The Book of Spells: Chapter Thirteen While muse is here
I'll follow suit
And dig in heart with spade
A grass of green
A turnip root
A cripple I became
How sad is he
To mope about
How lost is he to stare
Into the trees like hopeless routes
Which ultimately lead nowhere
I found the tree
I found the cave
I found the sWords Within
I fought the beast
I heard a shout
I silenced all the din
Until I saw a bright gold light
Until I saw the page
Until I read the first few words
And fell into an age.
They told me tales so lost in time
I never heard before
Inside the clicking clocktower
I found the hidden door.
And into I went, into I came
Until I knew the truth
And now I hear the piper's song
No matter which I choose:
To listen or to laugh and love,
The damage has been done. ... |
The Death of the Old Me I remember things. Strange things.
From a world I made up in my head.
I still live there. I visit here.
But I feel as though I'm dead.
Or some sort, of mania,
Something I can't explain.
I need to find some remedy.
A need to erase the pain..
I feel the shame in every day.
I barely can endure,
But I remain here just enough,
To tell myself a tale,
To reach inside these broken eyes,
To see the holy grail.
I see the world in front of me,
I feel the life within,
But still I seem to fall apart,
When hope is suddenly dim.
How come I lost the way to be,
How come I fell behind?
Why did my friends all leave from me?
Why also did my mind?
I hope to have a way again,
I hope to someday be free,
I pray that madness leaves from me,
I pray that all will see.
<... |
Tell Me
Spend most of my days, locked in my past
Living in regret I forgot when the last
Time I felt alive was, its no surprise because
Everywhere I go I'm still caught in the grasp
Of all these damned lies I tell myself
I've got too much pride, I don't need your help.
I never even try to conceal my health
So just leave me alone, in these seas I've dwelt
For far too long. Now I know I've lost touch, but
What I got left's what I need, its enough:
A dream and a team and a reason to rush
The stage with these pages, I'm even and up
For anything, more than we're ready for
We're slow going, but rowing to steady shores
Past sirens who sang through my heart before,
Told me what I lost then, was already Yours.
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The Book of Spells (Chains III) "And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it." -Roald Dahl
I believed and its true, if you are searching for something
If your heart truly desires a thing, the thing will find you
But you must be prepared for whatever consequences
The thing brings with it, because there is no turning back
My perception of the world is a story, but it is unfortunately one written
In pen; in permanence
Ink which drinks ever-quickly
Its what I've spent my life on the past four years
Searching for proof written on walls of red
Take what the water gave me
And give it back in whichever way I can
Do good, teach and change the world
Lord, help me, give me direction
Universe, spread my wings
I have named the ailment in my mind
He... |
The Madness (Chains II) It's the ***ing voice in my head that tells me all these lies
Aye, all day long I fight with myself now THAT is what had made me a little crazy
Can you imagine? If you cannot trust your own mind, what CAN you trust?
It's a melodrama, a battle born in the depths of a heart eaten away by madness but ahh,
How the soul fights back! And such a defense this is reminding you, that you are eternal
And what is all this but a minor trial in the grander design of the heavens?
How to even acknowledge the problems of a mere mortal when,
The sun and the moon and the stars continue spinning
And we are apart of that perfect circle
I understand that I am the hero, the villain,
The threshold guardian, the shadow, the trickster,
The liar, the liberator, the separation within
I am the author of my own madness
And quite a story I tell
God I confess to you all because
... |
oblivion II should have
resisted
the temptation
to see everything
to see all
endless greed
avarice
my vice
like wind in a hollow
ive emptied
the doors have closed
leaving
noise
endless
noise
trapped in here
with you
betrayer
monster. menace. mania. melancholy. |
oblivion light has faded
ever since I left
i closed the book
now i feel nothing
nothing seems real
as if in a dream
i apologize im
stuck in between
i cant see it
i cant see you
sightless eyes
no surprise
should have
heeded
the warning |
bloody damn well right the goal is to save the world. we're in this together now, nine inch nails style. are you ready? cause kaboom here it comes. I am, as ready as ill ever be and i know not why or when or how BUT
I know where
here! in america (arcadia) city of games and freedom and lies and burgers and fries
opportunity to fight either side of the war funded by masterful puppeteers
bankers, blackhand, illuminati, santa claus call it what you like
funny, havent they heard its a war of words?
symbols on either side thrown with reckless abandon they aim at our heart and minds with a rather sickening success
we see their technique and marvel at how the people arent listening to us as much as they need to
megalomania, messiah complex, schizophrenia give em to me all of them names you have in your book
the ones for the crazies, for the misfits, for the wrenches in your gears your machines, etc etc
free verse for slaves?<... |
Swords Swords for our guardians,
Shields for our people.
Keys for our locks,
Meals for our regal.
Artisan of avarice,
Cardinal of creed,
Bargain'd sins be hazardous,
Pardon all we read.
Embers burn within a hearth,
December winter nears,
I see the Hope we hold inside:
Greater than our fears.
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Freakshow See now, the phantom’s charred face!
Bemused by madness, marred disgrace!
Fingers curl’d in wrinkled fists!
Vengeance ‘furled from crinkling lips!
See how the monster falls apart-
Without a purpose, balls or heart-
He sinks in hatred, stinks of woe-
His stringy hairline, worthless toes.
I see no point in why he lives!
Ask Frankenstein even why he gives,
A minute of day to this horrid beast-
Sickly blight of war that feasts-
On plates of stares, hissing and grimaces-
On pools of phlegm, piss and scrimmages
A dark day comes when he will know,
What life is like living on the show,
For freaks as he are made for the part,
Of showing the world the mainfalls of art.
I see his dilemma, I feel his plight:
Why search for day, when born for night?
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