Here we have a collection of a different types of wordsmithery
Check out The Twisted Poetry-ish collection
Intrepid
In time you came to see me but all was lost, my eyes were hollow my heart was black, for I traded it all .my heart for stone my mind for plastic, and my soul for a concept, I have faded into oblivion distorted by the view of others to distract from one’s own corruption, distant cries echo in the caverns of eternity, why did we lose ourselves in this how did it become our burden to bear, the weakest amongst all creation is the pinnacle of it all. The weight is immense. who are we but wanderers in this vast empty trying to find a shred of something that can free us, let us open up our wings to their fullest and fly na soar, in an unsurpassed freedom that can only be felt in the deepest recesses of our essence our being what we are.
The Balance Askew
As you stand on the edge of the precipice, thoughts of grandeur pass by as do thoughts of a solitude martyr amongst the air of kings, screaming in the silence at such great heights. Wonder escapes into fear, then to revel in defiance against the very same emotion that grips the spirit and bids it to leave. Reflection has welled to the deepest pools of the mind. Dancing on heads of pins is easier than this. This realization of insignificance bleeding through into individual unique flavors of its own, for without it all would be less. However the balance inside weighs heavy for insignificance, yet to know distinct separation of all things is to understand its value, its uniqueness, its flavor. Then why are we standing in solitude on the edge of this precipice believing to be solitary but knowing that it is us that meets the cliff to the sky, causing a symbiotic relationship that knits all things together. We are special, we are significant, However overwhelmed by the vastness, we still believe that we are not.
Lost possibilities
Shredded consciousness distributed amongst the milky way falling thoughts with the weight of severe immensity diving thick into the bowels of power to look upon weakness with no harbor for it to pull in. spread eruption of mystic gords felling their sphere of possibilities gripping tight to a lost expectation that melts into pools of scurvish maladity contrived of missing identities that veer into forests of the contorted black marsh of indignant energy scurrying across fields of wet delusion.
The toll
Sporadic spores of indignation creep across the lush life of eons gone by, Hurled into the next, to the evaporated contrite spirit of once kings, that now crawl like scurvish men, fiending feverishly for morsels of sanity. A gasht are the voices which scale the heights of eternity. Treading mountains of souls trampled by the minds of the masses, flooded by bile and honey. To stand is to fall and to fall is to stand, the circle of correction, the lessens burnt, slashed, beaten, sweet essence is derived from flowers such as these, for they cannot break, it cannot be stolen. Time brings forgetfulness, comfort, and weakness, where is the road of the outcast, for as if they are. no, it is the sheep believed to be goats that have been found wanting. They bear the mirror without reflection. The devourer of time opens wide, time-torn asunder leaking minuscule fragments twisted into bursts of energy fulfilling the toll that is due.
Gods Lost
We were kings in some ages, Gods in others .now we are but dust, renditions of human cliches. vivid imaginations spreading across the vast empty calling for us to come home .but there is no home for the reviled the outcast, we have seen and know the corruption within, the taste on the tongue is as acid eating away the flesh, come see our wisdom, come feel our pain it is bliss .tantalize by the voices inside creating company within solitude.
Content misdirected
Convoluted casualties of twisted torsos scaling walls of incomprehensible height and depth, bleeding enigmatic sorrows created by preconceived notions of a reality that envelopes the mind spewing inadequate marvels of inconsistent victories, that lay dead in the pit of procrastination, seeking approval, wretched meet wretched, lost meet lost, we have found our way, the dance ensues, and the snare is set that we may dance in this cesspool of provocation being led by lack of and satisfied within this labyrinthe to nowhere.
Distorted
Envision corsets of caverns drifting down a spiral of convoluted drivel dripping disdain on a perfect red rose. Wipe away the moth stricken cloth of morbid curiosity, latching onto crumbled fragments of distended limbs falling into bile from a contorted intrinsic stall of distorted thinking.
Wild Ramblings
Encased in ash breathing in fetters of vines, scroll through time, scattering the water of ancient days. Corrupt by insecurities that run wild through his character enslaving him in the movement he has no belief in, entranced by sunbursts traveling through twisted dimensions bringing him rest and joy. guttural voices with intrepid strength spanning across the expanse wavering not to emotions of fleeting weakness, drowning despair in a sea of unprecedented joy. Metal swallowed by fire refining the corrupt out, creating metal pure unbreakable. Tension resides in the trivial way of the sullen, destroyed by the mind that keeps them tormented, tails of time ridiculed to fragments of dust torn in two by the winds that distribute narled principles.
The Cost
Skins of dead snakes exude perfume from their scales onto the dead grass bringing forth one single flower, a flower of hope and glory distant memories swallowed by time have you forgotten who you are. who you are to be, glory beneath the sullen sporadic marshes of your soul grow into mountains of possibilities scouring the essence of life devouring time. Simply set in a fixed empathetic region of wealth disturbed by inconsistent drops of contorted abnormalities bleeding into the cost
Amid
Beaten emotions molded into now forming casual thoughts of carnal ideas dreaming conclusions that fill inadequate courage contained in a temporal vessel blown by the intense heat that shapes the character.
