Apostate, apostrophe?
Faces in the crowd?
Scenes in plays, dramatic be!
Bury deep, O shroud...
Queens of high end greatness?
These exist, but are rare.
Golem, gold. Take thy best guess!
Could be anywhere...
Fair? Life? Dance upon my knife!
Hollow hills and strife.
Flickering like notes a-fife?
Raw roundabout rife...
Wife, thy furious temper-main!
Deep as ocean blue!
Vampire, best avoid that vein!
What the hell to do?
Lament? Over duress stark.
Cold core confuse call.
How indeed the day gets dark...
Placer soil of Saul...
What the heck has happened here?
What did I just write?
Prophet wisdom gets severe!
Fate, been feeling bright?
Light atop the high cliff face?
Hope for sparks apace.
Otherwise be-fevered chase!
Crushed in carapace...
"Their cross will decay
Rome will be as a phoenix
Helios will reign supreme"
"The sun always sets
Accept the eagle’s old age
Find dominion in your mind"
Archon of the west, whose spouse was the worldly Sophia
Who blindly abandoned his childhood lamb, to search for unseen light
Though the lamb could have showed him the pure gnosis he craved for
Poem (from a Gnostic Christian perspective) about the Roman Emperor Julian the Apostate, who abandoned Christianity in favour for philosophical Paganism.
I will jerk and jump over them like a whirlwind
I will blow away my horse up on them and will mingle them into dust
I will set fire and burn their flag of miscreant
heat and combustion will burn their house
in the fire given by your son.
Ego of them will burn to ashes when it burns
O Mom, give me your blessings these to earns
my blood is boiling fast and fast in anger
it is extreme, like the thunder
please make me ready for war, please mom.
The mother loses eyesight tears flowed down her cheeks
she wrapped her son around her chest and kissed
she feels to be proud of her son's thoughts like this
says yes Khokon my son you must keep your promise.
Peoples today lost their humanity, bloods are flowing
thousand of lives dies in their nasty acts, such a situation ongoing
yes my son go fast go to war field the lamp to lit
run your horse run fast such a human race to built.
No mom, not a want such cannibalism religion
but a want to be a human, I don't want religion.
If your blessings mom, if remains mine upon
in my acts and deeds will my religion be goes on.
I will build the nation, the glory the virtues will remain in human
where there will never be abduction the humanity thereon.
I will run in full motion and will break all the barriers of religion
I will break the grip of the disability; I will, I will mom.
On that day humans; humanity will be their reign
where the sky will come down to its land
will not fell the thunder to knock thereon,
well nourished man will worship only to human
all will be same in thought and in religion.
No little baby will cry, nor his poor mom
it will no longer remain the land of slaughterhouse in turn
in softness on the ground beneath the open sky
people will dwell in happiness and with their mourn.
Anyone in pain , kinsman will accompany him
they will compensate his loss
no one will cry in the storm of sorrow and pain
the society will wake up in gross.
Mom don't cry further more, daddy is there
in the sky in star in night and in the dawn
I can see him there mom listen to him
saying establish the seed of love khokon.
Today I promise in this dawn in morning
I will write the song of destruction in the form of a hero
to break the trap of the religion
and will fill the world with the luster of love, mom; will not be a zero.
I will not be afraid of war in the land of slaughter
give me the sword to do the war mom
it's my dream dreams of hope, dreams of you
glitters of which will wake up the society
will remove the darkness the pain and the storm.
i insist on suffocating slowly
still
i refuse to die
imposing my will to weakness
avoiding applying the “why”
implications are closing in, opressive
my mind is open, fluid
suggestive
interposing meaning and form with
the spoken and written letter
the light source filtered through all this
wreckage
the squeaking moving in, opressive
regressive, the way my vantage remains
a disjointed unit-whole
you persist, and i suffocate quickly
you ask so nicely for me to die
deposing my God damned will to power
why do i seem to avoid the “apply”?
THE SYMBOL ON MY HAND IS BURNING
into the flesh, and back out from inside
illuminates Prison, a chasm, a prism
dividing a spectrum of impossible light
we wholly refract the soma, the psyche
The Panic transforms into beauty inane
compulsion, obsession, redemption, addiction
we know we’re alive
we perpetuate pain
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