The Rivalry of 'Blue On Blue'

When two souls join back together,

after learning each lesson,

and/or after experiencing,

seeing and understanding every one of those lessons,

and/or experiences,

it will be Time to Know.

Knowing that Some will be forever lost,

the cost each of you willingly acknowledges,

it is the price to cure this disease,

this Apathy plaguing Humanity.

Those of you that become lost,

you will be cherished,

each and every one of you,

our eternal view.

As a protection,

the inoculation from this disease,

to impress and stamp urgency on your soul,

one shall be immortal,

the other invincible.

It will be written at the beginning,

your journey perilous,

the vision,

"Deed."

You will not know,

which stamp you receive,

but this imprint shows like Stead,

it will be a homing vice,

if the other becomes not nice.

Because this illness has know preference,

the victim stamps with all but better,

the ink that stamped your first encounter,

shall be interchangeable between your lover.

This ensures an 'Apathetic Law'

if it is contracted by one and 'Saw'

you will not be drug down by ties,

instead your decision,

the Abide of Rite.

Difficult Choices

The best and quickest map to thee,

to the other before they bleed,

the journey perilous, 

many will be,

very sick and lie to lead.

Know Return 

The source of Cause,

the 'Why' it's done,

may be known,

it will be Rote.

On that Note,

the means of whom,

will fall victim or explain this summed.

Why

This journey that you have chose,

to embark will give us so.

With that knowledge we can create,

not a cure,

for that is take.

To know that when this is a contract,

some will try and sum due sigh.

However the Lies will continue,

to pass-on a strange and known menu,

either the Mind will know or unknowingly censure,

the math adds up to subtract the digger.

I am knot certain how this work,

knowing naturally seems Berserk!

This disease of apathy reads,

it is contracted much like a deed.

You either destroy or create goodreads,

this seems the only central lead.

A 'Carry' or what's known as 'Throw'

is the strength and conviction rows.

Each of you have a matched soul,

but a Twin will be so Old.

A Guide

A Twin Soul Require,

as the Fire ignites,

the Flame to Rite begins to Sight.

Those of you that lose your match,

be protected from a further hurt,

you will continue this journey of,

the same agenda,

it shows no love.

The loss in such will be just that,

overwhelming and in such,

you'll know I'm roaming.

It will be felt amongst this now, 

in this case of memory erase,

pain will taste,

your journey?

Post Haste

It will begin when you remember,

all that's said will be a cinder.

Draw the strength to Continue,

towards the phase of a knew member.

You will know,

this has been,

one last effort,

to Be or have Been. 

Look around,

remember the power,

that surround of all found.

As long as you are able,

there will be stable.

Know the battle has not ended,

you will leap,

next task?

Complete

Know the 'signs'

reminders hold Vessels.

To draw strength,

remind your soul,

the heart of all is the being told.

Remember it will take only take,

one matched set of souls to brake.

The Bitter End

This Disease of Apathy,

know 'matter' what,

progression's better.

It has infected,

humanity subjected,

the souls that this knowledge subjective.

This disease,

it's being spread,

you will be amongst.......,

it's dread!!

Immediately

Empowerment comes with no tether,

for by the 'other' you'll know.

Discover

This will be,

the beginning of an end,

this illness is,

up and running,

it is bringing mankind to a junction,

extinction Sees and it is burning.

The hurt will be an unfamiliar lead,

it's not known but shows a Rudder.

All of this,

that's been spake,

know and draw there's no mistake.

Comfort found the knowledge sound,

that this will be,

the fall for Deed.

The Few of Us,

will find a trust,

the cure to bust is in the lust.

The first two Twinned will know the cure,

is not to win but feel absurd.

At that moment,

will such win?,

for this battle is against the blend.

Eternal death for each a View,

I have no Soul,

how 'bout You?

The cure will be a typed vaccine,

that enables a Man to See.

The next step,

through Time and Read,

you'll be at risk of an unknown dish.

Brisk

That is 'Why'

this has all been,

voluntary,

without the sin.

The purity of a matched Twin,

sets the pace of souls that race.

It is our best defense and yet,

we still could wreck,

the risk is test.

Should you know the truth,

please don't spew what is uncouth, 

your soul will also come to due,

soon enough I will too.

The biggest threat,

your memories,

the power and sight will remain like Sees,

but you will be,

filled with sickness,

because what you've done is mired with stunned.