Empty
Incandescent streams of illiterate patterns of immemorial bliss, casting incoherent shadows of naked souls strun about like pine cones in fall. Cast the stone hear its sound infused with Dead wasps, dripping the salt from another, are these but intricate weavings of fallen particles that lost their way or abandoned their post. Where is the moment, now lost, never to be once, as if to see that which has never been. Have the possibilities faded or is our sight constrained, should we look, or is this the place of gods, Unseen slivers of experiences spread carelessly across infinity in one. More than one is incomprehensible to those that decay.
Black
Betwixt be the tailor of souls decimated by brutal connections that drain into oblivion scattered pieces of wreckage encompassed by distance fears that no longer are present. Colors fade into black and white yes and no, depart from these and fall victim to the renaissance of corruption words lost in cryptic tales thought to have meaning fall to the ground broken like glass, and blown away like dust. Concede not the details of time lost. For have you not grown or are you still as the hermit crab stuck within your first shell to afraid to step out naked and cold, too afraid to find your new larger shell for fear of being exposed, not knowing that this exposure is necessary for the next stage of growth. Palpitations of the soul screech in darkness seeking out ridges of the cliff to cling too. The well is not dry ,draw from your own well, quit stealing from others for if the waters are never stirred or drawn they run stagnant all is thick with poison perspective askew blaming the wall, for your fear sitting in the sun only seeing black, this is your cause, not the wall or even the night.
yet still cast
Deliberate deities dancing in sunlight being bathed by their own essence, smiling soulfully through time, gripped by sacrifice, torn by the complacent, there is no need, the water still falls and the sun burns up the day, the nights light mesmerizes the sea, the orchestra is at play. Dream a dream of kings, bury the treasure of old, the inornate complexities of the stained ones bind exacting insecurities that drip down the chains, drowning truths and melting absolutes into unrecognizable fragments, yet still cast and shattered.
The shape of
The Carnival of carnal caverns fall into triptych avalanches of searing bliss, stretched, contorted, shaped by hunger unquenchable, tripping essence of satisfaction, bleeding greed, hungerly devouring all, the aroma of queens, Elixir of kings, entangled in walls of ecstasy, 2 are one there is no beginning nor end the entwinement conjugates the form of eternity.
Good Pleasure
Cryptic tales of serpentine puzzles of eternal forage, creating distance frames of incoherent visions, stretched across eons of darkness, only to arise and give birth to thee exquisite, to thee repulsed, sideways disrupts light waving, cascading myriads of minut particles dislodging the rules of engagement, Distorting the captive corporeals into finite vessels of decay, transforming, morphing as sand spews from the hour glass stealing time for its own good pleasure.
Dust and blood
Magical marauders marching through perpetual fields of fantasy, folding philosophies into abstract concepts of virtue, enveloped by the ever consuming trickle that forges its way through sanity, delving into springs of everlasting never, bewildered by fuddled fornication diluted by countless illusions of grandeur, the voice of nature engaged by primal infatuation leaking into pools of the nonexistent creeping slowly across the plains of dust and blood.
Sand and strife
Drastic eradication of inconsistent spastic surges of deluded vessels pouring blasphemies over a gift made, gratefulness disregarded tossed to the ground muddied and forgotten, Build the wall let no one scale it, fortify the mote with sin and sacrifice, drench the ground with the slur of the thickness, suffocating those that dare come near, the veil has been set the door is close let those who approach beware, for we have stepped beyond the veil disrupted streams on your behalf, immolated the light so that you may walk without out blindness, yet disrespect is your septure and sarcasm your crown. Wallowing in your kingdoms of the marshland, for stagnant rot fills your bones, and an unquenchable fire in your mind, drives you to claw and tear down your own castles built of sand and strife.
Willingly
Strength miss spoken as wisdom left cold, so love controlled, manipulated by the nonresistant soul, bitter to the core, the leaves they fall, none have been eaten, the cocoon unformed, occasions of simplicity, scarce objects of power sent through channels of unimaginable sight, bending the understanding away from our limited perspective revealing thee actual, telling tales of a reality foreign to our understanding, stripe bias conclusions from the record, let them write themselves, fear not the sight before you, embrace it, as delusions melt so does your staggered soul revive in its journey for the actual not the fantasy, which leeches all who tread her yet as the darkness envelopes them the smile perpetually marks their face.
Failure to Finale
Congealed cohorts of concealed carnivorous cravings, delving to the skim, reaching inside the outer shell needlessly clawing carelessly at imaginaries, the nightmares that plague sought after bowls which sing in silent waves electrifying a crucible cannon of concrete crumbling before the spirited rain. Taunting the storm, riding it as a wild bull, eyes ablaze, colliding purpose with pain directing motive into directive, forcing failure to finale.
Where all is reality and reality is all.
Elicited margins of disturbed machinations ozze insatiably across the landscape of the mind gleaning traces of ornate passages stolen by groves of ghosts which are exhaled through the eyes, distance appears blind as crooked closets bind and don’t close. It can be heard if still, the whimpering of shadows of days gone by, burned by time, consumed by years, needfully forgotten and buried, smash the urn there is no need for reverence, the wick is long consumed and the devastation long past. The sprout stretches and unfolds with fresh never known growth exceeding the margins previously believed, even though tender this will become the weathered the unbreakable thee unmovable, thee unstoppable. Where all is reality and reality is all.
