Insanity

Parts of my life, fragment slowly in front of my eyes.
No longer searching meaning, from any greater profound;
Simply engaged in pleasure, without any flint of regret.
Happy with all ever received, indulging in self conceive.
Reassured by the voice in the back.
Unsure of what lay ahead.
But matters, not much for all within a reach.
Only destiny, flirting at the tip.
Tantalizingly close, yet a centimeter apart
With non what so ever regard.
Instilling fate in greed, not quite.
Best left untouched, a virgin from mortal hands.
Links are created, only if seen differently.
Then all can be perceived appreciate fully.

Satan In Glory

I am god, I am freedom
I am all that is pure and untrue
I am glory and all religion.
I control the stirs
the bibles, the Korans, the Gita’s
I invented Christ, Mohammed and Durga
I control destiny, and all that lies ahead
I know your paths, and can turn it in a moment
I am gracious, and I am profound
I am, what beauty is
I can fly, like the birds or the ravens
I can be good, and I can be bad.
I could be a saint, or choose to be the devil
I have wings, better than any fowls
I have brains, better than any man’s
I am Satan in glory and I am happy
I am in you.

die nummer der bestie ist sechs sechs sechs.

The sprite sits above thee lord
as if a reporter, the other kneels below
“To the way of end, Shall you guide”
he asks with a infamy in his tone
Crisis’s of the heavens
emerged as the researchers
of perfectionist that arrive, to see this place
we are too many in number,
From his priestly position he budges
as if the mighty problem solver would
“I have made Achilles, and I have been Peleus
brought conflicting interest for the world to scorn”
They have lived petty lives to reach,
this place of strife we embower
with garlands you have decorated
this land of farce

When in a mess you have called upon thee,
to save and spread the world with malevolence
You have seen the German’s rise, from painters
to messengers of my word, of good.
And you gave them hope, to adopt
a life as clear as the crystal decorated at your base
and now you ring the number
many times over, till you know
clear in your head and heart and soul,
sechs,sechs,sechs

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.