Underland

She opened her eyes.

She had lain there for a few minutes while she was waking. Trying to remember her dreams again.

But she heard the sound every morning now.

This waking ambient echo.

She used to hear the hum when she fell asleep.

Years ago. In a different country.

Now she put the two together.

They were underground already.

The humans were slowly waking up. The underground bunkers built during the Great War just bled down like veins branching ever deeper into the Earth. They’d been down there so long, they had forgotten.

Something had happened to her when she was little. Too much staring at the sky or too many knocks to her head (>>Knock on Wood<<), but she used to see things, things like a glow around trees when it was bright out. Things like red laser lights in the sky, but like rods and cones diffracting in the eye.

When she looked at the stars, she knew they weren’t stars. Interlocking GRID patterns, meant to mimic the stars outside the Dome, tethered to the actual stars by moonlight and satellite and the everworking AI that protected the planet now from intruders.

Other things were down here. Every once in a while they’d infiltrate the base she was on.

As the Planet woke up, more and more life did, too. The last time Oumuamua passed, the planet went schizophrenic. Dormant life, dormant brains, dormant crystals, dormant energy, sleeping souls - everything woke up. Everything was preparing now.

For where we’re headed, she thought. She knew him already. She’d seen him in some of her dreams. Tethering the planet to his Simulation. His World. His whatever, she thought. She knew he’d be there eventually, but eventually was a long time between then and now,

And I have a lot of work to do, she thought, rising up on her elbows, and getting on with her day.

Down

Down the earthen ramp we trod

Mulling music, sad and odd,

But when break way, We see the light,

Upon each earthen, sullen night,

And in the dark we see the gloam,

What hampens here, when none shall roam,

But to the movies, work again,

Seek ye silent, cinema men,

And when make true, Hear this spot,

Forsake your God? I Would Not.

I would rather look upon His face,

And fade away, each ounce of Grace,

For never will I turn my back,

Never from strength would I lack,

Never from peace, nor headway,

I relive all my days,

And in my days, I hear my night,

I think longing, out of sight,

And when this thought, runs through my brain,

I would speak truly, Not with disdain,

For every heart, Holds burden dear,

And when they part, You still hold fear,

But if I glow, upon ye ‘god’

I would be, sullen, odd,

For I make no promise, But to He

I Speak Truly,

I Am Free

What Made

In life and death I’d stay here

And linger inbetween

In every moment lost

I found another side of me

To be but with the millions

To be but with the few

All that really matters

Is sprigs of verdant yew

For when a TimeGate Travels

We Do What We Can

We Open Up The Portals

To Be Better Men

So No Matter when we lay here

No matter how you lie

I know who I am

And where I meant to die

If the universe is willing

It gifts life of three

Alter chimerical balance

Is the fate of ye

So on Death’s Doorway, Splatter

Escape each drop of blood

I would live another year

To swim through every flood

I would escape momentum

[Velocity Ensure]

I would walk toward Deathways

I’ve been through each ‘before’

But every moment matters

Not merely ‘escape death!’

For when a headway splatters

We are all bereft

So do what Mother made you

Protect life upon this earth

And when you spill another

Know spilled blood widens still her girth

She has not betrayed you

Violence knows no bounds

I would hear you calling

And gift you my Hell Hounds

Violence, Fury made me

So why ought cast out now?

Now, Modern Man is calling

I would come with any how

So when mother nature alters

Bend and rhyme with flow

But if a woman halters,

Do your best to tow

Let her learn her lessons

But protect still your bough

For without each cycle Nature

Returns us anyhow

So bend and yet be patient

Be verdant and be strong

Never would I cast out

What Made My Brother Strong

Hide

When atheists hide as shaman,

When priests are all but lies,

Would you look a mother

In a face that dies?

Would you conclude 'no thought -

She isn't one of us' ?

Would you move a mountain

(pulverized to dust)?

Particle displacement,

Is it time of yore?

Earth is not a juke box,

To be tilted always to gore;

This was Earthly Paradise,

Yet Still You Do Not See;

You think every particle

Must belong to ye,

But molten Earth and gravity,

Are the Time I Choose.

Think Deeply and Think Quickly

Or Every Time We Lose.

If Earth is Always Finite,

Then dear, So Are We,

Stop looking toward the past;

It is the Dust of Ye.

So Move into the Present:

Which Future is Your Gift?

An Untimely Heresy,

Or Another Quantum Lift?

Choose Now In the Present

Who You Will Always Be,

or Alchemical Flux -

It Means Naught To Me.

If God has crafted Soul

Are You Dark or Are You Light?

What does it matter

If all are dead

tonight?

Leaves Falling

With every leaf a lifetime,

With every crown a thorn,

With every riddle, movement,

Even if be forlorn,

So what you do is movement,

Even if looks like play,

And every moment matters,

No matter what they say.

