A Moral or Amoral Verse

“Your body’s a wound, you’re a raving madman.
This world is an arrow that impales you,
A ghost ship of what never was
falling towards the event horizon.”

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Disposal

bulging eyes, blue lips;
stupidity, DNA
all bleach’d away, just

for the shame of lesser blood
seeing your bloody O-face.

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Weird and disturbing.

9/10, would read again.

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Smile at this darkness
Starlight reflects off the moon
Lighting up your face

This might or might not be based on real events.

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With armor strong, and skin of gold,
I am through which the Word is told.

With thoughts of home, repentant mind,
I bring the truth to those I find.

With memories fresh, of faceless horde,
I walk my path back to the Lord.

With my kindred I have fought,
Through evil deeds, yet righteous thought.

With beams of glory, shining bright,
I shall bring them to God’s light.

With lips so bound and mind contrite,
I shall fly, and I shall fight.

My eyes drift to the endless sea,
As my ship turns to debris.

For in few moments, I will have died,
I thank the Heaven I denied.

With spots of white, on ink black sky,
I draw breath and prepare to die.

With structure breaking, flesh to burn,
I wake again, I will return.

old poem.

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Maybe an old poem, I dunno. But I still find it oddly calming and beautiful

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The tide goes out
The tide comes in
The shore –
The shore should remain

Come darkness
Come war
I am the candle
Fate should hold

Cliffs crumble in the waves
Flames die in the wind
Fate walks in twisted paths

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(Poor variation on classic themes. I apologize, I am not a poet. The originals are the sayings “The tide goes out, the tide comes in, the shore remains” and “Fate walks on twisted paths” and the warriors mantra

Come darkness
I am the candle in the hand of Fate

Come war
I am the weapon in the hand of Fate

Come death
I am a child, holding the hand of Fate)

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I ■■■■ her low,
I ■■■■ her high,
I ■■■■ her wet, I ■■■■ her dry,
And when she’s dead and long forgotten,
I will dig her up, and ■■■■ her rotten

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Forward March

Step forth to the parade ground call
Polished boots count the cadence beat
Soldier, woman, child – kill them all!
Glory to the dirt and its meat

Just like the mourning
Just like the merciful
Just like the meek

We are all
We are all
We are all

Doomed.

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A Million Exploding Suns, written by The General:

i’ve forgotten my name
i’m sick and weak and fresh from sleep
i crawl from a crooked bed
with dirty feet and shaky hands
the numbers on the clock read
one-one-four-oh ay em
i’ve got no time to clean myself
then sell my soul again
when i sleep i dream
i dream i am awake
or was it when i’m awake
i dream i’m asleep
i work i ■■■■ i eat i sleep
inspected by the number seven
this can’t be my life
no this isn’t me

i don’t know what beset this change
i barely recognize my own face
in my mind i know something’s not right
but in my heart i’m bathed in a golden liiiight
I’M BATHED IN GOLDEN LIGHT!
I’M BATHED IN A GOLDEN LIGHT

my eyelids still heavy, my pulse still faint
i’m puzzle pieces- my memory’s stained
i feel strength swell —a day dream
i’m shaking under this duality
--------- my pulse is still faint
i hear a strange voice but don’t know what it’s saying

… AND IN THIS MOMENT
seconds stop and i BURST with a clarity
a wealth of love and hate-- gone blank
for i finally remember MY ■■■■■■■ NAME!

