War of Spiritual Forces

The good and the bad,
walk hand in hand
whilst we create our idols
the lords dine over, amongst entertaining souls
rulers of the past, the future collide
with arm’s, they are ready for war.
Try and win over, deprive
of different paths, and different laws.
The present are but mere blind men
walking towards what they perceive as heaven or hell
locked up inside, a minds den
they walk endlessly, away from the spirituality of Zen.
The white and dark have shared their prophecies
right and wrong, and all their stories
what they simply forgot to share
that they are all, one in the same.
See again, for our idols have same faces
they come from all the same races
that belong to the one, one who beholds
existence of mere life, and stories untold.

Believe

Music not inspired, is not music to the ears
a passage not passionate, is a passage not of worth
ingredients that are all around, everywhere found
form the basis, which appeals to the heart.

Capturing the soul’s inquisitiveness,
a strange tendency to know it all
humble in its justification,
to conquer the universe

hear yourself cry and call out inside
follow what it says, trust its integrity
stupidity despite, think not of the consequences
think of the matter in its simplicity.

Wes Wilson

The brain, in its psychedelia.
An euphoric state of presence
mystics and realism all present
detail and colour always of high essence

All posses, the quality of seeing truth
some just aren’t ready
some are scared, to see the matter
some just simply retreat.

When one is, he reaches out
caressing its humbleness it accepts and begins
forgiven over for all his sins
he is ready, to again win.

When vision around is hazy
the minutest of spec, is clear,
its existence and meaning all make sense
confide now in one self’s, wholesome gain.

Wes Wilson was a man as ordinary
he dared, to crack the nut wide open
he did so with emphatic style
he reached to where he belonged, he found happiness again.

Enter Darkness

A Streak of Light, Somewhere In My Mind
A Patch of Dark Clouds, the Moon’s light entwined
The Shadow of Soul, Shining Through
You Stand and Wonder, Whether Life is Lead by fools
Was it not god that made this soul
Why is the end then, always so cold
What finishes must start, must finish again
To mingle in our minds, our actions, repent
The soldier is brave. He fights on alone
Replenishing all that we have lost, that is forever gone.
Heart beat races like an injection of steroid
The numbness spreads,we feel no pain
Yet there is the lonely traveler, standing beside me.
She holds my hand and guides me
The other side is dark.