The actual,

the impact is known,

for each of us will hear the Tone,

it will be up to you,

to decide or choose 'who's who'

What to do?

Compassion should be a guide,

an empathic natural ride,

the sight of one that knows you too,

your own soul,

 circles 'Blue on Blue' 

Using Knowledge, Power and Sight,

to destroy I'm guessing 'Might'

only weakens but does cause fright,

if recognized will deploy a given Rite.

Know Hesitation

Only at that moment will,

you be filled with tact until,

the wisdom to act becomes.....

'The Frill'

The Charge is Life

Throughout 'Time' the best of the worst makes gain,

rehearse!!

With each step,

take nothing,

 just feel the breeze that You create with your breath.

The bigger the 'stride'

the more ground you cover,

not faster just longer.

A 'Course' that increases the 'Jump'

knot tightens the girth!!

A 'Fall' is the grace of Nature,

saving you from a wreck.

Appreciate the ground you land upon,

it is built to catch you not kill you!!

You may have the wind-knocked out of you,

don't gasp 'cause,

you can't.

Just lie still,

death is lurking.....,

be patient and the moment will not deliver Post Haste,

but a calm affect to regain what you have lost,

your 'seat'

Death Charges Too!!

The Hills Are Alive And The Mountains Dream

The Day of Broken,

the moments breath,

it almost seems....

what is best?

To stand to only wait,

hear the beat,

the drum does pound.

I heard the 'some',

few will be or make it through,

will it be,

the 'You' and the Truth.

To study the Worlds View,

seems to change,

a Constant tune,

the Music Theorized,

as if it's blue,

will there be a day blown too?

Question answers know insight,

the eyes, the face, 'Hello' is true.

Should you sit,

wait for tact,

does frustration batter rack?

Up or Down,

left or right,

death and life,

like a door,

the hinge deplored.

Invite a common friend in flight,

the Run-A-Way is a gift of fright,

once the bet,

now thought plight,

does the sample deem what's nice?

Interviews long in length,

the Verse of Graph is new in silence,

does this lead to a twilight?,

or simple speak of what shows Might?

The Root of Old,

or,

back-to-basics of our past,

court the ring of the elemental return,

in a Fire that still does burn?

No more does the ignite so flame,

it is burning,

 the desire so plain.

James Blunt On Going Back To Basics

James Blunt on going back to basics, Whitney Houston and new album Moon Landing

"I didn't want to hide behind musicians or production. I stripped things down."

by Joe Bosso
October 1, 2013

“I really, really enjoyed making this one," gushes James Blunt, talking about his forthcoming album Moon Landing. "The best thing about it is that I made it for myself. I wasn’t even thinking about an audience. When people hear it, I think they’ll recognize it as a genuine sound and will be able to relate to it in a very personal way."

Moon Landing, due out November 5th, sees Blunt renewing his collaboration on eight cuts with Tom Rothrock, the Los Angeles-based producer who guided the singer-songwriter to multi-platinum fame with 2004's Back To Bedlam. It's a wholly naturalistic experience, largely bathed in the sounds of unvarnished folk-rock, on which Blunt, who also worked with producers Martin Terefe, Ryan Tedder and Steve Mac, achieves a startling level of intimacy, heard most notably on the elegiac ballad Miss America, written about the late superstar Whitney Houston.

Blunt sat down with MusicRadar recently to talk about the new LP, getting back to his roots and our celebrity-obsessed culture.

This is the first time you've worked with Tom Rothrock since 2007's All The Lost Souls. What do you think is special about your collaboration with him?

“Well, just that – it is a collaboration. You know, we've always stayed in touch. Tom has always been a great friend and has come off on holiday with me – a bit too much, really; he should have been off working. [Laughs] But for me, it’s been a real journey to go back to Tom. This all started when I got signed to an independent label, Custard Records, and I was an independent artist. So I worked with an independent artist, Tom, who had also worked with Elliot Smith, Badly Drawn Boy and Beck.

“We made Back To Bedlam, which, of course, had You’re Beautiful on it. That song sort of stripped me of my independent roots and took it all to a dirty place called ‘mainstream.’ That was an amazing journey and experience – three world tours. We made a second independent album, and on that I brought in my touring band. They took with them all of their great experience and musicianship, and they gave the record its sound.