Please thy eyes.
Transcendent heights of once fallen nodes of lost tablets echo relentlessly across the chasms of molten mocheries, taunting and jeering latent prisms that scatter voices into form, the silhouette endures the dance bleeding emotion not yet realized in a freedom beyond the experience of the ones who judge without seat, how would it be, those who are with flaw may seat themself in a lofty throne above those of their own kind, leaking and spewing forth weakness insecurity, dripping with pride upheaving the pillars that support the facade. Your finger has found you out, demand as so demanded, knees are bent unequal equation summed up in saturated illustrations of garbled misshapen monoliths embodied by indescribable projection, cast upon congealed spirits of the gorged, slothful and sloopy slumbering, exacting, thee exact time and space possessed by another entwined by force, sleep, dream, please thy eyes, sleep, dream, please thy eyes.
Far reaching
Far-reaching curiosities tending toward flaw, initiate consequences of dismembered context, driven in contempt, begging direction. As if no sound has been, nor has the heart poured its passion that it may be ignored cast to the pile allowed to rot. It has been held stifled to smolder deep within, can it be seen, is it tangible enough that others may see, or is this mine alone to see. For who can know the flavors but the chef, however, his masterpiece may be enjoyed universally, the careful weavings of the mind dictate a peculiar taste, not one sought by many nor is there a connoisseur that is not rare, they can smell the emotion and wring the words and taste every drop, molding and shaping the perspective toward a new understanding or is it new, eons buried deep in the recesses of the psyche striving to reach the surface, clawing through a muddled network of neurons programed in ways unbeknownst, yet bending to the mighty will, the desire, to know, as the phoenix that was once ashes, smoulder complete, is apt for rebirth the expression of the whole that cannot be denied its presence nor its expression.
Asymmetry
Myriads of simplicities gather in the grand illusion spectating the so thought spectator, possibilities collide with obscure thought to form possibilities from impossibilities converging distant voices that echo through time of the path that lay ahead. Wandering intrinsically along lengths thwarted with strategic symphonies of collective opposition, binding subordinate strings of disarray, leading to elements amalgamated with torn tales of entities swallowed by overwhelming geometry, wrapped into asymmetrical conclusion.
Undertaking
Fear the bleeding botanicals that shed daylight, dividing the LIfe from the not, seeping into willowed wisps of a forgotten darkness, swept by brutal disruptance bending elusive sparks of immortality, converging control with acceptance, relinquishing patterns that destroy, forming inner essences of kings as we lead by serving, forging stone to steel as cynical apparitions rejoice delightfully, hidden to the sight of the seeing whispering vibrations not felt by the senses, yet the soul moves compelled to advance in a synergetic embrace.
Aqua pura
Gnarled precepts contorting neuron’s into synopsis of spiritual situations, fending off reality with a soride style of candour which numbs transmissions ill interpreted, defining the moment apart, dissolving preconceived ideals molding confusion into focus. Sending signals of inept motivation divulging into discipline, grasping the straws that can’t be broken.feeding the fields of thought with ever spanning fountains of inexhaustible aqua pura.
Unrelenting woe
Corruptible catacombs diluted by torrents of memories in a garden that’s odor smote death, made him sleep, the day no soul left was a day untold by any. The deep cannot know, the wide has never seen, and the froward may fall. So shall the unseen be seen, as dread creeps across the hearts of the faint. Taunt not thy face in the mirror, nor mock thy soul, fortitude of felled spirits contrived of forsaken freedom smothered in an existential swaddle of amorphous contingencies born of unrelenting woe.
Futility
Factors unfathomed steering relentlessly drawn to rigorous reclusion, sighting immensely stern symbols deeply inlaid in wood made of stone, time drawn up into a snare, caught, entangled everlasting, creating contours of substances removed, imitating rebounded reactions of collapsing corporeal convolutions contending for frivolous fascinations fielding forever into futility.
Contained
Echos of eternity pass by in ever-changing landscapes converging in a tapestry of delight, that once held cannot be grasped again, the train has left and the singularity in stride begins, not as one that can see all at one time, can grasp all, but a passenger in direction cohorst, able to taste touch and smell all that is within the mighty train, and all that is without is forbidden, no tangible forms, distorted ghostly figures bellowing tales of time, whisked away on a trajectory headed for the unknown we remain blind and deaf, oblivious to the whole, believing we are so.
Blood and bone as your mortar
Careless interpretations of sculpted character manipulated maliciously through the eye of a needle. Bending and shaping perspectives allowing the vision to hold, collecting the strings that drag monstrous mountains of adversity to the abyss, not withholding conscience efforts of illumination eclipsing the containment of preconceived notions, to hear all is scattered and pain-stricken. Hear the one with no echo or range, the flood engulfs the slipstreams of euphoric torture, joyously embraced, held with passion true. When the sticks they come and the stones they fall pick them up and built a house and use blood and bone as your mortar.