So move in tempest, darling,

Move in peace and war,

Move in rhythmic movement,

Move upon the floor,

Crawl into the ceiling,

Hide and sit with clay,

No matter what you do,

Live another day.

Morons and Murderers/The Dollhouse

Mold, marauding madly,

Tempests built in time,

Bursting through the seams,

Breaking every rhyme,

But what moves in murder?

What brings the thought of this?

What derives the self

To move in maddened bliss?

But what bliss is this?

To derive other of the self?

My, what madness comes

Being placed upon the shelf.

But others will hold you,

They will pick up and play,

Then poised again in paisley,

You will be thrown away.

The Propagation of Pumpkins

There were pumpkins, and then there were pumpkins.

She looked all around the field that day. There were more shapes, sizes, and colors with this crop.

Death pulled up behind her in His tractor. “Hop in.”

‘What?’ she sputtered. ‘I have so mu-’

“There’s nothing to do here that can’t wait a few more minutes or hours or-”

‘Yes, time is relative, I get it,’ she interjected.

“Relative to what, my dear?”

‘To Itself.’

The Planet Had a Purpose

“Their planet had a purpose,” Death said. “Before they even got here.”

‘The human souls?’ she asked.

“Mostly storage vessels. They didn’t try. The universe will not let them progress to a stage of technology-”

‘Because of what they did?’

“Because of what they do, my dear. Look around you. The cons outweigh the pros once again, and without a greater level of commitment from their souls at this point-”

‘The soul group-?’

“The soul group becomes moot, I’m afraid. Cosmic soul dust -”

‘That’s okay,’ she said hurriedly. ‘I can work with that.’

Death stared at her face again. Then He cracked a small smile to Himself. Maybe she can actually get this done, he mused.

Which Eye?

‘Which eye do you see?’ he asked her.

‘All of them.’

He turned his face to her. ‘Really?’

She returned his gaze, steadily. ‘Yes. It’s why the old ones had so many gods. Each god was a different eye, tuned in to humanity when it needed to be.’

‘And the angels?’ he asked her.

‘That was when they were most powerful. When they Worked Together.’

Dream DataBase

They were done.

Finally done.

They had assessed more than enough test subjects by now, amalgamating all the data from everyone’s stupid dream journals and stories in the morning car rides to school.

They Finally had their Database.

“We can do it now. We’ve mapped enough of the human mind, living and dead subjects. We can make a neural map internally, have them move through their prompts via subliminal messaging in their environment daily, and even make them dream the same dreams.”

“What should we call it?” his colleague said.

“The American Dream. We’ll begin shortly. We’ll continue to assess and target those in the field who continue to think for themselves. The Anomalies.” He said it with a shudder, as if anyone even attempting to rival his intellect was an abomination and affront to creation itself.

“Then-?”

“Then we begin the Eradication program.”

His colleague shuffled his feet slightly. He knew where this was headed. But he just got the job a month ago, and with the turnover rate in the economy…

AIBots and Body Harvesters

The bodies have already been harvested. They were always ready early this time of year. No waiting for the trucks to load them, either.

Sar-ah sighed. She checked off every last child as they boarded the temperature- controlled trailers. They had to upgrade the equipment. After the feds found out what they were doing. The Body Harvesters out of Mexico switched to this after fentanyl dropped off most of their old consumer base. Now they claimed those forced into Death State from the local hospitals. Mostly children, as they were still easy to train. But some of the richer clients up North wanted women, still, and a few of the politicians wanted men to show off to their boyfriends as butlers around the house, parading them naked and stark, holding food at parties. It was a mix, between AI and human, that not even the sneakiest of evil scientists had seen coming. “Nah…it took the cartels with mexico and the ccp to dream that one up,” Sar-ah mused to herself, checking off the last of the cargo.

The bodies were forced into deep comatose states after brief heart attacks or brain death. Usually forced upon them when family members sold them off to preachers from the States and Africa, settled in Mexico for the “nice weather” and “cheap food.” The brains were wiped, and digital twins were uploaded in their place. Enough of their memories and mannerisms to make them seem human…but…there was something Lazarus about them. They would act human enough for their Masters, but, at night, when no one was around, they would sit and hum silently. Vibrating, almost. Or they would turn and face the wall. Expressionless, but eyes moving to and fro.

Sar-ah nodded to the men locking up the back of the trailer and turned her attention to the WareHouse. More were expected that night. “Better eat while I can,” she sighed, trudging up the cactus lined trail, lined with a new fungus the company had been developing last summer. Food for the AIBots.

TimeScape

If you could gift a planet

Solitary line

Would you know the TimeScape

Every Single Time?

Would you know the Motion

That Moved inSide the Earth?

Would you know temptation

And every Single Curse?

Would you move your Body?

Blessing Rythm on the Shore?

