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MIA

To whoever actually reads any of this,

I’ve been working steadily since May, not a lot of personal time feels like I’ve enslaved myself. I apologize for the sudden break in writing, I have strayed from the self. As the world continues to corner itself, I hope my writings reach who they need to. In the coming years we will hopefully see the truth break free-the revealing. The Revelation or Apocalypse, as you frightened may call it. The translation from Greek apokalyptein “uncover, disclose, reveal” doesn’t seem to mention hell on Earth.

Heil Trump

 

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It Twitches and Festers

The levee’s been pushed to a brink,
If caught in the midst a heavy heart would sink.
Tears from heaven pour down hardened rain.
if only such a thing could wash away the pain.

Quiet and somber I feel your despair.
The shell of a man forewarned to beware.
And still she told me she gets what she wants,
Shifting emotions nullified if the past still haunts.

Our love is a cauldron mixed of bitters and sweets.
While my once wicked ways through your scars it seeps.
Aches in my chest from happiness divest;
Too little, too late—what once was, now irate.

Forgiveness a thing only measured by time,
and through it all I just wish you were mine.
To you I seek to do good—for all I repent
but kindness is misunderstood with outcry’s of resent.

Are you the dawn that had already set,
or the sunrise I never knew I had met?

Painting by William Blake
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Seeking

Cast into the physical,
a Sethian just looking for residuals.
In a sea of sheep, it’s hard to find any individuals.

Forbidden from the garden,
are the two with concealing garment.
For they had tasted knowledge and for that were abolished.

Oh Saklas, be thee foolish,
thinking Fate on your side is your true wish.
The prevalence of goodness is your cold dish.

Yet millions of years later,
the Demiurge is still a fuckin’ hater.
Still waitin’ on the end, but that’s a story for later.

To the rich few we cater,
bailing them out just to produce another failure.
Never asking, just obliging and waiting for the savior.

Between logic and insanity we reside,
of the rich and poor no greater divide.
He who will cross the Rubicon shall cast out the final lie.

Getting high on a whim,
both cursed and blessed by Djinn.
The struggle of salvation only found within,
but it’s much easier to just bask in sin.

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From Bitter Submergence, Loving Enlightenment.

This life it weighs on thee.
Bound to material,
the physical we endure combatively.
Earth-born all is ephemeral.

Ancient works uncovered,
only intensify a burden.
We are fallen angels unfeathered,
—of that I am certain.

Two into one, of three we be.
Yet unto one a return,
and of three they see.
Of transcendent planes we yearn.

Mortality the prescription,
sense perception an unawakened state.
Past loves I’m missin’-
dwelling on the things I hate.
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Of those from within,
and those of without.
Some just trying to win,
others filled with doubt.

On heavens light we pretend,
the end we cannot comprehend.
Seek and ye shall find,
an aeon not bound by time.

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It’s the bottom of the 9th and I can’t find my bat.

Two roads split off from here,
never felt so open, nor so near.
Too late to breathe, too little to adhere.

My life is a colored path of missed taken steps.
Swallowed my share of mistaken breathes,
all of which I aim to keep, souls I chose to reap.

A darkness held me,
and you always told me,
if I only knew how to be set free.

It came from within,
didn’t call, a pretentious way to win.
Never required science, no nuclear fission.
Just a willingness to see a tardy vision.

Been dead all this time,
Frankenstein’s monster I was a mime.
Most intelligent, all pain, all grime.

Giving life to a thing that had past,
the weight of someones world like steel ballast.
Sunken down the river, hoped you’d never last.

I cursed you like the sun,
a scorn you could outlast.
Now I sit in lament,
wishing you could leave just as fast.

Yet I come as soldiers torches burning the night.
‘Come out my dawn’, unaware you’d adorn a fight.
A war lost-one of attrition, a beggars fiction.

Time is a selfish bitch.
All you did was wish
for a time I was yours,
and emptiness was no lore.

Can’t seem to hold a beat,
liquor knocking me off my feet.
Let us be absolved-be let free.

