*ROUND 3

My despondent life moves with the waves of a dreary ocean, I bare emotions of a fish that’s lost his way
At constant times I drown in a place where there’s barley solace, while careless Seagulls guffaw at my fall in pain
My pumping ventricles are wished to be clogged by an Octopus, whose absorbent grungy tentacles yearn my urn
Yet the unpleasant Eel won’t even shock me shook, for this broken fish has no electrical current worth
And I’m besieged in vacancy, swimming the seas in atrophy, trying to have the strength of mighty sailing ships
But a cynical hermit crab designed my skeleton, which is why I’m mistook for a spineless Jellyfish
If only I’d had a blissful companion we swim the Atlantic, and stay together as engagement followed through
But with my miserable antics that missions titanic, the sea to me will forever be a space of solitude
It’s all in view, all this fish’s infinite limitations, if only you could see through the eyes I count with
I tried to get a definite reputation, but received the disgraceful stripes of clownfish
I’ve just been racing through life contesting aloof, hoping eventually in my gills, potency grew
Now my soul is in two and water’s reflecting my mood, I guess that’s why this sorrowed ocean is blue…


And every night I wish the horizon; shed a light to where I’ll subside in
I wish to sever ties with Poseidon, and he end my life with his Trident...

I wish…

I wish a ship of oil, tipped and boiled on my scaly skin; I wish demented mortals, ripped and soiled both my tail and fins
I wish to end with this distress, in depths of an abyssal trench, I wish this fish had twist in nets, and finally submit to death!

I wish…

I wish a morbid band of sharks had embarked to drown my symphony,
I wish a swordfish stabbed my heart and the scars bled out in infamy…

But then I realize if I was granted all the wishes I said
I’d just be back where I started, sleeping with the fishes again…

Will I ever lift from this sorrow?


I’m swimming in the depths of depression with no way to set to ascension, as my mind’s spinning in a seeped whirlpool
Suddenly out the corner of my cornea, on the Ocean’s sandy floor in blood, I spot a lying Sea Turtle
I swam towards the sand that centered thee; he must’ve been a century, on how his shell’s design emerged
But his neck gashed by an enemy, and as a dying remedy, he whispered me his final words…


“Through the ups and downs of ocean waters, eventually you’ll find your way
No need to stop at frozen harbors, for in this sea we call life, the tide will change…

And you will Ascend pass the waves"

With that, his eyes began to slightly close, as his carcass slowly faded away
Now, with those words of wisdom, I’ll always remember to saver this day



1 year later

Now...


Now I look at a hurricane straight in the eye, and blind it with my bright complexion
I clear all the burning rain, grayest of skies, and move it when I fight deception
I’m in the right direction as the waters have settled; I’m passing marginal levels as the light’s reflection
My heights extended passed the mark of the devil, I’m leaving sharks with the pebbles as the night intended
My flight’s ascended, as I’m elevating the softest, no more warring scenes of contemplating the hardships
I’ll pass the ninth dimension, reach into the sea and make a so serene constellation of starfish
Now I’m one like a group of sea lions, as the aurora borealis has my mind enchanted
I’m so high with peace I’ll seek Sirens, to form an alluring exploring voyage to find Atlantis
Now there’s no holding catalyst, and no more hazardous frantic bliss
Now my only passing wish, is all see the light without an Angler fish
That there’s hope to the pain and the strife, it's all in the changing tides
Take the past and ocean wave it goodbye, now alas you will elevate your life

To Greater Heights.

And Ascend passed the waters to paradise.

Are You Not Brave / Writing exercise / L.N.