Apart
Misconstrued segments of perceived intentions hovering like lily pads over a morbidly dank puddle, drawing in paths of once mighty megalithic caverns of silky temptation into an everlasting swirl of contrived possibilities, stumbling in retrospect, amidst the twisted tales of the long lost wise men of old. The understanding is marred, crowded and kept blind by emotional weaknesses not held together by substance, but stapled with rusty shards of flaccid philosophies.
Momentum
Delicate deliverance diving into masses of intrinsically woven emotions tearing away the foundations of sunken solidarity building obelisks from broken shards of souls captured in webs of warped reservoirs strung together by uncrafted cacophony, resounding throughout the core emanating difference, divulging secrets that spread down the ages as once thought nothing, distracted by elaborate losses hidden behind cultivated corners of unintelligible surroundings dragging forward the fallen spikenard to the masher, creating a collision of kinetic forces smoldering frictionless momentum.
Unknowingly
Cataloged catastrophes engorged by embellished precepts drowning in legions of miss directed skirmishes, turning tides to walls of future forests spun into deliberate coercions of lost legacies destroyed by propelling dilapidations toward endless multitudes of resistance, forming neglected images of motion, stumbling toward eminence unknowingly setting the stage of completion, forged beyond the imagination.
Elicited
Morbid possibilities imbued into eternity losing scope to the endeavors of tribal evolution cascading into deep recesses of conscience gain corrupting tethered absolution matching reliant vestigials of glorious fever caught in delirious dimensions of scolded spirits scavenging unfounded corridors to the end of malignant monsters encompassing bold boundaries elicited by majestic marvels descending into the fairs of fascination.
The Collective
Impervious perfection proliferating essences of dead drifting dogma, creating aromas of cardinal cages vetting indistinct smells of savory-sweet solstice derived of golden gardens velled in caverns of advanced correlations to starlit imaginations converging synapses in chaos, melding concepts of expanse to recoil in dark corners of lit stages, controlled by vast illuminations of distant voices, accumulating the collective.
Clueless
Sanity scorn in deserts of refuse calculating agendas given to disrupt future fruit, born of light, bound by darkness forever chased by unlucid repetition held under by casual lewdness which bring heat unquenchable tearing the soul to the depths below the battle incomplete picking the sliver that cannot be reached ever clawing forward marching up mountains of mire clothed in desire knowing not the page has been written, the scars have been made and the shackles set, who amongst us will stand, dripping the disdain of others bleeding incomprehensible emotions fettered in confusion torn asunder by clueless endeavours.
Bending Not
Demented correlations dependent on laxed deviations, spent on misguided intentions, forging the sword of not, interrupting the vision given unseen by the next, to divulge corrupt transitions doused in emotionless canals flowing toward incorrupt caveats correcting the true, needless solitude scorching everlasting landscapes of empty promises, seeking refuge in trees of eternal, written in ink of old, bending not to subtle disappointment shining in the eyes of once loved skin.
Even though
Insipid character controlling the animal gripping it’s freedom and binding its lustre
Trap the beast keep him sedated, fasten him in insecurities that he may feel less than, for who cannot see princes being cast aside while the crumbling rule the day, their horses give ride to the weak, whereas the mighty toil restlessly in fields of dismay, as if the fortitude of these can be broken even though the hands are empty the perpetual radiance will never leave them, for they are not born of the weakness they were born in battle and have arisen and cannot be put asunder, even though they walk alone with empty hands.
Unpalatable awareness
Unnatural nuances seeping into crevices of immolated self, defending diluted conventions simulating evidence of lost reprieve disbanded voices of sacred abandon milking soft emotions of catalytic undoing creating a malignant countenance deriving macrobian souls entombed in overspreading impiety, following the leylines of innate facundity spawning royal capacities to up hold selected agendas brought forth into subsistence, fashioning illusions that soothe unpalatable awareness.
Peaks
Diluted differences drowned out by volume, stifling experiences kept silent. May they stand on stones inept to call wandering souls within, the mighty lay in beyond microscopic, without them all would be not, fortitude cast within toiled subversions molded and bent, condensed unto a drop, heated to incinerate carnal casualties drifting between dimensional shifts, the highest of peaks is cold and lonely, only those that have met this early, will have the capacity to withhold themselves.
The Prize
Mighty are those that fall short, therein lies the lack of delusion, understanding has met her way, nothing is easy, so ride with all your might, the guide is set, no need to paint the picture of once thought self, for as the waves pound everlasting and bore its way to make its own path and it is known, so shall you be seen, those who climb the mountain know this, and also know that it is the journey up, that really is the prize, for all that is needed, is taught along the way, for those that stay the course.
Vi Vision
Goads be not speared by the total ignis of thee eyes, elaborate defenses correlating self-righteous clones of dystopia, blotting elements of single spectors elevating vibrations matched by ancient strings, has the light been here before, is there distended lines that bind them, visions appear through side sight, look not direct, orst it shall fall from thy sight.