No longer alive and not nearly dead.
Wish I could take back all the things I had said.
Yet that is the sentiment of time,
no ones truly yours, you are not mine.

So feed your fancies from a screen,
only hope you won’t hear me scream.
Cannot fathom, cannot see,
on this bar stool I’d rather lean.

‘Why are you being nice?’
‘Why do you like me?’
You are the fire that thawed the ice
after years to you it wasn’t likely.

Oh how stubborn the scars that refuse to fade.
Or are they reminders of better days?
No just a reason to stay away.
Four years lost but still love-always.

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Love is War I

The employee working the shoe department returned, carrying 4 boxes of hiking boots. Placing them amongst the other shoe boxes near the customer, she then began to explain why he had brought out boots one size to small. After the rehearsed explanation, she remained unconvinced that smaller shoes would truly benefit her feet on a hiking excursion. The frustrations of the two parties were felt; all the while, he scanned the many items the store contained within. Two aisles for hiking socks, another for underwear, some aisles contained all the necessities for a modern camping experience, most of which were unnecessary for survival. He checked the price tag of a popular woman’s black jacket he would get her: $120. His bank account read $15.

Disgruntled, he returned to the shoe department where his lover was still trying on boots. Somehow more boxes had appeared. A new employee had begun to help her, this time he pushed the ‘one-size smaller’ envelope further by lacing the shoes and having her stand facing downward on a prop sloped stone. The couple sat back down after the dubious display—still too small.

“Do you feel that?” the salesman asked, pressing at her crammed toes through the shoe.lady-in-black
Yea” the aggravated customer remarked, half-flailing her hands in frustration.

Her present company began to feel uncomfortably frustrated with her; knowing that the salesman was pushing his agenda too extensively, yet her exacerbated body language wasn’t helping the situation. The couple took their leave, as she had not settled on a shoe.

“I need a break.” the salesman remarked to the his coworker as they made way to the exit.
“Did you hear him? What an asshole!” speaking softly solely to her other.
“You are kind of difficult to deal with, if spoken honestly.” he lashed back at the ignorance of her body language and condescending retorts.

She stood her ground, knowing she was in her right regarding the individual size of her own feet. He was understandably aware, mentioning the salesman was in fact pushing his methods too heavily. After all, the customer is always right, as they say, and if she had the money to make a purchase, why would one hinder that for the business. Once they returned to the vehicle, an argument ensued.
She, stating he never is on her side; he, stating she is infuriating beyond degree.
The dispute shifts to offenses from prior occasions.
He, accusing her of laziness for not wanting to cook with him; she, recalling his dishonest deeds from the past. A discord of silence enveloped them entirely on the way home prior to the climax of their anger.

At her apartment no words were uttered, and yet the frustrating ill temper creeped.

“Should I leave?” he asked, wondering if there was anything to salvage, perhaps some sympathetic apologies to be shared.
“I don’t care!” she snapped back.

The pain from her comment turned him bitter and black. All emotion left him. Packing his things, the familiar thing of it all made him believe this was the last time. They both knew they were in their own individual right to feel this particular way. Walking out the door, then toward the gate of the complex, she strode behind him, carrying her canine compatriot.

“What are you doing?” quietly asked, as her feet came to a halt while he turned to answer.
“I’m leaving you, what does it look like?!”  they verbally contended softly, being as they were in between balconies and fellow tenants.

Her beautiful face welled with tears while his passions fleeted him. Be strong, act tough—you don’t need this shit, he thought to himself. Tired of pursuing him, she let go. Tired of running, he drove off.

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The Poet

A moody child and wildly wise
Pursued the game with joyful eyes,
Which chose, like meteors, their way,
And rived the dark with private ray:
They overleapt the horizon’s edge,
Searched with Apollo’s privilege;
Through man, and woman, and sea, and star,
Saw the dance of nature forward far;
through worlds, and races, and terms, and times,
Saw musical order, and pairing rhymes.

-Ralph Waldo Emerson