~

Last night I had a crazy dream, not even half of it good though
I must preface by saying, I'm in love - don't worry, this is far from a Love Note
Lola Nash is her name, but back to the dream, a land of lakes and twisting brooks
An orphic place of Luring Numinous, from Lea's Neverending, to Labyrinthine Nooks
I was in the tavern, diffidently sipping mead from a faux-golden cup
Languishing Noticeably, when I was suddenly approached by the Local Nut
There this ogre stood with his oafish mug - gawking at me, saying squat
Then - a tremendous belch, I Laughed Noisily, coughed and gave him a Lazy Nod
He sat besides me ... "Listen Neighbor, might you part with any extra fairy-dust"?
This made me a Little Nervous, but the portly fellow couldn't be Less Nefarious
I untwisted a Lachrymiform Napkin, and gave him a pinch of effervescent matter
"Bless you Squire ... you ever heard of Lord Niflheim, the Legendary Necromancer?"
Tiring of this Leper's Natter, I was sure i'd run him through in a moment
Be it King, or Queen or Lonely Nomad, I don't have time for Ludicrous Notions
But when he produced a curious amulet, i felt compelled to let him finish
"Take a look" - so i did, 4 Lions, Necks stretched inside a Luminescent Nimbus
"Niflheim gave me this blessed trinket, alas, it can only be used by the brave"
"Hold it in a Butter-Cap Mushroom Patch, kneel, and speak Lucifers Name"
I asked, "but what will happen?" - then his jolly smile turned to blackest scorn
Glaring past that Long Nose, that boil-ridden snot-encrusted, Lurching Naricorn
"Are you not brave?" His voice was deep and smooth, it hit me like a sedative
"You should Leave Now" - he seemed less a friendly drunk, more a Lifelong Nemesis
"Oh I am, I'm going to the Butter-Cap Mushroom Patch, would Mister like to come?"
Suddenly the room was icy, misty, as though we were swimming in Liquid Nitrogen
But I could feel the panic rising, that caustic anxiety strumming my throat
"It's alright Squire, follow me" - again, his voice as soft as a Lullabye's Note
I did, it was hard to keep up; an odd sight this plump chap skipping swiftly
Through a forest thick and windy, till there they were, 50 mushrooms Lilting Nimbly
The air was bitter, filmy, I couldn't decide if it was scanty or venomous
I forced a breath anyway, then picked a mushroom from its Lacteous Nebula
It was like a Lingering Nightmare, like viewing the world through smokey glass
I said, "Let's Not do this" ... "But Squire, are you not in love with Lola Nash?"
My heart, it froze, collapsed, I'd so-far helmed my sanity: he capsized the vessel
I felt Limp, Naked, looked at my palm, no mushroom, instead the amulet Lightly Nestled
"Look No further than this - are you not brave? Then you must make the darkest vow"
"In Lucifers Name" - imbued with a shame so wretched, my stomach felt like Lava Now
I knelt, perhaps out of love, perhaps I just wanted this Hell to be finished
Oh ... who am i kidding? I spoke Lucifers Name because I'm a Lecherous Nitwit
Thunder and lightning, the violent roar of the forest ensued, I was helpless
Then i was whisked away through some refulgent conduit, some Luminous Nexus
I awoke abruptly, flustered, I hurdled over my duvet feeling desperate, awful
Later, Nontheless, after a few soporific classes, my day was Lenitive, Normal
But the dream was vivid still, i couldn't wait to get my love alone at last
After the bell rung, I Loitered Nervously, and then I saw her: Lola Nash
I said, with impeccable eloquence, "Sup bitch, how bout we get our freak on"
Her reply was simple but poignant, I think you'll agree: she said, "dream on"

Evil looms of a tyrant, rumored throughout history as clues of a titan..
'cruel as it's violence pursuing this life and piercing moons with a silence',
haunting whispers deafen sounds in depths of a nether dimension
'sharper than water, more silent than air and spread through every ascension
be it thy deadliest message it comes stalking every death that it beckons,
one swing of his scythe bellows blistering sighs vexed with a vengeance,
'tis the black maw of hexes embellished with hellish elements of malevolence;
turn a regiment to excrement in tourniquets' merciless' deception's testaments;
put the world in detriments with my mind that is desolate spewing pestilence,
blood'll leak through your pours as you feel grue, turned blue; fueling an exodus,
gifts that're demonically inclined unearthing; stewing the fumes as an exorcist,
drew from its crevices... stains blanketing floors with sin and bewildering whims;
thou ecliptic doom be an arisen wound lay on a hilt of their kin;
chills in the wind lay siege; hate breeds; pining the kill of a king;
bound in the beginning; "o' heartless one.. the city of Tarsis' son",
bringer of death, the linger of heaven, hell and the Darkest sun,
from harlots and charlatans put in eternal slumber's artist dun -
to the chilled still of a witches tongue lay a grim hindered love,
wind's churn a withered curse; loosening grips of shivered burns;
those that have blamed plague made waste of their coveted omen,
loveless, ferocious; lusting and hopeless as a plummeting crow brinks,
foreshadowing logic; "non compos mentis"; being thee ominous retribution,
calm as I lessen illusions of lies fusing inside a crucifix of gruesome alignments;
awry with chaos, disorder, I crave God's adornments; A misplaced arch of lordship,
bellowing through ancient; seeping through every crack of pavement,
witness the sky fall ashes of cataclysm that ever-last evisceration,
silhouettes of my doppelganger's constantly follow you, all of you,
embedded within every one of your souls, driven 'till your call of truth,
you beckon thee among exit scenes, I now come as this pawn in rouge,
slaying every one faux in lieu of the throne, this is you who has chose,-
every sickly woe in the folds of eternity that emerges the queue of penumbra;
summoning every apparition's gloom, set forth wickedness; strew with it's comer,
you lay under my cover of night, storms churn for me as I am the drummer of blight,
cometh o' might which not even a God to attest thee; unleashing vortexes funneling light...
Death shall begin as I awaken bringing fires to rages, squires in faceless dismay,
ashes will be o' the coming of all beckoned courageous; decayed; for this place,
where rigor mortis be laid, rooted from the stems of history traced in the graves...