“For the third record, I found that I had to try to write songs for these larger spaces I was playing, the arenas around the world. I guess I was doing what I’d always wanted to do since I was a teenager, fronting a band and playing an electric guitar, but as I said, I was writing for these big places and thinking of what an audience might want. It was phenomenal and great fun, but I think the emphasis was on the fun; it wasn’t as emotionally and personally fulfilling as when you’re writing for yourself.”

A song like Bonfire Heart has what you’re saying – a more intimate folk-rock sound.

“Yeah, absolutely. I just started stripping things back. I started realizing that I didn’t want to write for you – not ‘you’ personally, but you know what I mean [laughs] – because then I’d be writing what I thought you wanted. I’d be saying the words that I thought you wanted to hear rather than words that were simply true.

“I went initially to Martin Terefe, who actually was the guy who gave me the confidence to do what I wanted to do. By stripping things down and working with him in his studio, with him right there in the room as a producer rather than being behind a screen, we played stuff live. On a song like Blue On Blue, for example, it was played in the studio completely live, with all of the musicians performing together at once. It’s all one take. There’s no Auto-Tuning or fixing up or massaging. It’s all real. I decided that doing it this way was how I wanted to go. And it’s exciting, too – you’re not just trying for radio play.”

You and I have talked before about how important the acoustic guitar is to you –

“That’s right, and that’s still important to me. On this album, I didn’t want to hide behind musicians or production. I stripped things down. It was important for me to get back to me with a guitar or at a piano. Doing that would let the lyrics and the vocals stand out and capture the audience. I was confident that these were some of the strongest songs I’d ever written, and going back to Tom allowed me to show them off and really realize what they were all about.

“In many ways, this is the kind of record I would have made if Back To Bedlam hadn’t sold. If I hadn’t put You’re Beautiful on it, I would have done another indie album, and it would’ve been called Moon Landing.”

I don’t want to use the word “renaissance,” but as you know, there’s a wealth of acoustic-based acts doing very well these days. Your thoughts?

“These things goes in waves, don’t they? It’s not a new thing. Before The Lumineers, there were folks playing acoustic-based music; before me there was Damian Rice, and before him there was David Gray. They didn’t invent the genre, either. It goes around in different cycles, and it will continue to do so. As long as good music comes from it, that’s all that matters.”

When you sit down to write, which guitar do you go to? You have your Gibson J-45 and your LG-1…

“Yeah, but you know what? A lot of the time it’s on piano. I played a lot more piano on this record, and you can hear that, I think. Blue On Blue is one of the most acoustic guitar-led songs on there, but it’s got some phenomenal piano, too. Postcards is one I wrote on the piano, but now it’s a ukulele song!” [Laughs]

When you sit down at the piano to work on a song, do you go to a melodic place that’s different from when you write on a guitar?

“Well, see, I’ve always chopped and changed between the two. Obviously, I travel with a guitar because it’s just easier to check it into planes and what not. But I do like to write on both, and what happens is, if I’ve written something on one instrument I’ll play it on the other just to see if it gives me a different feel.

“I’ve always found the piano to be comfortable. You can sit at it, it’s a piece of furniture, and you can even put a computer on top of it and write down lyrics as you go. I’ll bring in the guitar to give something a bit more tempo. A song like Bonfire Heart has the tempo it does because of the guitar.”

Heart To Heart harkens back to ‘80s pop-rock – which is not a bad thing. The main guitar riff has a cool, retro feel.

“Yeah, well, I’m embarrassed to say that I’m probably an ‘80s child, aren’t I? [Laughs] I can’t escape that as a sound, which is probably why I talk about nostalgia – you can’t get away from where you come from. I like hearing the sound of the past.

“You kind of hit the nail on the head, though, because in the lyrics I say, ‘Sometimes I don’t know where I stand, you make me feel like I’m a boy and not a man.’ The whole thing is about how a girl makes you feel like a teenager again.”

Tom isn't the only producer on Moon Landing. What do you like about working with multiple producers on one record?

“It gives me a bit of freedom. While working with Martin, I got a sense of excitement and a clear direction. Without him, this album wouldn’t have had its injection of honesty. But then I really understood what I wanted to do with Tom. He would give this album the body of work; he took me on a journey. I was singing to him rather than an imaginary audience. He took the time to allow me to go down all the wrong paths until I found the right one. I don’t know anybody else who is that patient, who would sit in a room for months on end and allow that.