Without Regret
Passion buried, there exists the gray, disruption within the flow, stumbling cordless, the tuning fork is dashed, incongruence aghast, change the sound, move the torch, reasonless meanderings between walls of sanity bleed erratic melodies melding monstrosities of misaligned Mandation, creating paradoxes unparalleled, cacology winks its confusion, wafts of rotting tombs fill the air. Dig it out, allow the light to see it once again, breathe life back into it, let it fill you to overflow once again, so that you may spill it everywhere without regret
Anew
Once magical overwhelmed by the erosion of self-induced spectrums of shade melding into color Correcting sight, holding the sound, collecting the draw, incorporating the blue, specific crystals rung influenced by the soft aggression gently sending waves into the ether, hoping for a resistance to match the flow, Long and everlasting not matched or stopped obsessed with the course the task, none may touch, the heat is immense, to intense for the flesh to be near it. This wave rolls past the boundaries into the void bringing it energy, life, and exuberance. How now has existence expanded herself again beyond the walls of reality-defying preconceived notions of itself to form anew.
Vapor
Forged in cambridged chasms of fabricated carniforious hedges enfolded toward images of salt drawn nets captured in honeycombs of illustrious illusions, incepting conjugated souls intolerant of separation, beguiling the endeavour, tainted acquaintances knit with threads of maured truths,
Forgotten as the mist of the morning drifting by the wind into nevermore, as words written in the sand that are washed away.
Endless
Simple strips of linear conjugates to set webs of fostered illusions spun on the heads of atoms
Dictated sorts gathering the life spreading the fouder incorporating a source. To see is to change, to change makes the seen change, then sight must be sought again, avoid the torment, don’t look, just believe, then the possibilities ARE endless
Rubble
Hollowed heroes drifting into immensely grave stricken lands torn asunder by giants of old, billowing clouds loom ominously overhead, caverns of smoldering sacred slur lingerie. Inornate witnesses watching and waiting for their plunder. Delving desperately into the treasure of another, bathing in their glory commemorating shame engulfed by abandonment. The taste of the felling has come and their glory has turned to stone and rot, valor and strength in character have risen and flooded the once dry land barren of fortitude, now coxed to flourish to grow for the shameful have been cast and the valiant stand as does the character that lies within, amidst the mounds of once thought treasure seemingly only to be rubble
Content Confidence
Immutable mountains of magnificent mavericks molding misaligned mechanisms, melding incorporeal essences of contemptible towers of tears raining torrents, washing clean the arrival of new life entranced by the sparkle that stands alluring the eyes, drawn in by the hook, smitten by the light, the back gets turned and the fire is to start in oneself deflecting false stairs that lead to places of chaos, engulfing tides of immaculate beginnings drenched in waves of assurance instilling content confidence
So We Have Been Told
Gallantly defying intrinsic nodes of melancholy macules staining the unblemished turning to garbs of torn satchels enduring time of lost meanderings, meddling in cosmic affairs twisting the inevitable when patience is present, brought to full fruition through the term spent only to wait for its birth knowing as the steps move one at a time the path will bring forth its reward, even though the journey has been riddled with travesty, it will be, so we have been told.
The Chord
Winnowed orchids arguing not to be isolated from life, to carry delight to the eye however briefly then witheres and disintegrates, tis the sluggish assignment, if this magnificence is the thing that you look for, care for the entire, permit it to keep its cord, so its excellence might be appreciated the full course of the time apportioned such things. The keeping of the climate, the watering, the keeping of the life, might be some work contrasted with the first, wherein the work is short as is the prize, while the later is appreciated to it’s full cycle. There is a spot for both. For whose space is unlimited. And some are very delicate in their needs to ensure vitality.
Expanse and Wisdom
Calculated cohersions of copteic corruption seeding the landscape with confusion touting knowledge of newly discovered landmines of understanding, even though the static is all encompassing, all enveloping, creating concepts of rabid understanding, maneuvering in dark places believing to have epiphanies in mirrors of silver lace with lulibuys meant to coddle soft minds, Remember the days of silent solitude, where nature mezmorized and fascinated when the static was not and clarity was manifest in the soul. Are our spirits not knit with ancestors of ancient days, is the connection too far or has the static destroyed all possibilities of clear correlations between the expanse and wisdom.
Aroma Dreams
Twisted tales of enigmatic monsters of magnificent mayhem being drizzled gingerly down time, converging with the flaccid marching towards decay, Talons forged in gold, pit the sword, unshaken disdain mocking the mark finding flaw in perfection unlauded consciousness bent towards not so secret knowings fuddling fingers as fuddled minds jitter, nervously anxious, Not knowing why as the talon grips and awakens disturbing the hypnotic daze folding caverns into crystals misaligned at the latitude alluring tendrils of ancient lost entities which sleep and smell the aroma of dreams.
