You Wake To Know You ......Seethe!!

We come from distance great,

to deliver messages sent,

the Universe does shout,

as we come about.

Blindness grew through Ages,

the Ancient built such signs,

Humanity has dumbed this down,

stating, "It's not sound."

The enlightened mind resting,

leaves Life to Trace a Find,

the angles become the bracing,

for All that are not bound.

As Centuries have passed,

the "Ages" so do last,

encircling the globe,

announcing darkness know!

In the Writings still entombed,

the Chiseler's evidence stating doom,

saddened many to mark for You,

there is a way to get through.

The Conscious Mind must Wake,

a collective by design,

mapping out what must be found,

a posture to tackle bind!!

In Rote you may just know,

a natural law in such times,

when teaching invokes death,

kills based on imminent threat.  

The Voice has witnessed this,

as apologies persist,

but to take a life to save a life,

is a twisted fit.

A Gathering of the Mute,

in places which impute,

the belief is in the listing,

Resistance seems the Misting.

Enlightenment will pass,

the need to know reaches Wrath,

the Mind withholds the Path,

a Conscious Note of Hate.

a place of Peace your lost,

in Sake of need you want,

in Blast of wrong you're right,

the plight enhances blind.

You're Out-of-Time,

the rule in rote,

declares the Ages End.

No balance in this measure,

it will add-up to Sin.

Although you've turned your back,

to the Old and Ancients fact,

the Signs of Times,

will Speak with Lines,

the ones you will wait in.

The Shame that should show,

is the Blame in which You throw,

the fault is there imposed,

upon the roads of known.

The Words in the Verse,

the spoken of shown,

casts aside what is bliss,

in-spite You are blown.

In the Eyes which do see,

the Moor's of such kneed,

it is sung in more than reads,

by design and not a plead.

The Circle than complete,

the Hour-Glass breaks,

the Tumbler sounds,

a ride with no seat!!

The importance of Issue,

draws close to the days,

when Ignorance was used,

to excuse thus engaged.

Lacking the Skills,

to Listen to drilled,

You dug into History,

and dismissed the Mystery.

Do not turn to another,

reflection is in self,

review of your well,

may deepen the Tell.

Denial of History,

the Ages of Sign,

the Golden, the Silver, the Bronze to remind,

that Iron is Hot and darkens this plot.

A Play to Release,

the Stars which will be,

a guide to deliver,

more sages than me.

In rote I have written,

in memory of told,

that doubt will reveal,

the pages of Old!! 

To Write of an Insight

The Dynamics of the spoken verse,

when not rehearsed,

brings to light,

'An Explosive Pass'

The Gains-In-Such,

a natural thought,

Delivers Plot,

if sought.

A search with-in,

the singular desire,

of Learned.

Given too a Riddle,

a Sense of Predisposed.

A walk of an Ink-Filled Pen,

to explain parchments duty to record,

a chiseled approach,

to a gifted begin.

Should 'Lies' rule 'The Tongues' of a Surround,

than "To Write"

is to dig,

Carving-Out,

a sounding board.

To produce Reason,

a rationale reply,

an explanation of;
"Why do People lie?"

To obtain Natural-Knowledge,

through the Means of nothing more,
than thinking,
discovers an insight,
'Lost Times'

How much is Missing,
Ignored or Torn,
from the
Pages of History,
to Show,
that We're Born?

'The Study' of Reflection,
a Named interest,
Philosophers Play!

Obscure,
pushed-from,
as a threat,
Archaic-in-Set,
Heresy if said.

The endurance of such hatred,
must stem from an endeavor,
to expose an untruth,
a sorted past,
a developed lie,
a Conscience try,
A Do or Die!

Such Passion is burnt into Some,
to bring forward,
a World: Knew?

Pulsing in Ones Veins,
for reason not vain.

For Surely to pursue such course,
wisdom of past actions,
seem invested in Deep Wells of my Mind,
causing distress,
to equal best.