“And working with Ryan Tedder on Bonfire Heart allowed me to say, ‘Let’s make this upbeat, driving song that connects with lots of people.’ That was the meaning of the song when we wrote it. He has the hyperactivity within his musicianship that I wanted.

Let’s talk about the song Miss America, which is about Whitney Houston. In many ways, this feels like your Candle In The Wind.

“I wrote it about her... and it’s weird because I never thought that I would talk about it too much. But yeah, I think it’s a very sad story. What’s worse is that it should be a great story. Her life should be a celebration. She was a phenomenal talent. She had a beautiful voice and she was an incredible-looking person. Inside and outside, there was something very special going on.

“And yet, this sadness overtook it all, and I feel that we were the ones who were spectators to it. And we’re the ones who enjoyed being spectators. We clicked online to read her story, to see her story; we bought the magazines. So we contribute in many ways, because every time you click on a link or buy a magazine, more paparazzi go out and follow those people. The same with Amy Winehouse and Princess Diana.”

I hear what you’re saying, but at the same time, there were many of us who would click on those stories because we were rooting for those people. We wanted Amy Winehouse and Whitney Houston to get better, to seek treatment. We wanted them to be well.

“Yeah, yeah, but if you still click a link, even if you’re trying to send that person the support that you feel, the website is still sending out paparazzi to follow them. And the new lens that’s trained on that person makes their prison cell, their goldfish bowl, that much smaller and more intense. So if those people don’t have good family or good support, their personal issues will come to the fore even harder. I definitely think that we contribute to the pressures they’re under.”

When you sat down to write the song, whether it came to you in waves or all at once, did you deliberate over it? Were you like, “Should I go there?”

“It was easy to do, actually, because it’s something I feel strongly about. I had her in mind, but you know, her story is not uncommon. I could have told you that it was about somebody else and convinced you of that. Amy Winehouse’s story is the same story. I think that’s why it’s relevant. For me, it was easy to write because I think it happens often.

“Music is an amazing thing, and I can understand why people want to follow musicians. Music brings people together. I can play in Beirut, Lebanon, where Muslim, Christian and Jew will all stand in the same building and celebrate music and sing together. I can do that all across the world in different venues, and people will travel to join in. The music is one thing, but the people who play the music, we don’t have to put them on too much of a pedestal. I’m only given a stage because I’m not very tall; otherwise, you wouldn’t see me. [Laughs]

“But at the end of the day, I don’t save a life like a doctor or a nurse; I don’t educate like a teacher. I don’t rebuild a country like an aid worker, and I don’t protect people like the police or the fire department. These are the real celebrities of the world, and it’s worth it to understand that.”

Of course. At the same time, you’ve gotten the letters and e-mails – your music strikes a chord with people and helps them through tough times.

“Absolutely. And I wouldn’t take that away from it. It does do that. Perhaps the music industry confuses that aspect. What do we take away from the MV Music Awards? There’s nothing about the music – it’s all about twerking.”

Source:

http://www.musicradar.com/news/guitars/james-blunt-on-going-back-to-basics-whitney-houston-and-new-album-moon-landing-585506 

Face the Sun ~ by James Blunt

Face The Sun

Songwriters: 

Blount, James Hillier / Steve, Robson

~

Yes, this love's not good enough 

Is time to let it go 

Our weary hearts just fall apart, 

I feel it in my bones 

And God knows 

That it's hard to find the one 

But in time, 

All the flowers turn to face the sun 

So silently just walk with me, 

Like any other day 

No sad goodbyes, no tears, no lies, 

Just go our separate ways 

And God knows 

That it's hard to find the one 

But in time, all the flowers 

Yes in time, 

All the flowers turn to face the sun 

And God knows 

That it's hard to find the one 

But in time, 

All the flowers turn to face the sun

~ 

Courtesy of;

http://www.lyricsfreak.com/j/james+blunt/face+the+sun_21067205.html

Told Knows ~ I've Gone Rogue

About and Upon a Single Day,

the exposure of only "It" can settle Planned.

With nothing more than unexpected texts,

to the loved ones this evil possessed.

Damned

As I travel to the fight,

my fists are held but not in tight,

the grip becomes the understanding, 

of that which lead to be thrown.

Beware of the Bee Hives Nest,

it is no longer the Comb of smashed,

evident and pointed out,

the sting becomes the plot.