Adversity
The essence of time is in the wind drifting by as we watch the circus unfold entranced by the swagger of inadvertent tales of valor met with insurmountable odds bringing about the quality sought. Subservient thoughts all in toward the evident marker, without direction, is there an archer without a mark, there is not, then so as adversity wages it’s war valor is born if the soul may stand amidst the maelstrom. On bent knee he sighs as nature’s furry beats against him, he rises and stands headlong into thee immense coral of confusion, is there and end and what will it be, he does not quit, he may slip, trip, and fall, but he will crawl if need be, this will end before he does before he even thinks of quitting, skin torn and eyes bloodied, hollow to the bone yet standing, the air is clear, calm, and refreshing, the end had finally come but he knew there will always be another, but he gets better each time. But there will be no crown, the crown is to be standing knowing that this is where you come from, that this is who you are…
Egos domain
Cylindrical scaffolding of courageous counter parts drifting distinctly toward the mirages of distant illusions, tethering the gap, haunting the gate waiting, wanting, wavering, slightly inept to regular thinking distracted by the static, conscious ego distorting, subverting, interrupting the construct. Lending distortion to enigmatic visions, holding fast to instilled boundaries, cross the line see the delusion there are no boundaries, only lucid subconsciousness, which is despised by the conscious ego, as does the subconscious ego disrupt lucidity within its domain.
Not Prepared
Cascading scales of illusion trace the landscape piercing the veil colliding surreal into real manipulating the mind rejoicing in the coincidence the pieces fit how can this not be a door Intricately spun signatures echoing through everlasting hallways of the never lost to the silent archives, lost to the flesh, as fleeting as the emotions that birthed it, who knew elegance and wisdom would have shown themselves, we were not prepared, the archives of time have many such as these.
Who Dare Ask Her To Move
Stupefied imaginations relinquished by reason and logic distorted by desire over taken by obsession clinging to discipline edging toward sanity coveting silence ensued by unnatural lavishes, who are we but the voices in our heads the council as it were that dictates our realities Torn asunder are the constructs forged by reason, there is none at the edge, delusion fixes herself steadfast at the gate who dare ask her to move
The Plight That Lies Ahead
Corrupt caverns of contempt seeping silently into the crevices of the inner dwellings of the mind building barriers of silent valleys, sleeping spirits wafting the essence of immortality, colliding with vibrations of flesh instilling life, the flower has opened herself, her scent permeates the air creating primal instincts the aggression is ensued and life has sprung, who is to hold this gift who is to know this gift and the cycle completes and becomes one once again, who can deny it’s delight, though the task is daunting and not for the faint of heart, crushing, and desperate as tears flow, energy sits compressed awaiting the recoil. Breathe and embrace the pain it is a labour of love, a love that can not ever change will not ever change no matter the plight that lies ahead.
Overwhelmed By The Eyes That Seek Us Out.
Tears of once forgotten folly now enthralled by the dynamic mess of mayhem falling despairingly into dark caverns of convoluted consciousness awaiting the torrents of devastation which flow as an avalanche flowing down a mountain, covering all. As the ick threatens to suffocate or consume we cleave to sanity we grasp for love if it would be given us, hollow eyes searching hoping needing eyes that smile back, how lost can we be in familiar surroundings, very lost for where can our hearts rest when will the sweet release come where we can freely extend ourselves unfettered by insecurities but filled with confident safety, overwhelmed by the eyes that seek us out.
It Beats
Cognitive dilutions dripping slivers of characterless constructs evolving into synergistic systems of conquest, manipulating mountains, bending the geometry toward perfect shapes if that is what they could be called for they induce the profound, the irregular, woven tightly into everlasting symbols of eternal consciousness creating an influx of manipulated reality, stirring the pot of gratitude, milking the tree of birth, ensuing the heart that quietly beats keeping the whole of the cosmos in time.
One’s Skin
Depraved knives seeking skin among the tasteless souls of the contrived building temperate yet elaborate meanderings, the labyrinth has caught what is believed to be the intricacies of life, lost within these walls are many drifting down the corridors every step is ripe with meaning no thought of need to escape the comfort within the walls of false wonder subverting ideas of freedom within one’s skin.
Landscape’s Design
A Silent savory spirit sure of the complete, gently nudging behavior strategically placing order within chaos endeavoring to grace the dawn with subtle satisfaction softly accumulating through the sun filled bathing of celestial fragments piercing excitedly through time and space. The song, the symphony, exciting neurons drifting as the shade changes the dynamic, the noise has been drowned by the darkness, silence gently whispers her intention before she overtakes the night. Sporadic nuances disturbed by outbursts of unbridled volume traveling through space unbound, Piercing the essence disturbing the tranquility marring the landscape’s design
Duality in motion
Incinerated separations disguised by temporal correlations knit by hands held to the task, indistinct markings of marvelous machinations distorted by incomprehensible gatherings of inornate souls dividing the pain from the precipice, the falling hurts not, however the perception ahead lays waste to rationale, it tears apart the logic once held to, constructs lending stability adhering the guide rail, the meanderings have causen the trivial mind, distracted by flaccid flashes of perceived importance, conation in motion driven to overcome miniscule mountains seemingly to be insurmountable, contempt has knocked on the door let him pass he has others that he may taunt, foreshadowed temperance allotted fortune, something is missing what is it, scouring on the ground then grasping at the air, searching in dark corners and daylight spreads, to not know what you seek is torment knowing a piece is missing, not knowing where it belongs or what it looks like drives sanity on its way, who will look and find who will look and see, where is this piece, for we are completely incomplete, blissfully ignorant of missing links that pull it all together, dependency is not within it, for to overflow comes from within there is no without that may complete this task, however we are an abundance, balance is the menu of the day, introduce her to your indulgence, scatter her over delicate thoughts, solidified contingencies grouped and shaped by necessary cohersions demassified, thin is the construct and strong is the wind, belittled be the martyr of fallen fancies dancing to hide shame.
