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1. |
No One Wants It
06:03
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You cannot push it off
On anyone.
Nails with rust cover the grass
Before mud becomes water.
Cross the rust colored lake
To find your
Sanctuary
On the other side.
The pine - covered hills
Now black - with tar,
Forever - in ruin.
Once this - was a place
Of beauty, - now a shell
Of It’s - former self.
Tribes roamed
Her country side
For millennia.
The time has dawned
For a new man
To take your place.
A man of peace,
Love and understanding.
Bend your mind, claim your sovereignty
From your oppressors. Your own master
Is all you were ever meant to be.
To them you are disposable,
To me you are irreplaceable.
A shock this must be
To hear, but it needs
To be said. Now to proceed
On to the progress
Of a new dawn.
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2. |
What Color Am I?
05:25
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In divinity you can relax,
Know that you are eternal.
Turn to the light and breathe
In your fate from the past.
When the dark signals reach us,
All life will be exhaled in a fiery blaze.
Exactly what will happen
Is unknown to them.
Existential questions - unanswered from beyond.
Where do the roots - run and why!?
Only in disgust will you see - your failures of creation.
Some cosmic offering - to be willed
Into suffering - at your will.
Time to witness
The glorious
Conclusion.
A reflection of
A snake eating
Itself from beyond.
An infinite loop of - sick jokes and shit
Lives on inside - this picture of a picture.
Bells and metal clash - together to signify
The beginning and ending - of an abomination.
Far more questions
To be answered.
I have just one
Question
At the moment.
What color are we?
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3. |
Svarog
07:35
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White light enters a prism
From armor it is cast,
Though what comes out
Is anything but white.
Red light in the form of blood
And gore pour from it.
A horror to behold once more,
Blinded by confusion
In this otherwise shadow world.
Orange light from a wound,
Pours down from ceiling holes,
To quench the thirst
Of the dead - below it.
Dissecting - parts reveals
The yellow light - that comes after.
Bile and puss - make up
What comes out. - a fountain of
Infection to bring - about the cleansing end.
The next light revealed
From the mouth is a green one,
It’s shade is reminiscent
Of the infection of light past.
Further through the prism we are
At the point of no escape.
The sun is surely behind us
As we view the blue rain in the distance.
This light will bring water
Dripping from tiles,
And blood coursing
Through veins.
At the dawn - of the indigo
Morning we - are brought to
Violet - tears weeping.
The end of the light
Has come and gone
And for now all is still.
Our feet carry us down
This path to whatever
Waits for us,
No matter the outcome.
We are slaves by design
And the lights keep us moving.
Ever toward the
Illumination of the colors
That once filled us.
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4. |
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From streams of blood
I pour my soul.
Sprouting wings to view
All I have done
From afar.
This can’t be all,
There has to be more….
The carcasses of
Their lies gather
Under wilting trees.
The guns that shot them down
Now shoot at sand storms
In autumn.
To think there
Might have been more,
But there isn’t.
Let it be known
That on this day
We fought with
Our bodies and minds.
Now we wait for our feathers
To return us to the skies.
This is a time to fly high,
A time to be birds.
Above the rocks and in the clouds,
Beaks beckon to us,
Yet we have fastened
The chains to our own ankles.
Acid burns it all away,
And to the sky the birds take.
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5. |
Book III Page V
07:04
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Hair pulled at
The roots to
Make your spine,
Gouge deeper
‘Til the horns
Play long.
A song
Of wind
Makes
Tall grass bow,
Moving
Dust through
Wet
Starved plains.
The meeting
Of all
In identity of the ones - that were lost,
The river will - take you home.
Covered
In mud
Your
Vessel awaits,
Your
Celestial
Mind
Can bring you peace.
From your
Laughter
We both will
Read it’s wooden
Pages from here
Until time’s end.
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6. |
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A breeze carries her voice
Through the keyhole.
The harsh sound of
Abuse calls my name,
Says it will make me whole.
The door has closed for good,
Opened for bad, closed far worse.
Dust flies over head
In the closets
Of the bed rooms
Of my nightmares.
A high pitch
Of the hinges forever droning
In August heat,
Whoa!
Windows sealed, beds made,
Scanning eyes look on.
Crushing pain still grips me,
Still grips me I said.
Under the sun I wonder
How I will turn out.
Once I leave here,
I will be nothing but a memory.
Something that once existed
Through the keyhole.
When my hands are full
My sorrow will spill over.
My complications collapse in the holes on the road.
I will dig my nails in the dirt to get over the dog prison and out of here.
These plaster walls can’t hold me forever.
Sleep is sweat filled while bruises heal to make way for many more.
My broken heart carries so much weight.
My broken heart has healed on the surface
But grows cold once more
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Battersea Indianapolis, Indiana
Death-doom, post-metal, sludge weirdos from the midwest
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