The tangle of the Mind,

 is the Synapse firing Told,

the Word-Full switch introduced the hitch,

the 'Trailer' of a Niche!!

To safely move amongst such gave,

the freedom to know that it is Sign,

a perfect way to Out the Play,

of a persons' sickening state!!

So to whom I do address,

a Person with a which this subject placed.

I stream to You whom had the nerve,

 to Text the two whom cannot Hex,

You displayed and will regret,

for Words are set an Text is Met.

With 'all' whom know,

 it is truth,

who wrecked?,

and I have spoke of that which let.

Satellites ~ by James Blunt

SATELLITES

She’s another victim of life we’ve come to know.

Technology, celebrity, all the things you cannot hold.

She’s from a long lost tribe looking for the light or a friend to hold her hand.

She’s doing the best she can.

Seems that everyone we know’s out there waiting by a phone,

Wondering why they feel alone in this life.

Are we all just satellites?

Where’s the love, show me tonight.

Here’s the moment we unite,

Ooh, oh uh-oh.

For all we know life’s just a dream,

Who the hell knows what it means?

Stop the world and sing with me,

Ooh, oh uh-oh.

All her memories have been experienced through,

High speed on a video screen that’s all she ever knew.

Did you know none of it’s real if you can’t feel the beating of someone’s heart.

Don’t leave yourself in the dark.

Seems that everyone we know’s out there waiting by a phone,

Wondering why they feel alone in this life.

Are we all just satellites?

Where’s the love, show me tonight.

Here’s the moment we unite,

Ooh, oh uh-oh.

For all we know life’s just a dream.

Who the hell knows what it means?

Stop the world and sing with me,

Ooh, oh uh-oh.

Courtesy of;

http://www.jamesblunt.com/audio/lyrics.htm?lyric=124#lyrics

Sent to Me Via Email by Diane Gallagher Owner of Sun Valley Equestrian

From: Sun Valley Equestrian (Sunvalleyequestrian@yahoo.com) You moved this message to its current location. Sent: Tue 9/24/13 7:11 PM To: Set Zero (blackjet@live.com)

Food for thought....

In the game, of games the seer, sees,  so can the seer, see the forest from the trees?

Natural law

The universal way, invests its time, when we choose to play.

In the end we all know whats true

and fair, and we are responsible for the crosses we bare.

For the  intrinsic truth remains in all, whether  they know or not   the plot and Scene their vibration

Will choose what they need.  actor exudes  intentions of cruel then ask inside who's  the fool?losing themselves along the way.

How many times I can not say

Forgetting the gift of whom we are,  adding to the layers of hidden scars......

We fall

Sent from my iPhone

Karmic Debt Speaking Truth

The Spur to Past,

rates mistakes have been shown,

a known appeal a peaceful Treaty,

to complete a Whole with Knight!!

The sorted details of last Lives,

fights' tries,

Escapes not to ever deny but to Learn,

in the End I guess it is just Yearn,

another Turn?

B.D.S.M. a Master of Start,

I spied out Places,

I ran to See the exist,

I must admit I do miss,

the freedom of the lift.

The Authority of Rank,

no complaint,

it's youth to pull through or quite possibly,

to pull-off,

the ventured truth.

To count amounts,

I don't delve to far,

my third-eye Full-of-Knights,

Dark Lords' declare!!

Lost to Found,

I soared across dimensional dues,

the active possible,

a Being in Actual,

the trappings,

Mortal present Review!

To Tell,

I was told,

did I honor the Vow of Start?,

in gracious word of all being absurd,

never believed,

I confess, Know!!

A valiant throw,

to lose the hold,

subject too,

followed by All of You!!

The Numbered Valued,

the halt in trained,

I site...re frame,

the example may have been the pursuit of Thee!!

Although in the end, any End,

I think you'll not buy my pry.

Oh but for the glory of the View,

it etched out Centuries in Millenias' do,

Creation must blush as Evolution disciplines design,

a harsh and cutting record.

Imagine the Dungeons' Mastered on this Earth,

walking the very same Turf,

no memory, no refuge in knowing plight,

a get-a-way or a Park,

Site.

The rest of such a Tale,

story's a line belonging to only Mind,

for belief is lost to any such thing,

Faith is cost and innocence, well...., 

that is the one I saved for that just in case moment,

 if Reality delivers memories (to You) too.

