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Thought Dump #1I.
Could you prepare something,
that people normally eat for once?
Well we normally eat this stuff you know.
That is not what I meant.
never mind, false alarm.
I thought it was the---
I'm not sleeping in the tent this time.
My back has gotten all these weird pits and sores.
Don't sleep on the bones then.
Bones? you guys actually had bones put in there? I'm impressed.
What on mother rock do you mean?
the amount of detail for the camouflage....
y'know the elephant disguise!
Many people died in the process of acquiring the tents
by the time we managed to slay the elephan----
THESE ARE REAL?!!?!
That's it. Not sleeping in there again.
Don't worry the couple you met earlier rented it out.
You're too young to ask that question
I am not too young! We are the same age,
hell the same pers---
But someone has to save your innocence.
They'll only accept a pure mind.
Who says t
An Untrained Touch
An Untrained Touch
My fingertips take a spill,
covering your body, in your pockets they congeal
trace with pressure, I watch the blood resurface
daintily dangerous, and at the same time worth it
My fingertips take a pinch,
a rosy aftermath, almost similar to a singe
the color of your lips, now stand adjacent
subtly your body gives way, without misstatement
My fingertips take a break,
now I hold a firm grip, no longer I rake
palmed, static, to try and catch your heart
beats from beneath our chests tearing us apart
My palms break a sweat,
it's amateur hour, and I accompany a vet
this is not your first, and likely not your best
what makes it all worse, your rhythm remains at rest
My palms pinch a nerve,
myself stolen from movement, without a healthy urge
progressing sullenly, dare to seem brash
once was a thriving ember, now a single ash
My palms spill a way,
for me to get away, these goods are too used to pay
honesty's approach to life is something of a gem
with callousness it often opens up a void within
where insignificance meets a freezing desperation
a vacuum's symphony to a sophist generation
the primrose path powered by our decadence
said to have a cost but I laugh at the malevolence
rather us a hostage and convinced it's all a test
a coincidence is only miraculous if it's blessed
which leaves me at a standstill unable to contend
cause questions are a blemish and will lead to your descent
victim to the fear of death for it transcends existence
a guiltless trend to apprehend the lost and often witless
the extraordinary ability to comprehend
the ordinariness of which we are all condemned
the truth never hurts, not even on occasion
and if you're filled with lies, then this is your abrasion
Landmines and sexy slow jams
Landmines and SEXY slow jams
before or behind its time, existing in the present
it solemnly dances alone, the dance of death
hoarder of work unfinished, merely abandoned
unable to create whilst pleasing its audience
passion-stripped, with befuddled concentration
stripped of soul, left with phlegmatic impressions
unmoved with calm disregard for moral decency
no longer good or bad, knowing there only is
gripping the poison, with generous sips
creates an illusion of increased social ability
sensory synesthesia, juggles his taste and feel
a euphoria of stimulation, aided by incompetence
its moves first intricate, holding awareness
its moves now indolent, losing its steps
of the landmines that lay in wait for weight
a single one lies adjacent to the soles of his feet
time is the enemy, as is the sexy song's progression
one off beat slip and he will leave this cage forever
passing and existing only through the mouths of men
whispering amongst prodigally enslav
clash of polar opposites creates the balance
destructive construction that'll exude natural talents
the blind advantage give faint smiles fat pockets
to shelve creative freedom in return for profits
the exposure you hungered for is now in abundance
only problem is your forced to expose a lie to the public
the truth riddled and hidden behind tongues fencing
past identities too distant for memories to mention
only weathered grunts heard behind the media muzzle
to find artistic value is like fixing a broken puzzle
of a thousand pieces stretched across the holy nations
streets paved with gold only the peasant's anticipation
because they know not the masked burden of success
the hindrance mandated to please the general press
to be embraced with acceptance but only just to crawl
never fly and only allowed to stand if you're not that tall
forget your dreams and higher callings you face a decision
bend your image for the master or fly with the pigeons
two universes -
John-a-Dreams dreams endlessly in a dead dimension
remorseless to the time wasted on baseless perplexing
the subconscious universe expands to greater planes
of contrived existence unaware of physical disdains
when he awakes, he finds he's lost track of the world
it has heard nothing from him except thoughts purled
a burning wish to supply both with equal attention
but his conjured creation justifies his own pension
it outweighs himself that exists realistically instead
so long he has been invisible, its best to believe him dead
dead to the world because he fancies more the dreams
where he can wine and dine anything that he fiends
he cannot deny it, he would rather live vicariously
instead of handling his universes simultaneously
Hello, hello, helloHello, hello, hello.
Is that you behind the door?
I haven't known you round this way,
since many years before.
Hello, hello, hello.
I can hear you by the sink.
I'd offer you a cup of tea,
if you had lips to drink.
Hello, hello, hello.
I thought you might drop by.
You always loved these barn-storm nights,
when lightning cracks the sky.
Hello, again, hello.
In the draft I feel your touch.
It does me good to know you're near,
and hurts me just as much.
Hello, my dear, hello.
We shared such postcard bliss.
