In the Shadow of Man

Complexion in the Early colors' rift,
Burning, arid climax of the present
Hangings; divided by their Numbered Lift,
That by being, created their presence—

The lamb lies calm before the parting stream,
O’er the mead by the thunder ascending,
Thou made Thee of Thine owns temporal scheme,
By that ember now coldly descending—

Is it not by this Sum weave arrived;
Divulging the illusion into being,
Relating the Myth our Shade contrived,
To cure Us from Its irresponsible-sting?

They've taken us away to come of Age,
Severing our Pistil-bonds and haven,
Introducing foul, the toxic pollen Rage;
Dwarfed the Lovers to suckle the Stamen,

We've the Circles of nobler critique;
The Snake to a Rabbit's finer mergence,
And We draw of our mean's antiquity
Within the drift of those Ancient currents;

The tinge of obscurity shaded White—
An ebb and flow of Plastic existence—
Pines the dirty creatures and dingy Night
In their inability for persistence.

The sword that didst cleave Lust from Love,
Smote in twine, the clay-mold: Mother from Child;
Didst stain cheap its Manhood reeling Above,
Castrating all of the Beasts in the Wild!

What is the essence and greatness of God;
Or the vastness and grandeur of Its brand?
What’s the Nature and splendor of a God
But a fraction in the shadow of a Man…

This World In Reality

This world in reality is a soft kind of beat;

It gives us a pretense and confines defeat,

And we're all living with crazies; the Crazies like Me!

From nothing to zero, you satirize the fool,

From infant to Hero; The Myth is your tool--

It sounds like chatter just include talking too,

This world is a place where Hate does persist,

Enchanting the view where only Love should exist,

You've fallen like Clowns from Smile to the grifts...

It's a beatnik agenda no one can save

Being in Costume, aghast, no stand can shake,

You've taken the leaf 'fore Spring turned it's fate

This World in Reality, is a soft kind of beat,

Guiding the Tempo, it'll take all you Reap

Until you're old, and broken, with no time to sleep...

This World in Reality is a soft kind of beat,

This World in Reality is a cruel place to be;

This World in Reality is a soft kind of beat.