Oh!!, the trouble began,

I could not imagine that a billion lives later,

you would either remember or be able to deliver,

that Letter of the Law that I broke,

you know that Eternal Marker,

the Rule of a Self-Starter!!

Chances are,

Remembrance wanes,

Time winds in reverse,

a hopeful state.

On that strange occasion,

when I feel the Presence of more than Self,

I look to See,

and that Army of You,

boy oh boy has it grown

A Dark Lords' Preview

The Marching entails a degree in Being,

the spies that found me just in Seeing.

Curiosity asks,

questions strained,

what if this Real in Mind,

the thoughts at work,

really acknowledged the escape of a Past Life,

possible a Trillion Years ago,

happened.

How long could One like Your Self,

for example,

Court the Laws of a B.D.S.M. Require?

I feel the mounting pressure to confess,

what if We met and the Earth blew,

 and We were, 

dead, alive and dead again before I could remember,

 the excuse that must exist to give to you.

 Run or Persist

The more I write the worse it sounds,

like Karma found this one chink in the Armor I pound.

Certainly the Time between,

that can't or isn't kept from Our start,

would not tell but advise,

this Trip is Hell!!

It would not be like it wasn't true,

I mean look around you,

everyone says,

"It's the Time," "It's the Apocalypse," "The End,"

etc. etc.!!,

so, in honest appeal I witnessed Heaven fell,

grant it this disturbs me Still.

But maybe I meant to say,

on that Day way back When...

'I rode your horse away,

jumped the fence to View what's Sent,

not realizing it was Me!!

.........

I went and maybe said;

"I'll meet you in Hell' and not that reputed line of,

"Go to Hell"

would the 'Story' Stand?

Even with that being said,

 in a sort of Prose,

it may have been Riddling instructions,

 indeed it was or could have been,

 the hurried escape that I was most obviously making,

that saddled this due.

This is getting worse,

as I dig a deeper hole,

I am burying myself in the identifying of a far-off life,

in a Past Theme of a future might.

Concerning

I will have to stick to my thoughts of,

nobody believes and,

 "Why" on Earth would We meet?,

unless of course your Memories,

have bettered your Sees.

Deed

I wonder or more often ponder,

this Truth of:

"Could it Be?"

~

My Karmic Debt number is 16

Love & commitment have been forsaken.

What is Poetry? The Unconscious Conscious' Conscious Lead?

The Bit of Bridled Truth

As Poets 'our' dead from what you've read,
I claim a riddles through.

To explain or Exclaim!!,
that Prose is Versed,
the rhythm bets,
that rhymes are set.

 To entice farther still,
the likes advantage only due,
the words are meters Let.

The spoken sentence in reverse,
offers cursed and places wreck,
with bounds of met.

So I've heard poetry is lost,
but Bound a future Found.

Strange how perversity still blames,
the Tongue's of switch,
play the Gamed.

The chest of Man,
the Steel is planned,
to bank this placed,
Eye target; Raced!!

Why must Songs be so Framed,
to hide Exist?, or just to List,
the coming Age as Knew resist.

The formal persist of know reply,
it's all just a Sign,
of Times that Vie.


~

http://www.poetry.org/whatis.htm

Voiced Speaks On Past In Present Dues

Clearly with great advantage,

the View of Past History pursues.

The repetitiousness is very nearly,

the most hideous of fights,

it is horrific.

The Good vs Bad,

a religious record,

to manage the masses,

with one simple crush,

the demise,

a managed plight.

It is varied,

and most certainly done!!

The changing rules to adopt new moods,

transgressed at best,

as the 'olds' do rest they just must,

turn to change,

 lanes,

 a different Vain.

An opposite,

anything is better than watching this death,

now it is a lie becoming Religions that debt,

polluted!!

Found-Out through history proof,

religion games on each of you,

the Plots are stolen prequels to do,

in such renounced beliefs and erased Chief's,

makes Red claim,

as blood is evidence and remains!!

Plains

Should a Practice shame itself with death providing wealth,

than life must die to provide,

the fear of fright in scared,

a Witch and now a Gun,

a Cross of last did sum.

Either countenance must be known,

as craft or profane,

to nail in the same,

to Like or feel ordained!!

A wealth of hidden treasures,

kept from human view,

knew and told of Times,

that blast an Age with New!!

