The maker will send me to an eternal end.
Memories of many yesterdays will still lend,
a chance to find a new beginning.
A chance to die in solace binding.
To be alone is to be silent, to be silent is to be peaceful, to be peaceful is to be free, to be free is to live, to live is to grow old and pass away with love in your heart.
People come and go, some never leave,
big people, short people and some named Steve.
You can like them, you can love them, you can even drink beers,
you can praise them, you can pray to them, sometimes weeping tears.
A quatrain for Steve, r.i.p.†
In nomine patris et filii et spiritus sancti.
He put a star in the sky, for you;
they followed that star, for you;
they carried three gifts, for you;
the King of Kings is born, He’s you.
It is an honour to write expressions, with you.
My King of Kings and Lord is you.
I pray in humility, yes to you,
a most honourable Amen, so yes, it’s you.
“The swollen feet of a man on his deathbed,
a gothic tone of something that he once said,
a broken heart delivered by his big head,
a life that he claims he never ever could have read.”
INSET (#value) add NUMSET(-0, +1) (sad=0, happy=1)
#value =”Emotional Response”
FREQ(‘0’) NULL; KILL;
This was found carved on a cave wall from the year 12000 B.C. Do you believe that?
This body will always truly cocoon,
A frightful thought for some, too soon?
Frightful to those who can’t accept.
The atom lingers, intercept.
As some would call it snotty,
to believe in such a body.
The wings of a star will surely bloom,
a being it may, my lonely tomb.
This womb of young happy life,
the universe I’ve cured into a wife.
Lonely, yet subtle within this tune,
this body will always truly cocoon.
I’ve made it so from foe to crow,
your heightened senses do not know,
the hurt and dirt in which we’ll pry
open, in, our wings will fly.
Have you been believing, Sir?
What I have learned is true, is pure.
What I have learned is faithfully this,
that what I’ve conjured is true, true bliss.
No ignorance here it’s right, it’s right!
To believe in me, to believe in sight.
Lovely, yet humble within this wound
This body will always truly cocoon.
A particle generator for your mind.
One more spec to be kind.
Idealistic structure and pattern,
make me a prized shiny lantern.
Such a heavy and callus generation,
in hopes of a pure and true legislation.
My body is my temple, my heart is my engine.
My feet walk miles while my lips speak revenge in,
truthful bitter words for many weakened puns,
born within wolves, so much hurt, tons.
We’re almost there, I can feel it in the air,
I can feel it in my hair, many onlookers stare.
A beautiful temple I have created with growth
Providence, to you and to you your given oath.
Divinely insane your intervention creeps.
Insanely prophetic my sunken willow weeps.
Weep to the heavens, your science driven steaks.
Amplifying love, your quiet level breaks.
Oh’ fifth horseman, a fifth to be a chord.
Oh’ fifth horseman, be true to your sword.
Your sword be a pen, men within men
again and again, your sword be a pen.
(Subject) Grass, as a fur.
To our great mother Earth.
You know how animals get bugs and sometimes lose their fur? Get’s me thinking… Longest piggy back ride ever wouldn’t you say? Quite a sacrifice you’ve made. We love you Mom. Like a baby chimp clinging to her parental unit.
Thank you Mom!
Truly, faithfully yours
A little human bug.
You made a light so beautiful, it came to you! How many wishing wells must a man make for brighter sounds, deeper hearts and a slander in his voice to prove wealth in his health? Continue reading “Sewbra Deity Brothers.”