Welcome, and thanks for stopping here to read selections of my original poetry and prose. Only half my art is here. As you browse my puppets, words if you will, think of them as empty hulls whose dance and form are only animated in Play through my vocal conveyance of their characters and via my direction of their tone. Lyric to the ears, its whole message soon appears, in thus the conjuring of ancient daemons deep within to combat the evil ones brought up infernal by the Craft of ages can be our stage tonight.

On this blog the theme is AWAKENING and how Revelation is not some story plural in a Book but supposed to be one of yours in this lifetime. Here in verse I share with you my inquiry to which has bonded Muse.
YOUR STORY IS THE STORY. Their horsie four so full of holes they named that way just to have a laugh. Revelation and Creation coincide, they never stopped. A daily occurrence in a Live Show me is true Prophesy which I assure you, smells nothing like a library book, and for which no innocents are ever killed. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you copy it to heart.

Battle of the Robes

Battle of the robes
it burned the whole world down
in one week
in just a week no brief
endless moral droves
for the Battle of the robes.

The world on fire why?
Hypocrisy melts steel beams.

Cuz selfish hordes
an udder aristocracy, cuz...
the Battle of the robes!

Whilst war it wages old
upon the human soul,
grenade from tank your taxes toil'd
embeds soft skull
child sacrifice full day red soil'd
missing chairs in classrooms
hitting busses with precision bombs.

Battle of the robes.

Chemtrails come like mushrooms,
and FEMA broke my phone.
Polar done lost its all between.
But this ain't no Singularity.
Or even nonwhite hole.
All holes matter!

The battle of the robes!

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