The Voice,

parchment placed,

wrote for Type,

Satan raised as Uncle saved,

Lucifer in sight; I pry,

Why?

Hold back the Books of Do,

if done to Sight the seen in Real,

began the coming feel.

The deal dealt a Centuries death,

to poets, sonnets or verses read,

know spoken tongue understood,

as babble is the Hash-tagged done.

A town, a city felled for same,

a Towered ramble of no-One could,

understand, how quick, how fast,

if belief is actually passed.

The rubble of the stone is Clear,

still crumbling in the hands of whom,

make know calls with Text remains,

as seen in placed,

not reamed, erased.

The strange appeal has stretched Time to reveal,

the 'old text' 'rote in granite'

still exists as Verse atones to posed,

much like the phone.

With each finger swipe,

the Chiseler stirs to Keep,

the Hold redemption,

a lost art to interpret or to translate,

equaling one in the same,

as only Time separates,

the Ancients brake.

To Incarnate, to Be or to have Been,

this Entry would silence them,

a quiet spell to curse the minds,

that did erase that traces rhyme.

Exposed disgrace as Being,

the Human Race degrading,

the worth of thought,

the value of consideration,

the measure of memory,

and the Course to Guide us from,

a decrepit demise of sewn.

Aptly named,

praising: Blame,

the crucifix is stilled to shame!!

Even the 'olds' would change points of view,

to change sides to 'out' all you,

to realize that Evils' live and all the warnings only denied,

that action has been read to the bone,

than ignored to store the Stone.

An Open door,

to a Closing venue

to make evident decisions for,

the individual whom changes the suit,

to proper, formal, naturals pursue,

to See the Truth.

Not manufactured stolen Verse,

changed to advantage what's now perverse,

increasing the Satcheled purse,

pass the bucket down the pew,

secured to ravage as coinage adage,

10% likened to,

 the savage reign in a thousand years of said,

 profane.

A play to restrain,

not add too with re-read,

displacing seed to utter bleed.

The diction only spake,

warn to heed the times of trouble shall proceed,

the fall of humanity,

the proud, the flesh,

is simply called mortality.

The equation equaled an Ancients place,

to trace erased, guide the few,

for Dark is Red and Black is Blue,

as Dragons fume,

finality comes in Two!!

Fire flames no burnt remains,

the tempo hot the Charts are Art,

the raise in menu, the vision Pop,

the choir of,

is a Band in State.

The station changed holds the key,

now digitized for all to knew,

a coarse of driven point to view,

the climb is merely the demise of the lies,

written to spite the Proper evil as the Game in Hand.

As Cards not Dealt,

questions instead,

Moot to Verse,

reverse the scene,

to property redeemed.

The Art, no Act,

B.D.S.M. is real tact,

dungeons Master Lairs,

with only what is done to stare,

to bring or made to run,

'cause belief is waning too,

singulars are training to prepare,

for what Ever offers: Wares!!

The After of a Moments Life,

exists within this given sted,

condemnation opens links,

not to spy the chains go clink.

To Rein-In,

shorten leash,

the collared flight,

the Opened soar,

dimensions squared builds boundary's dare,

whom Few will enter to Sight the Fair.

The cosmic magic of lives that fact,

the employ of Sir's for racked,

to Master abrupt Word to Verse,

learn the Mystic risks to trip this,

for the choice on only tragic,

opens up these doors of traffic.

Venues

Held to Mind the Thought does prove,

that escape hears a tune,

the Tone of Low calls for Rafters,

to swing right through this Sight of Ruptured.

No Men in sight to stop this flight,

the Fight?,

seen in closing eyes,

the Third-Eye views.

Halls of Forms Armored Knights,

these Dark Lords seem to store,

all is Seen, the dance?, my floor.

To Rock the Truth,

find the root,

unleash the found to only sound,

leaving the breeze releasing the noise,

escapes a Universe in a state.

Rhythm to the frequency

I do run, I know the pace,

of this Sted in Human Race.

Is the lead to know disgrace,

it's not my face but your days,

the words express in years of eight,

a wait not long,

just a trace.

too measure miles,

exact the date,

mark the death,

with practiced Stay.

Go Long,

believe your biblical record,

as the Verse of a lord,

crucified and than thus ate,

the Prophet did prove what's best.

Forced to Memory spoken Versed,

not written rule to charge the Fool.