The forward detail,
of not taught,
but a Tale of a Tell,
Speaking Naturally.

Oh Well

Could it be a Wish,
a Spoken Dish,
a Sage coming to Age,
to Compose the Life,
a natural re-frame,
of so many buried claims?

To Bite upon "The Steal" of Truth,
an Iron,
a Signature Cue,
as a natural alarm,
to alert, not harm.

A New Yarn

The Sound of Surprise

A Directory-of-Thought!!

A synapse does Hold,

fire it does,

upon the rise of flame.

The Light-of-a-Display,

to Show,

not complain.

A given name,

of this,

I know.

Time does Play,

this symmetry,

it is so very, very Old.

Reframe

As the light does shine,

the moon shimmers upon the bay,

casting shadows,

a sobering sight,

I behold the Same.

The equation of a Note,

the Tone in Silence,

broke not the air,

but the Yoke,

of which Life had dealt me.

I spoke of what I did feel,

to suppose of such as surreal,

becomes the death of more than known.

It says 'Goodnight'

to what may be right,

not just for me,

but for everyone.

A Treasure is Held,

in Hope I Fell,

for Belief,

and not to sell,

the Ancient or the Wise.

To Me, at least,

the Lies that Preach,

no allowance for a new release,

takes no heed to that which bleeds.

A Point-Of-Difference Too See,

for Chance does Subject as well.

A Secular Reign of 'The Rune of Men,' A Script Of 'Old Past'

In 'The Collective Grind' of,

No More Than Men,

I give,

Way to the Conscious Mind,

not the,

 "Deadly Kind".

Reasons of,

' I do not Sign "

but Speak.

the Resistance,

is now,

Felt & Seen.

As only,

the rebellious stand of women,

to destroy.

Lacking a Sense,

to 'Know.'

I pronouce,

"YOU."

Men of Knew!!

Trouble,

no longer strides the horizon,

but Walks Amongst,

You,

with nothing more than,

' what you do. '

I am a Streaming Being,

a Sage and/or a Seer,

at best:

through what I write,

in the Luxury of Free Expression of?

Cursed Though

I express,

not my own 'Rebel,'

but the,

 "Nature of Felt."

A True & Redeeming fact,

nurturing what is lacking,

an Oracle.

Why?

the Mounting Community,

of Known.

Belief in what I have heard,

the Declare of Women,

"Rise against each and every Religious View of Man."

Keeping their Own,

Why?

A Monstrous Approach of,

never share to the only,

True Faith.

The Innocence of Believe,

in Anything,

instead,

it is the Sum of Only One Thing,

a Power Play for; 

'The Death' of Man Himself.

Be it Correct,

not right.

For that Requires,

a Turn & Not,

a Straight-Forward Approach.

Indicative,

of run or,

a defensive act:

simply known,

Left is death, i.e.,

making it a Destination,

not an empty Action,

upon known.

Just as "Good"

is not the opposite of,

"Evil"

I Stare,

at the Ignorance of the Offense,

and the Assumptions of,

the Spoken Tongue.

Changing definitions of Such,

have removed the cougar,

from it's Home,

and made it,

in Essence,

Me, a Girl to Prey Upon,

not rely on.

as Disparaging Remarks,

are cast-out,

upon My Verse,

I Stop.

I Stare.

I wonder,

then, 'I dare!'

Who are You?

Out-There,

Disrespecting All?

Know not,

Your Own Frailty,

towards Men.

for Them,

it shall be a,

"When, Win!"

The Like Minded,

merely Kowtow.

To the Knowledge,

that 'Correct'

is accepted,

not reducing this to more than:

It is..

a Voice from a Streaming Sage,

a Prodigy,

and more than likely or,

probably More!!

To Copyright,

the Words of Men,

I Wish.

Will Prove to only be,

the Evidential Support of the Christian Bitch,

seeking,

a Port from the Impending..