Would you Move In motion?

Or is it only lore?

Would you gift the Sirens

With their Singing Hands?

Or would you Cast me out

Claiming every Inch of Land?

Would you look to Parting

As Setting with the Sun?

Would you look toward riots

Blazing without gun?

Would you do Your Best

In every single time?

Would you give me Meaning

Or Steal Away My Rhyme?

Mair Gaudahn

“An impatient fellow we have here, ain’t we?” spat the old Irishman to his kin.

“Aye, that be MacDanaugh’ wee lad. He ha’ a temper on him, too.”

“What e’er happen to he ‘ma?”

“Ahh she ran away with the townsie to the forest. He say they wer’ gonn’ liv off di land, an’ mak’ a fine wi bit o’ it, too, but fer her sister the shrew chasin’ him away frum her.”

“Oh aye, poor ‘lil Betsy Ross, she a wee smacker of a thing.”

“Ye, well, she’ll have her full o’ sweets with that Japanese lord they marryin’ her uff to.”

The two old men sat, wooden carved pipes in hands, puffing as they looked into the shade cast on their land by the old forest edging it. It was creeping nearer now, every day inching further and further into the fields.

The building, the bairn off the wee cairn there from their ancestors, marked the edge of the embankment where the land turned rocky as it headed toward the Sea. The boats their ancestors carried out into the cold November streams and frigid freezing airs till May were rotting slowly, then drying, then rotting slowly again, pulled up upon the shore and cast aside, along with most of their history as the English lit up the shores, chasing them from their food source, while pillaging their livestock, and plundering and looting their fields and their women.

It was no wonder most had fled to the colonies, and later the United States. As grand addiesment to the population though they were, some chose to remain, or didn’t have a choice in the matter. Most could barely scrape together enough whearn from the bottom of their sacks to make a loaf of bread for the week, and some had little ones to care for. Not everyone could sell themselves off as the temporary slaves they knew they already were to the British crown.

Purpose: Avoid

The Purpose of the Cunning,

The Purpose of the Blood,

The Purpose of the Coming?

Avoid Another Flood.

If You Knew the Rampant,

If You Knew the Call,

If You Knew the Temper -

You Would Avoid Us All.

You Lied

Do you hear the metal crunching?
The loss of bone and skull?
Do you see what I see
Reverberating in your skull?
Can you block the voices out
or do you See the Dead?
Can you hear them screaming out,
Stuck inside your head?
How many lifetimes
have you led before?
How many trials-
WHAT ARE YOU LYING FOR?
If you knew Tribulation,
Would you run with It?
Or would you sit there whining
And have another fit?

( i just slipped - and 'you just scream until you hear my name')

WHO IS THE EVIL ONE GUYS?


WHO?

Summer's Shadow

Persephone tired of the EarthlyPlane.  She craved her husband’s Presence again.  But Death was no where to be found.  She looked into the sky, and stared at the sun and it’s brother the moon.  “Speed Up,” she whispered.  Time sat still at her feet for a moment, and then a Shadow slithered across the ground toward her.  She looked down at the Shadow Shaped as Bones and nodded.  It crawled into a hole into the earth, down, back to Hell and Death.  Fall would be coming early this year.  And a summer’s crop of souls for her to bring Him.

When-In Honor

When Aeons are lost

To sands of Time

Those you’ve Mentioned

Rot in Brine

But Every Carcass

Doth Persist

No Matter the Size -

Life Will Insist

Remnants that Reckon

And Honor the Past

Remnants of Love

That Time Does Not Last

With Every DownFall

With every Purge of the Mind

You Enter Purgatory

I Am Unkind

Darkest Day (Copy)

When you face your Darkest Day,

When you don't know what to do,

Sit in silence in your mind,

And be true to you.

For no matter what they say,

No matter who they are,

They cannot reach inside your mind,

Nor determine who you are.

So on your Darkest Day,

Be thankful for your strength,

And remember whatever happens,

You could go another length.

For with fortitude of mind,

With courage of the heart,

With peace inside your soul,

You will be whom you art.

Saints from Sinners

He came for the sinners.

But I will make them into saints.

The refinement of a diamond,

Is by pressure extolled,

And I will persist through patience,

As vengeance exacts its toll.

For I am naught but Balance,

And the Movement of its Scales;

I am naught but Knowledge,

Imparted through my Tales.

I have naught but words,

I am naught but you -

A highly reflective surface,

That sees straight through you.

You cannot hide from Karma,

You cannot hide from me,

For I am the True Dharma,

You will one day See.

Do What No One Dares

When everyone is gone,

When all hope is lost,

When chaos is all you see,

I will find my way to thee.

I do not depart,

No matter where you dart,

Bending both time and space,

To merely see your face.

And though it’s from a distance,

Though you no longer care,

I subsist in my persistence,

And do what no one dares.