I EAT ROCKS
AND I BREATHE WIND
I’VE BEEN AROUND THE CLUSTER
AND BACK AGAIN
lost the static
the grey is gone
i have the power of
A MILLION EXPLODING SUNS!!!@

I AM CONSUMED BY MY MIGHT
BLINDED IN LIGHT AS I WOULD BE IN NIGHT
THE VOID IS HOLDING ME TIGHT
IT DOESN’T FEEL RIGHT

When will I ever break FREE
Within or without I’m chained by the dream
THE VOID IS HOLDING ME TIGHT
IT DOESN’T FEEL RIGHT

When will I ever break FREE
Within or without I’m chained by the dream
The void and light are both me
IT DOESN’T FEEL RIGHT

now bright lights flood my eyes
it’s true
now I realise
the perilous truth
of a perilous life
by my own device
the strength of my high
is the strength of my low
unless there’s no me
they both
they both explode

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The Darkling beetle;

Oh Darkling beetle with spots so bright, why do you only come out at night,

You wander the Mojave Desert only at night, under the moonlight your spots shine like little gems at night, under the moon light.

Dear Darkling beetle your too beautiful to hide yourself from my sight, so why don’t you come out in the sun and let me enjoy your sight.

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redolence, recollection
dadaayaa fragrance
writhing lives, many
unwalked road

aimless exploration
dissuading jungles
guiding shadow, opaque
obstinate mountain

prudent illumination
towards aiguille
grabbing hands, yearning
unreached peak

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The Black Song’s Flight

Lost in the heavens
yet finding the way back home
unfamiliar
Down to earth, start the grounding
land at the summit temple

Grease the doors. Open!
Enter, inflexible still
low tongue to high ears
Many years listen patient
to whistling, out of tune, false

High tongue to full ears
notes sharp and deafening loud
questioning value
Discomposed, precipitous
scampering back to silence!

The curious soul
while mocking the Black Song’s flight
inquires the pace
“My optimum quality”
the bird’s rueful rejoinder

The monk decides to
task the songbird to race far
return exhausted
A conventional wisdom
the conventual’s notion

Wingless, the Black Song
runs five zeniths and five vales
over grievous grounds
The return is bittersweet
vigor now very vanished

With blisters bleeding
she crawls back to the abbot
who demands candor
The inflexible broken
whole truth vacating the cracks

After reposing
ears now clear, featherbrain void
yet vim repossessed
Hurts cared, nevertheless hurt
serving as a reminder

Four masters sharing
with open hands, mouth and mind
tea, light, words and swords
Grateful Black Song flits to sky
now singing harmonious

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The ferryman grumbles
as beacons light up
and thousands of stranded souls
form ranks at the pier

No destination is too far
no journey is too long
yet the mundaneness of mortality
tests the patience of eternity

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Naa naamaa shadaand netirhanyl hapalca nenaarayavtun
Vashka uuhdyaravant huuniahd paheyk nekriitakol
Sodahrda pasodanc nebeklaandphis
Jaakrota panucyl neshahoraalyl
Vyiiba prayomaan illoren, cahet juhambhaata
Ahm kamai tah
Ahm asumi tah
Duryna shadaand

Death does not respect the powerful or the rich,
By his deeds a man is known;
Wrath kills the foolish.
Anger ends in cruelty.
To be reborn you must first die;
I love you,
I hate you,
Death is home.

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Entropy is the measure of what we do not know,
physics tells us unavoidably it must grow.
Of that which moves large and wide the notion
gets forever lost to microscopic motion.

No matter how we try,
as the years go by,
no soul escapes that law
sending us to a grave cold and raw.

Entropy depends on the spectator,
there is not unique chosen dictator,
Anyone by looking at the picture
reduces a pure quantum state to their own mixture.

As lack of knowledge is bound to grow ,
to absolute Truth this is a blow
from which it cannot recover,
and so this “Thuth” we’ll never discover.

Of this there is a clear symptom
familiar to all with a shred of wisdom:
All can speak the truth honest as a pup
but still the stories don’t have to line up!

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Fleeting warmth, biting cold;
'Tis with a heart of gold that I grow old.

But gold, though lining Imperial walls and coffers,
weighs heavy on one soul.

To know faith is to know the human from the not,
and human as we all are, all tied in serpent’s knot;

We crave to brave, to gaze, to lust
Yet made are we from frivolous crust.

As capsuleers flee from one system, another, the next;
we leave behind but astral specks.

Fleeting, biting;
temporary.

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