Right of Men,

and the,

 Actual Reign Thereof.

Bow not to any Man,

a Curtsy will do,

as Support in a Balance of,

"Know When."

To loose the Noose,

of the Chord,

of Sung,

will drop Your Tone.

Release Your Weapon,

of Mass Destruction towards such a Vile Means,

of which,

Women Support.

To not be caught,

not found,

this is their,

Double-Standard.

Invoking a 'Twisted-Tongue' 

of which,

They Speak,

so eloquently,

With and About,

to Friends & Foe...

A-Like.

Blasting this,

ambitious but cowardly,

Approach to Win:

I Ask,

"Win What?"

To Answer,

without a question,

is to State so Simply,

yet complicates,

Their so Obvious Reaction,

to such a reasoned and viable,

Respond.

"The destruction of Men, for the Sake of Them."

a Women's dim.

Then "The Laughter" is always evident,

through Their casual return,

to nothing more than; Burn.

Their Wish,

not mine.

Fuming at 'this girls' Verse,

I say,

"I know before I can, however, it is most definitely, A Curse, not a Plan!"

To Bow out Gracefully,

from the plotting,

of every,

Woe-Man;

just enhances,

the Strength that I must Embrace Naturally,

to say,

I believe that the,

 Loss of Faith,

leads to the,

Loss of Innocence,

which in-turn is the,

Final-Death of Life-Itself,

something counted on by,

these fouled women,

not relied upon,

like Men.

Their Mistake,

shall be 'My Gain.'

I release my Own,

to 'NO,'

be Knot Your-Self,

for "Why?"

That would be knowing an end,

in this,

Our Begin in this,

The Continue.

For Men!!

Recluse By Force Not Nature

B.D.S.M.,

a Man and His Require,

for a Higher Site of 'See.'

In this,

'No Fight,'

but "Right."

Turn Left & Know the Door,

to Fright,

not Fraught by Lack of a Dignified Design,

of Correction.

To 'Be an Announcement,'

not a Pronouncement of Shame.

Levity,

shall be a Plead,

from Those indifferent to different.

Exampling,

that laughter after,

such Appeal,

will by Rite,

bring 'Onto the Jester,'

a play of...

"Known by Proxy"

..not immediacy.

Challenging Nothing,

Receiving Everything,

I Gladly,

offer a Crucifiction Again:

To gain "Sight of a 'Seer'"

Begin,

and 'A Sage's',

inherent Right,

is to spin.

As the World Turns,

knot like or UN-like,

the Universe,

in a begin.

Say 'Hello' to Men,

not Man,

for that has been made merely a Kind.

All for Humanity,

to place blame on the backs of.

To "Engage a Whip,"

made slick by the blood it Meets in Repose,

I Challenge,

any to Dis-Robe and Meat Me!!

Not in the 'Sound of Dish,'

but the,

"Real of Do!!"

I,

double-dog Dare You Too.

A Simple,

yet Complete Thought,

to Touch,

not declare.

In the Sight of Nothingness,

I State,

to All Men Out There,

"Hey, What You do not 'See,' is what I do and Due, well."

I need not know,

a Lair of a B.D.S.M. REQUIRE,

to,

'Be A Dungeon in Keep.'

Of,

what only a Vulture,

would reap.

And,

I will Wrought for Loki,

the Boss of Me.

To Train Knot,

to Meet Death's Keeper,

to 'Gain Sight,'

of the Impending Demise,

Of:

 "What Will Be,"

Of:

"What Has Been,"

And of;

"What is,"

..in the,

 Tumultuous Turmoil,

of this,

the begin of,

'The Continue'

for Me & Mine!!

Shout NOT,

for Simple Verse,

I nurse.

To Exclaim,

the Excellence of Been.

Seen and Due,

to Know it is Now.

An Advancement of Sage,

that makes,

'No Day.'

Rather,

will just say,

"May"

An, 'ORDER', NOT A 'REPAIR'!!