Title: Winston Churchill's Masonic Minutemen (Vulgar Collab).

Genocide..
I'm the man, the myth, his legendary pen beside the candlestick
the point of view, misconstrued, and the truth inside the manuscript
A man with wisdom, peeking greater than all of Britains steeples
Peaceful, Once I wrote a book about an english speaking people
Deep cerebral, dark, in depth, the secrets lying on your chest
Lies you've kept, I was in the nightmares adolf hitler often dreamt
Lost in bed, off with his head, where he shared his mothers warmth
I was something pure, before the world would host another war
My name was underscored, next to the rules I penned with ink
I made aquaintences with Roosevelt and John F. Kennedy

Vulgar..
M. Carbine on the dresser, his walking stick a buttered-mantle hickory
Aboard the Sputnik tram he seeked to lead the motherland to victory
As blitzkriegs from the east roasted these punctured lambs of history
Poor Stalin, he’d had enough in his plate, and more problems
War college author and scholar with foreknowledge from Lord Monckton
Winston was a porch golem, stony faced; appearance of a simpleton slug
Pilgrim with smug expressions, pilferage of the Chechens
building an upper section of London, schillings from some election
Desert airfields, winter marshlands, rivers of blood in seconds…
A single question was left: was this a political thug, or legend?

Genocide..
Pinnacle punk intentions or innocent love for peasants with humble motives
Never know I guess, history was nice to him cause he's the one who wrote it
Never qouted until his prophecies more than all appeared correct
people wouldnt pay attention, welcome to blood, toil, tears & sweat
Became the Jewish advocate, after being misunderstood as bluffing
Had some enemies as well, but that's because he stood for something
Ditches dug and bodies dumped, was weird how he'd percieve rumors
Predicted India would fall apart to rascals, rogues and freebooters
And once the trees rooted, good or bad the seeds expand
"Watch lies go half around the world fore the truth put on its pants"

Vulgar..
Orator steps forward, Duke of the Sudan with tubas in two hands
Playing music for the masses, the room’s illumined by huge lamps
He receives newcomers with an envious grace, a sentient face
Telegram enters the place, Enemy base: British Intelligence - RAPED!
He said we’ll fight them on the beaches with raw metal til the smog settles
And God trembles from the frosty ashes of those Holocaust rebels
Wallops marched towards temples, heads tilted, muzzled in close breadth
Because the greatest wars were always the ones with the most dead
The pearly harbor gates opened, in remembrance of this everlasting breeze
U-boats up his arse but had tricks up his sleeve that’d put Leningrad at ease
He’d never have to leave - unless sweeped off into the Cambridge abyss
Or if the elections came calling… for a royal family switch

Genocide..
While innocent by-standers get hit, poparatzi cameras like cancerous cells
Media hell, And churchills face always explains all the answers itself
Ring the Chancellors bells, with a phone call or a knock at the door
If your so sure you'll be stopping the war, then what you locking it for
Old fashioned doctor kavorkian, swastika ornaments, opera accordians
Where talk is only talk, and its never heard by the popular audiance
German helicopter choppers chopping the oxygen, air waves are a mess
Kamakaze bombers, panzer drivers, front line survivors are praying to death
Holocaust chambers taking your breath, blame alien aircrafts for crashing
While they reverse engineer one, the less fortunates beg for rations

Vulgar..
He’d have lucid dreams of English troops in need, hibachis gallopin’
Hibakusha paladins in banquet tuxedos surrounded by Saharan talismans
He was a silver tortoise, slanderous, commandant of fifty Florence analysts
But the gefilte corpses spanned the mist - thanks to a vicious Polish vampiress
Bygones were capturers, trench warfare became more than a tad berserk
More squadrons massacred than an army of barbecued warthogs on placid turf
The Gestapo had collapsed the earth, there were Third Reich’s secret plots
Journeys to Atlantis uncovered the true Ground Zero without a thermite piece of rock
He held a scabbard that glistened like it belonged to Saladin’s mistress
The Battle of Britain, such a splendid view from the caverns of Lisbon..

- - - Updated - - -

*ROUND 3