Now
Selective secrecy spreading silent scores of symphonic rising and falling casting shadows of mavericks scaling time as goats scale cliffs, contorted wills shifting uncontrollably maneuvering the winds waves, tasting sand with every breath joining in the cosmic water, veering slightly embracing the sliver and pulling, sweet release has made herself present, warmth encases the whole, eyes squint in an elusive pleasure, bidding one to smile in a euphoric amalgamation of collective experiences, finding a focal point converging to create this moment, the present as it were, how fitting is this word to describe itself. Deeply understand this gift, peace ensues all who know this, time has directed herself toward each experience, enabling this very moment caught in the hourglass falling through time. Embrace, gratitude, grip every moment, plead you never forget, the drops that fall before you will only concern you and make you anxious, the storms past will fill your days with grief, for neither may be touched.
Sultry Contortions
Delightful doves of intricately woven facets of feelings drifting carelessly across oceans of overwhelming love, unbridled by false pretense or corrupt insecurities that eat and destroy. No, assured by the synergistic symbiont of the interlocking nuances of conversions spun into quilts of gold, connecting distant hearts that stretch space and time, transcending normal understanding meeting the requirements of an inner standard knit into the psyche, all desire is fulfilled for the lack of judgment is fresh air as is the comfort that comes with the spiral of personalities dance. The smile bursts forth, the heart bubbles to overflow, and the euphoria spurs sultry contortions.
Selective
Secluded souls selectively scouring synergistic systems that sleep silently over valleys of contorted cadavers, engorged bowls of illustrious illusions seething with unforeseeable contempt, giving rise to unknown tones echoing deviously down corridors of lost virtues, colliding mercilessly with wills of the once thought mighty, collecting the tally unnoticed, for murky finds the conscious and derails dispersing the spores of reasonless drivel down the vines that feed.
Our fish is responsibly caught from sustainable sources.
Sightless Hope
Dripping solitude, wandering heavily through the valleys of sheared rock, exposing the underbelly submitting reluctantly to the elements veering toward the crevices that lay ahead. The spring is lost, and the fires quenched, only soot and black remain, can the crustation dig its way out of the mud as the waters flow and cover what was once built, clawing and struggling, yet backward is the way of the torrent, fiercely covering and smothering drawing him into itself. Constant is the battle, and pointless in the all, the task yet finite with eternal implications can it be seen through the mirk, reaction holds her ground as plans melt and get devoured, hopeless and helpless yet ever forging forward, the eyes are covered yet frantically try to see, now all is blind only to trust, yet with no sight, the flailing and falling, slipping and tripping, silently slithering in the mire ever edging toward a clearing that cannot be seen, only hoped for.
Times Time
Balefully staring down emotions rott with extravagantly woven elegiac talismans that spill lugubriously down the page, leaking solemnly into the next, completing the chapter before the ink has hit, dividing indecipherable strategies correlating lost intentions denoting melancholy meanderings mirrored by doppelgangers insomniatic convulsions, breathing in deeply the spores of morose, calculating in darkness the equation of times time.
HD
Conclusions breed as judgment had fallen, so Is the biased mind bound within its own circle, Knitting minuscules of woven intricacies, driven by superiority, enslaved by the ego, tormented by the inner self, the hunger is fierce, spitting sarcastic poison, under the guise, Smile as the edge of a razor vibrates with deviously dancing eyes, over extravagant in its visual, as if HD were real life.
Guide Her Well
Confused be the chrysalis encased, blind to transformations bliss, Enduring, not knowing, existing, not realizing, far between lay the lattice of grace, forged by the ever-optimistic ploy, Dwindling fortitude or reinforcing capacities well, dance she said for today the day of her freedom, where shall she go, in newness with an unrealization, a dream state euphoria, frantically fluttering aimlessly, still trying to figure out who or what she is, may grace follow her, for her newness brings folly, experience is wanting and vision distorted, defiance and stubbornness furrow in her brow, make haste time and guide her well.
The Kackle of Gulls
Toddry tales of corrosive connotations, playing the strings of times frailty, eloquently merging soft demeanors with calloused character, immobilizing spiritual curiosities so as to blind the scale that already exists within, delusion of the already deluded succumbing to belligerent wailings of the monstrously overproduced, as if there were skin in this game, only masks and prosthetics, sheltered in paint and texture, under the guise of flawless endeavors, clueless to the meaning the masters tried so desperately to teach, stretching eons of wisdom repeated down the millennia only to be suffocated in sarcophagus of dust and loathing, if they walk among us they have finally lost hope and stay there lips not to open, for grieved are the hearts of the wise, not one word is heard from them, the air is silent and has lost its savory flavor, the brightness has dimmed, and only the kackle of gulls fills the air.
