Universal Constants

To be human in a world of madness
To remember that we are of sameness
Freedom of a road not taken
Prods me along to show you to awaken
Countless fields to sow and reap
And yet all I see of them makes me weep
To be an animal in a world of cruelty
To remember that the universe lacks subtlety
In chaos and hostilities portrayed
In the end laying in front of a fire, flayed
Forgotten pieces of consciousness, damning
Likened to a dead man walking
To be beyond the fleeting nature of life
To remember that like a tree bereft of strife
Calm and swaying in the wind, unperturbed
Yet ever so often, hewn and disfigured
Passing on the rings of your core to the living
Not unlike a dead man walking
Ever so often questioned on life
Cyclical never ending
The imaginary and the real
The more things change
The more they stay the same
That in essence the very nature of life
A principle of the flesh, sinews and atoms
Of You, complete, once perceived

Fleeting & Ominous

In fleeting moments, it comes

Floating serenely

Drowning in chaos

Cyclical in nature


A souls bereavement

Incomprehensible bewilderment

Benign and calm

Yet menacingly ominous

A procession of seconds


Serpent Tongue

An experiment in automatic writing.

Silhouette slacking,
Lip smacking,
Emptying the lake of virtues,
Silver line across the sky,
Humanoid beings and other worldly light,
Wild headlights veer out of the way of a dawn,
Yawning people walk streets of flesh,
With no stars associated with no moon,
Pretty boys over on the left,
Over grown abnormalities taint existence,
Universes fall through pocket holes,
Glittering slime reflections,
Of pretty bubbles surfacing,
With talkative camels, raining,
Starry bubbles staring on,
At snakes dangling pots of holes,
Leaking from two bottomless pits of,
Uplifting shadows, unstable, unstoppable,
Cling on with maniacal laughter,
Gathering at throats end with the end of the world,
Time spent facing two looking glasses,
Cajoling heat throbs downed,
With light erupting from the ends of men’s tools,
Slick greasy hang on towels,
Running across trees,
Blue in color for seven days,
With the seventh one of the seven,
Prostrating for the glory of the serpent spent


Their eyes were empty

empty too I had become

Devoid of all passion and belief

In a future, resplendent and joyous

Swallowing suffering with a smile

You, with bright eyes alluring what could be

Instilling in me, hope and life

To give your world to me

Baring fangs once more, in time

Stepping forward to meet a new sunrise

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