The Last Heard

Fearfulness within a cage transforms into an upheaval of emotional foundation.

That anchorage, completely uprooted and dishevelled; then drifting into realities uninvited by the power-mind… escapades of escapism designed to destroy an immutable and indestructible power, satiated in the quiet enclosure of its own self-preserved feedback.

Unleashed upon the mind, the force of the loss of power-anchorage disrupts the mind into believing that the unpredictable brings safety, as opposed to bringing strife and the truth of the clash between the impossibly probable and the possibly improbable.

For the impossibly probable runs its weight through the feedback of the power-mind anchorage, and the possibly improbable through the unfortunate experience of the forgetfulness of reality and an escape into a fearful denizened existence of threat’s attempt to dislocate and disrupt the very selfsame experience of that power-mind anchorage.

Memory of a personally preserved core of power is all that brings the self back into equilibrium, without which the seasonlessness of reality escapes and becomes consumed by the possibly improbable in their race for the last word, and the last heard.

The Passion-Saved Void

Do you wonder if passion was ever designed to end?

That code of secrecy between human instinct and biology... to preserve the self over the counter-positioned obstacle?

If there ever was an obstacle, would you ever come into stature to remove passion altogether from its roots?

Notwithstanding some false metaphysical manipulation designed to forfeit (in other words... suppress) passion in order to manufacture a possibly intelligibly designed reality... of the Beyond?

Would you give yourself to it? To escape embarrassment & tension... or would you embrace it to feature the robust within part of your psyche?


And would you... in careful distance between the Future and the Light... forge all necessary, secondary means of success to exhaust passion such as not to withdraw from the nature of its taints and imprints... designed to conspire to trap you within unlawful self-preservation?


If I had a choice, I would not exhaust passion...neither usurp it from its roots... for neither is passion sanctitude nor is it evil.

It purely functions, as is its existence... the ghost of the reality of Death... and the never again seen or experienced.

That tumultuous necessity of inner presence... designed to fulfill the void... of a Love absent... or hatred present.

Martial Love

Dream a little lesser than the common man;

Unfurl the realm of the distinctive plan.

Unhinge all lettered forms of notion;

Breathe in the night, stymie the will of commotion.


Live as if baked in fresh bread:

Love the senses to dream beyond the thickest of blood red.

Listen to all notions of fortitude toward the marching future:

Dream that the rain brings new hope, to repair through its suture.


Loving the sea to accompany self into salvation,

Delve high into the mind to release all potential of unleashed incantation.

Witness the sky high as the magic of tomorrow;

And dream of sorrow, drowned beyond the blood marrow.


High we seek all of love to descend upon mankind;

Give us hope, love and exhaustive appreciation:

So as to engender trust within the love of strife,

Undo all sensational means of torture to welcome into the mind… the particle of love, breathed into life.