is made up of an ant colony's bites
We all are!
Piling and sorting the nostalgia and blasting it on a broken vinyl

With all that, the island might be sweet and savory
A few touches here and there and will be fine
It is an option since you are an ever-growing wetlands
Must be good to emulate your manipulate?

Is your war even civil?
No, because you only remember THAT part of the history wrapped as a legend for you to chug on
Stripping Bible verses will not help you
Constructive criticism and hatred is different
You throw grenades
That is your only personality
Then say, "I never meant something ill."
Trillion times
Stitch it. If you keep screaming it, your throat will not be the only thing that is absent in the jacket.

Will the party on the 88th floor stop for a minute?!
When will all these floors crash down since that might be the only way out of this stable building?
We can handle this handlebar of a person
DO NOT COPY THE CARBON COPIES FROM #16788003 AEDEN BOX.
What are them?
It does not matter whose garden  it is
You will keep picking the flowers
It is not mowing anyone's
You just think it is. You are not even on the grass.

Worry is the distance of the hectares and tomorrowland of your ancestors'
Burden is the fire that burnt it all down
Can it still be resurrected?
Arson is affront, but it will just spread again
Is there some bouquet spray to wander around with?
Time is multiplicity
The fire must be imaginary or dying inside with you.

The hypocrisy is not functional anymore
Vulnerability is not an aesthetic
You nod but why everything falling out is off?
Yeah, it is our fault that your medals are just counted
WE ARE JUST GONNA ACCEPT IT.
Punching the windows will forever be our therapy center
As long as you enter

Looks can be deceiving.
Have you ever thought words can be too?

We pull our strings of feelings
practice notes of thoughts
tongued instrument, voice our tunes
A low whisper moan in love or
A high pitch screech of temper,
words as our lyrics.
We sing out loud to our beloved
Anything to make them fall
Anything to make them hum our memories
We are the musicians; broken.

We wisely select certain metaphors
and draft them meticulously
A love note in secret codes
A promise to set them free
A devised illusion of a trap
to cage our exotic bird
in the name of love.
From,
You. Me.
You and me
Us
You vs me
Me. You.
We've become poets
Feeding rotten love and
Breathing stale memories.
We are the poets; poisoned.

We pull out the plain surface
draw our words in pictures
paint them in hues of bleeding red
Everytime you make love
you leave them stained, imprints
on their skin to celebrate the art.
words in art.
words in pain.
We are the artists; con.

We pick out the nature's remains  
garnish seasoned lies
a delicacy to relish
to savour the moment
suiting our taste buds
Sugarcoat to our sweet tooth
***** bitter truth when repulsed
Sour words there after to keep them away
We are the chefs; drunk.

We advertise false hopes
sell some fancy stories
content of curatively crafted words
to attract customers for tomorrowland
Exquisite price and promotions
and we rely solely on profits
to receive more than given
Everything is a business with
terms and conditions attached
we always fail to check.
And the Disclaimer:
Emotional investments are subjected to
system damage risk.
Read all related documents carefully.
We are the marketers; fraud.

We plead guilty when needy
Swear an oath "Nothing but the truth"
Bail out when cards have been dealt
Claim "The right to remain silent"
Who's right and who's not
It's my words against yours
We are the lawyers; unjust.

Words, the primal instinct of our transmission,
to interact, to bond and
with it we either build or rupture it all.
Words don't just roll out your tongue
they're servants to your thoughts and
slave to your emotions.
But what are words when we don't really mean them?
Word is a lifetime.
Like seasons
budding to blossom to fall.
Lifetime of our connection.
When we cease to exist
so are the words and promises.

Talk isn't cheap, words are.
We are the words
gone with the wind.