Precognitive Lucidity
Despondent follicles of festoring fraternization ,denoting inconceivable laws written within a nefarious concepted illogic, denounced beliefs amidst sought after paths not traveled, willing to be lost, to find pieces of fragments foggy and eroded unable to fit together, satisfaction in chaos, ridding oneself of precognitive lucidity.
A Trillion Minds
Daedal drippy, seething, encompassing the souls song, echoing eternity, meting emotion unknown, the beholder, a trillion eyes gaze the interpretation, as if men could understand the likeness of a god, yet convey through corruption the veneration so deeply sought, correlate miss stepped stones put aside, the swamp is to heavy and dank, the picture pained now envisioned, coldness is felt as well the cool thick air, yet the canvas sits unmoved and voiceless, it still speaks in a trillion minds.
Cosmic Streams
Intersecting dimensional insights breathing in airless space, drifting droplets forced statically into an incoherent spark not noticed or perceived, yet the energy burst forth without knowledge of its magick, springs into action every time, without fail, no approval needed. Separated from opinions of falibale creatures that believe themselves to be anything but, yet knowing, delightfully being free to be what it is amongst all things being scarcely noticed, delightfully dancing within its purpose, enthralled by the random yet predictable course that the cosmic streams provide.
Voices Ring
Contingent curiosities dwarfing delectable diadems, relinquished by mortars stone hand, exquisitely manipulated to intrinsic dust, giving birth a new, beauty mistaken and wisdom lost, hearts full, drain it quickly so none is left before the hunter calls, confronted minds by its own intellect, tearing asunder the structures once so neatly clung too, the council within has many, how is it then, that we are only one, wherefore then do the other voices ring.
Where One Must Reside
Distilling spirits of ancient elixirs, bedeviled by corsets of candy coated candor, paralyzed as the fire reaches down to the depths, the mind, sharp as fields of razors, body like stone, immovable, involuntary, slurred and seduced, the spirits twist and turn within its playground, dulling nerves eliciting thee induction, seeking smiles but only finding smoke, for within the glaze lies the worm, before this seat may be sat, the light of the eye and the warmth of the soul must be felt to know where one must reside.
Heart of Fire
Bliss beats her chest frantically seeking a perch to rest her weary desire which burns fervently within her essence, the listless fire that drives her brings her to waters of overflowing which do not Quench her but only feed her need to find a place to fill her heart of fire with a fire unrelenting consuming her being, bringing her peace and rest, for the entrancement sways with the flames creating a silent serenity.
No Reason
Delinquent deities delightfully drifting dignity down devout disciples demeanor, Encasing erratic emersions emitting electric essences eluding endeavors elaborated, For favored fantasies formed fathomable features forlong formidable forecasts foretold freely, Tis no rhyme nor reasons that cast these words as lots of bone tossed to the ground that read futures frailty.
The Audience
Enthralled be the gods of men, curiously lending one eye to their deeds, softly spoken drivel masked with good intentions marred, naive souls of inner joy slightly dripping into the cauldron of the destitute, Far be it from misery to not have her companion with her, deliverance begat hope, as sorrow begets tears, shallow be the martyrs’ voyage, for as men scramble seeking sight, and direction, the mirrors distort, acoustically disturbed, as the echo vibrates in incoherent nuances which create illusions of apparent greatness, the rumble of laughter falls from its hidden chambers, The stage has set us, our course improvised, as the audience of gods sit watching.
The Depth Of
The passion play ensues, unfolding hidden doorways leading to ancient corridors, bending the understanding toward an old, yet new concept of changing the colors that surround, Hopeful delight, sits amongst the stars, and anticipation rests on their brow. Illustrious subversions of peripheral unawareness, scrolling through archives of intricately woven ciphers, exacting measurements lost to times hand, caught in the tidal waves, crashing against the immutable clock, forecasting the depth of solitude to which the soul may soar.
Distant Ship
Distant Ship smoke on the horizon, sailing listlessly toward the edge, there is no thoughts of home, for none will be back here again, only the mind can imagine the treachery or the fantasies that await, none have ventured the edge save these few, yet still the cannons were pointed , and yet still they hit over and over, not a man moved as they hit and the smoke billowed, for what lay ahead was of much more concern, they would not be stopped, theirs ships would not sink before the edge had over taken them, some smiled horrific smiles, while other waved without emotion, others yet held theirs heads in theirs hands, even though sight was not obstructed, and the edge drew near, the shock still rippled through each man, as they went off the edge of the world. Natural laws had vanished, as they sailed vertically down to the sea below, now wild eyed and full of the energy of life, fire ran in their veins, what would become of them when the sea below met them. Fear had fled and only a distorted sense of expectation lay in its place, disappointed not, as they plunged into the deep, the muffled yells and screams of confusion seemed dull and far, soaring the torrents, streams of ancient pathway move throughout the channels of the deep, a calm realization slowly crept, none have been harmed, life is held by each, dulled and muted senses change within an instant, light shines and up is the order of the day, radiant and scorched each face shined as the sun, eyes dancing as dragons at starlight. The upward streams ejecting them onto the natural plan, Distant Ship smoke on the horizon as they sail listlessly toward the edge, there is no thoughts of home, for none will be back here again.
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