Changing Facts to exact,

dividing lines to advantage Signs,

darkens plots to make remarks.

The Ever before the After is fact,

the chapter learned to speak not flat,

most not turned 'cause of burned,

choices' made by Monks in days.

Uncouth, Hidden beneath the Catholics' loot,

thoughts to Lead,

ideas' of spoken threads,

sewn to distant familiar times,

for preparation knot reformation.

As only years can prove,

evidence has been removed,

translated rude reversed to do,

the 'might' to know,

such fright for genders,

that twice these Sentences' produced such Censured.

What comes is done,

trained for some,

a total whole,

not lost but pulled.

Too out the Mission as admission,

of apathetic assuming position.

Authority is and Equal wrath,

the quiet in the midst of storm,

the Reign of already adored,

is not a crown made of thorns,

 but the whistling of a trumpeting Lore.

The Shudder Of Suite

The bounding of any Hymn,

securing a Lore,

a Song or a Scroll,

rolls from the Tongues that sing to read.

The deepest desire to grasp entire,

the complete of a whole,

distributed to told.

The divisive clamp,

the directive to ramp,

the authority grates,

the Tip?,

changes steal the trip!!

A certain brink,

brought with think,

invites no end but creates reason to begin.

Embracing when as an acceptance of Being,

the Translation; Believing!!

The Fate of Self,

an enduring wealth,

a provision of Faith dealt,

held within a Singular Cell,

it is 'well'

the depth of no crater,

design is greater,

the height of all Scene,

is participant if shown.

The mystery known,

the Road that Nature roams,

no 'matter'

 a viable space,

the Dark in Birth,

sets pace.

The Venture of the Sight adjusts,

too know the light has no plight,

a memory recite; a way to fight!

Whilst in this state,

no rest, a nest to impress,

the Web of Deceit is,

the present test.

A Feat

The Reach an Arms stretch,

the slumber of man's Vest,

the metal of the chest,

Kept: Humanity wept!!

The Stream of Know Flow,

washed out the former shout,

to conquer the mention of real,

doubt.

The bridged Accord,

the sound of Foiled,

broke-down,

the un-earthed found!!

The startle so loud,

the noise of Crowd,

mended to make proud,

the evidence did plow.

The Major Constellation,

the type, a relation,

Stood to be Scene,

so easily Feened,

the nature so deemed.

It became what is known as relief,

or just maybe, it could be,

a dream coming true,

in a single and simple fact,

Time always Tells,

it's Exact.

Ghosting Earth, A Realm With Turf

The Heart of Humanity,

the measurement against a Fetter.

The weight seems carried,

a harried approach as mans encroach,

distributed to lighten their load.

Shackled to the Mortal Body,

the Energy sapped when trust becomes availability,

the length of Stay,

a morbid play.

The sighting of a Galaxy,

One so brilliantly made,

by design, not Ours,

We are Able, to Be stable.

To enjoy the Stars,

shining so bright and seemingly on course,

to burn, to learn,

it seems Our turn.

Soaking-in the Moon,

she is in full-bloom,

the mirrored affects the Bay,

the shimmer of Earth increases her girth,

lighting the Sky to complement her Sted.

In patient Order,

Isis, Set,

the Sun will peek her due.

The next Horize to realize,

a brilliant day,

a time of due.

The fragment of the southern tip,

a Cosmos teaching,

a pleading stored,

the Energy seeks to out the Spear,

the point to drive,

explosive pry.

The billions of years in birth of here,

the death will find a future peer,

the sound of longing begins with tone,

the moan of growing pains begin to stir.

In existence this Planets resistance,

design does magnify with persistence,

the darkest hole, the greatest light,

could never pass without a Fight.

Hint

The Memory Door,

for All to chore,

the Mind of Thought is often fraught,

the Work it takes is wade.

Life is planned,

it is standing,

with gracious detail Mother Nature appeals,

it is Real.

Humanity believes this breath surreal,

at best a rest,

at worst a deal,

this reprieve delivers feel.

Is it the Dream that enters sleep,

that Keep, the Hold,

a vast repair, so quick despair,

when Millions 'out' Wrath,

a subtraction or act?

Is it the Math that adds-up to a Fact,

that the management of a provisional Flat,

this Earth in a planetary Row,

is chilled in galactical flow,

as a tactic of a Universe in a Solar Systems growth.?.