It cracked like lightning on that night.
A dark night just like this.
Hello, a soft hello.
A nothing sort of fight.
I dashed a plate against the wall.
You stormed into the night.
Hello, my love, hello.
I hoped that you'd come back.
By wind-blown door I kept my watch,
and felt my still heart crack.
Hello, a long hello.
The years have left their mark.
My hands are cold; my eyes grow weak.
I'm left here in the dark.
Sit down and say hello.
I'll go pour that cup of tea.
I haven't lo
Let Venom LieMore than I could bother to resist.
Though I know how it ends, I begin.
Break each promise off my list.
Bleach and menthol can't clean away my sin.
If I calcify, then what is left?
Polluted vessels itching ever more;
A poisoned, bloated soul bereft;
Each last shred of the self I deplore.
I would break my bones to slake a thirst
Bubbling back stronger with every snap.
Fighting off screams before I burst.
Brick myself in with my own sweet trap.
Each line I spin will sing tomorrow -
Sell it like silver and watch it grow.
Lies can tarnish just like sorrow
Becoming the secrets my parents need to know.
CluesI’ll give you clues
They’ll be there
It’s your choice
Or to ignore
I gave you clues
They were there
And now they’re gone
But I saw none!
Instrumental nothingnessCapitalizing on the fears you hold inside so close
The ones you try to hide and run away from the most
From fake façades to false fronts the walls built so high
The entire world sees teary waters collect in reddish eyes
A sleeve is often meant to cover certain tender flesh
Yet this is where passions lay displayed for all the rest
It should be effortless to control a part of you
But why is it so difficult when emotions go askew
I know logic is folly and that I am no machine
So how does one control a fiery love lined passions unseen
In times of dark and despair,
In times of test and trouble,
I refuse to be in this bloody rubble.
I have much at stake,
that is up to take,
and slide in the Devil's wake.
For my friends sake,
I will fight on.
Because he is worthy of this par take,
above my grave, the bloody lake.
Mind in Madnesscan you see what coils inside?
behind these sleepless, weary eyes?
a chaos, i cannot abide
yet within my thoughts it lies.
A drum beat or a lambent cord
pulsing deep inside my skull
i pray my sense to be restored
yet the drum beats never dull
Swirling, like a vortex storm
ceasing not, its twisting ways
again i pray, for lucid form
and wait for brighter days
such a mind, in madness caught
beseeching, clarity to come
yet all my prayers i know are naught
this inner tumult leaves me numb
Heart of the Woman IIHeart of the Woman
What will glow like fire every night?
What will shine like the stars?
What will glimmer so brightly
That one will see it from afar?
What will have value more than precious stones,
More than silver and gold?
What has a price so dear when bought
But never should be sold?
Men, if you don't know, then ask your wives; if they don't know, then ask Puabi.
Of chivalry long forgotten'Tis odious that I must repeat,
these words in solemn tone.
But in this hour I seek retreat.
For I feel the most alone.
I feel as if the world has left
those tenants once held dear.
and this new age does seem bereft
of all concord, I fear.
I find solace in lores of old.
Of time when manners ruled.
but do wonder, had they foretold,
they'll soon be overruled
would they have then bore
differently, their day to day affairs?
would have they then tore
in despair, these moral codes of theirs?
but then my heart to me says "nay,
they were too good for such.
They'd still have lived their day to day
chivalrous, very much"
And thus it is that leads me to
think "Something's gone wrong here"
"why is it so, that now man too,
over morals despair?"
"why is it so that now-a-days
goodwill and courtship dead
do still yet longingly do gaze
at every single head?"
"why still do men, if even some
hold fast to friendships fair
and still do long, though troublesome
to for their friends be there?"
as my remaining adolescence divorces it's host
and my teen angst hooks up with sterility
I feel grounds for my future raising a toast
to all my dreams and fancies that'll never be
there's little time left for all these idle pleasures
and it's too late for me to design a better plan
I'm tying the knot to my noose with my own endeavors
and my procrastination is kicking the stand
I feel hatred for the people that led me astray
but at the same time I'm angry with myself
I know there's plenty more that feel the same way
open your eyes before you end up getting shelved
while the almighty ra continues to kiss the carrion
for more souls to follow a bitter lost passion
I hope they wake up to the heavy load they're carrying
and pick better goals that'll led a life without ration
Her CatalystAs she walks through the maelstrom, the words trace upon the tips of her fingers and press into the stone. Every brick, every crack in the concrete, every crossed and angular stroke in reds and blacks and oranges. The drips of the gasoline pool around the base of her boots, slosh as she steps over the burst pipes and the rubble.
So much rubble. So little outcry. The silence of the city grates on her eardrums and the mantras she'd been forced to memorize. The Seers demanded they observe thirteen years of recitation before they attempt to weave their first World together.
But who other than the Seers can claim the incantations that knot the skeins they twist and pull on like reins hold fast? When have any of the Sisters recorded the visions they traced upon space-time and recited them, left them open for critique and discussion and debate?
Which is why she walks through the chalky soot of the smashed city around her. This all
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