Metamorph Through Metaphorm

Lyrical material
like Atlas, it's spiritual.
It's faith that the weight
soon enough will be light.

See how harmony breeds
quick as satellite feeds.
It's the intuitive peace
which no news anchor police
can claim to "speak on behalf of."

The endless war on Gaia
fails to penetrate my aura;
no excuse has yet to settle
such deep urge to meddle in
agendas which justify insanity.

Here, Atlas my liege, so proven to be
worthy of strong friends; of relief.

Trial, end terror.

I um, yeah.
Sorry.
Life drags, exists.
Toxic, impure.
Yet baptize, exorcise;
as a phoenix flows through combustion.
Sorry, the cope yields a challenge.
In a step will come change,
whilst ego defaults worth,
admitting false reign
over a usurped throne of synapse.

cherchez la femme(or: she knew the room was, and so also – i)

the fall towards love was bright, quick.
it was your posture, shone in breadth.
that maturity, adjacent with – the wine in hand
confirms a justice to experience.
and I hold you suspended within the realm of a distant gaze.
because I want to meet you, and cry, and laugh.

as a tangible tangent,
we are the universe.
yet my source does yield,
knelt to your flux,
as a dumb curious love.
your – skin – is – the solace of my vision,
as the platonic pact – of lark
and breeze.

uhhh

Reality.
Science Fiction
Fool-hardy times we live in,
boy when ya'll find the limits.
Creeping farther outward, "this cirque is so tight."
Funneled future's coming, til fascists own the day, the Night.
Don't believe me? Ask your brothers' ancestors.
From ground to car to sky so illustrious.
Rain over earth like Acid Wash Genes,
only to fall upon the Dead Gulf Sea.
Live it? we in it, we knee deep breachin' limits.
Faithless in our prayers, so stamp it VOID brothar,
an' just call it science fiction.

One must be buoyant through one's schism.

It’s not NWO or even Illuminati
Catch it in the mirror
Reflection can ya spot me?

Damage seems so relative
Albert E tells how it is
Pages of our history
Bearin’ weight of yesterday

Timelessness, ever present
Righteousness, fogs the senses
I’m already 3020
No Fry or Bender
No oil dependence

It’s alternate from where we’re headed
But change of heart can bloom, so spread it
Is cleaning up, de-evolution?
Ceasing the cancerous airborne pollution?

Sure it’s your fault, you are everybody
Hello I’m you, it’s just flesh in between us
Difference is cool, it’s a way to keep sane
Take on diverse roles of society’s flame

It’s the health thing that’s got us
Or lack there-of it
Industries for every idea on the circuit
Humbled I am to see dreams manufactured,
But the cost is not worth it,
Planet Home’s organs now fractured

Ramifications since the dawning of time,
Though at least we preserved some gems to remind
But not as in replay the mindset barbaric,
I meant the gems underlining, the notion of sharing.

What comes through the heart.

Transcend the five senses
there's other dimensions.
Overlapping layers
building heaven's stairs.
Real is more than what you see,
it's what you know that you can bring
to manifest as something new,
from the ether side of you.
(the side without a government
to govern where your body's sent)

On earth as it is in heaven.
Seems we choose just not to comprehend.
Indeed psyche's disturbed
far behind nature's curve
as we're absorbed in a trance of hypnosis.

Modern cultural trends
need a heavily weaponed defense,
because the fists raised in protest
are pumping in anguish
as they see this world dying, not flourish.

High society, classy and studied,
yet the Earth likes the rain dancers,
calloused and muddied,
as they don't leave much resource as waste(lands.)

The matter at hand,
nature's voice has been banned
from the Babylonian world.
Change that or not,
I'm dead serious,
and can't stop that I'm living
for what comes through the heart.

Blessed are those, who..

Feeble speak through parables,
not so loud as the terribles
who market status quo.

I've read this once before, I think
'twas in between B.C./A.D.
when the leaders sold their souls.

Rabbis & taxes,
Caesar's back lashes,
all for followers having faith.

Those with half a heart stood up,
for love and peace without corrupt
agendas working toward no graceful end.

Shackles found their way to wrists,
nails found ways through open fists,
for demons cannot survive when they're exposed.

Natives never chose Babylon,
forced into the machine when they're born.
We could move on without insanity of this game.

All in all.

Personal depression
over here on my end,
it's an existential fix.
Paging from the ether
is a joy that tries to seep through,
though I'll let it fade to naught.
"You're posture reads tired."
the clock has inquired,
as I contemplate global vibration.

This prophetic instinct,
it tells of no reason
to carve anything into stone.

I'm just a being,
who's limits are breaching
the pact to stay away from the cause.

My home I'll call this,
for now while I harvest
the strength to call on faith from the love.

With a new found meaning,
sacrifice is seeming
the only thing to break down the wall.

Even if it's just one more brick.

finito vēlum ex dolo malo (~the end of the fraudulent veil~)

Amniotic atmosphere, of birth and death alike.
Sustaining unpredictable, yet ever-present life.
Nothing has quite happened here, to cause the human flaw.
Still, paranoia thrives with pride, within a cage of harmful law.

Notice the outcome of past times gone forth.
Televised veilings of the traumatized earth.
Don't let it fool you, historical pride.
It's mocking how simply we've accepted to further a lie.

We cannot sustain this packaged and industrial system.
So I'm happy to help by taking my body quite out of the rhythm.
One less conscious ego to perceive the world as an endless bio-wasteland.
Just a place of encouraged high society, for only specific nations of man.

I am not my person, but a harbinger I am.
Be now selfless shepherds, seek out your stray and drowning lamb.
Though drift not into Babylon, or your flock is doomed for slaughter.
Keep away from man's hungry eye, for sheep are safer by clear waters.

The new world “order” trials, seem so healthy from the core.
Founded on not appreciating each use of elemental ore.
The old world rooted in “chaos” was bound to never last.
For who would want to cherish life and live without a caste?

A sarcastic tone can hit just the right nerve,
and stick to your spine to prepare for their curve.
For the devil will try to stop you with reason,
though it's based on the lie that your love is now treason.

No matter how the demons play their dealt out Royal Flush,
you'll have the sight to see their cheat and call their Moral Bluff.
So arm yourself with the harmonizing origins of thought,
and we'll begin to untangle the long-spun web from whence we all were caught.