thebookofspells

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Chapter One, Page Three

Twelve Steps Towards Redemption

I forfeit all my worldly ways

I seek the help I need

I start anew, the ground afresh,

I plant a different seed.

I cannot hide here anymore,

Here there is no light,

It seems in all my nights of dark,

I lost what meager sight,

I had before, oh woe is me,

Oh pity here, the fool,

Who did indeed once play the game,

Committed to the cool.

aftermath (epilogue I)

After four long years of being lost in a wood
All that remains is the lil kid who could
He's heard he can, thinks he will, knows he should
He's got the guile to get to God for good

All the while each thought's ticking away
His gift's gotten stale, he's in a slump to say
The least he's a beast with that piece of the play
But the rut he's been stuck in's in too deep today

As usual, he use the will to plot and scheme
When he should be writing rhymes, the kind to rock the teens
Put the other projects down, he's got to stop the dream
Before his whole life passes, curtains drop, and scene.

So he's, back to the pen again, the headphones, the searching,
Digging through debris for his original version
Built it from the ground up, he's wound up but driven
Discovered how to break out and, make a decision

bleh

Reign, Reign, Go Away

I can only speak of what I know
And that really isnâ€™t much.
Itâ€™s a sea of confusion really,
A loss of all sense of touch.
Part inquiry, part answer-
Part honesty, part lies
Itâ€™s a cage of your construction!
Itâ€™s a prison for your eyes.
Would they understand you?
Were you holier than thou?
Or would they reprimand you-
Send a ruler to your brow?
I wonder what They think of,
Evâ€™ry day whilst They drink,
The blood of wand'ring animals,
Till plump and fat as finks.
Do they marvel at the taste?
Do they lick their chops and smile?
Or do they lean back on their throne of bones,
And pick their teeth for awhile?
Perhaps they share sad stories
Of when they once fooled us all,
And now they feel remorse,
For their rule is soon to fall:
â€œFor God Himself is coming
To right the ways ...

Chapter One, Page Six (The Clocktower)

the Time, is waiting for no man or woman.

So tell me: why do you stare?

Wherefore are you looking,

And are you hiding, deep down there?

I will assure you,

The Answers Lie,

Right outside your Door.

the Door to your soul treasure,

the eternal Door's key,

Rests right there where you left it:

Rests right there next to me!

Makes slower sense, surely-

To those who were the Lost.

We the seekers, we the searchers.

We the workers, and the cost.

...and yet...

the Time has come.

the Time has come to set you free.

Read the fiddler's riddle:

the Time has come, he tells to thee.

For within the Sea of Sands

Lies the Towers of thy Time;

Beneath which casts the shadows,

Of your moonlit dance and rhyme.

Where hallways trick and tick-a-tock,

Oh mirror, mesmerize.

Turn back from here, I'll...

Twenty Seven

the number where ascension leads these city streets

to meet their gritty beginning winning wars wrought

from dripping first blood lips of the Dark Wizards equipped

with the worldplay to earth sway, or rather earth swing

for from the puppet strings they bring the scene on which we sing

much like caged birds the sage learns to listen while the page turns

heroes earn the truth but the villains watch the age burn.

Chapter One, Page Four

remember that your king is your queen.

snow white as she goes to sleep,

eating poisoned appleseeds

growing to serpents' trees.

oh urban peeps, meek:

will you heed? will you heed?

serpentine silences speak.