Buh...beee....where am i??

Ok ....that felt scary...
what the hell??

Rafaga en clave de RE

One thing to consider, my dear twilight knight...
is that we have a similar purpose...
we both protect the same crown...
we both protect the same crown...
we both protect the same crown...
our methods may differ
but the techniques have the same

Purpose.

We both protect the same crown...

Wait a minute....

WHAT the HELL was that all about???

Crescendo

Thou art the moon's sharpest blade...
thou art the toungue that vanquishes her ills.
Does thou not see the revelations?
thine blade shimmers with my light
as does her veil...
in thy crusade against i
has thou not noticed you are fighting
on both sides?
Ye hath become a knight of twilight
One from Artemis, One from Apollo
Ye protect both, seek a balance between.
So inner skies may shimmer peaceful
thy souls may find truth.
Negotiations with the core
Meridians drink the ocean
Sheath thy steel for now...
It is a time for contemplation.

Zurp

I recommend not having a job that requires a lot of stitting down.
it makes you yearn for long lush valleys where the feet may freely roam...
it makes you wish you were somewhere else at the time.
It reminds you that sometimes all work and no play makes an artist into a victim of his own art.


It's nice to dettach and go out every once in a while. Breathe some fresh air...
My ass hurts and i feel like jumping around...
I HATE HAVING TO SPEND SO MUCH TIME IN FRONT OF THIS DAMN SCREEN.

Although...i do get a lot of good stuff written...draw a little...write lyrics...
But i'm starting to see flaws in my metric...

Revelation 2:22

I just noticed something...
Why...am i....writing....so ....much?????

Boom! Ladies and Gentlemen!

Notice all these things i've written?
would you believe me if i told you
i've written them for no one?
Maybe i. Just me. For Myself.
That's right... everything from the start.
I've been writing for... me, me, me.
That girl doesn't exist...she's just a fantasy.
This vault is a dreamscape into another dimension
where she exists...she whom is me, but perfectly contrary.
Is this starting to make sense to you?
Because it did for me a while back.
Have you understood why it is so difficult for me to react to this?
Seeing as if she knows my weakness and hits me with it.
Do you understand no one has been able to fill the shoes
of the mystical maiden with so many names...?
Oh ...now i know she's real...

Of friendship. (En tributo a George Mcfly)

As much as she knows you
I know you just as well
Just as much, but only contrary
You're my brother, the one that's been my friend throughout
this entire decade, the one that people mistake for me.
The one that's leaving for Florida come next month
to seek his fate far from this little island of redundance.
You're a reflection of our fighting and debating and even
being split over a girl, over 2 girls... making up because
in the end we are brothers...and i have to say goodbye.
So all of sudden you come in and your argument sounds just about the same
only creepier, only darker, only female. You're one of the Moon's knights
when the sun's knights decide to sit this one out because they're too busy
remaking their lives. I can be you for a second, just enough to understand
i know you already, the doodler, you helped me craft a lot of things when all i had were words
colors, paint and a lot of social spreading. The vase with the funny hat, the vase with the glasses on. Oh these two worlds....

Here's a tribute to the original Radioheader: "Orange juice, Orange Juice, Orange Juice" = "The rain drops, The rain Drops", The original Bjorker, The original Mr.-made-me-listen-to-music-i-didn't-like-because-it-wasn't-metal-enough monger, has his picture taken with anybody, knows everybody, gets by on his happy sense of self and others, mr. can only be his true self when he's with us, only with us, fashionable as no one, my friends: George McFly and Charly Brown.

Ironically friendlier than i
Moon, do you notice how funny this is?

wELL, I'm out of the closet! I'm officially a MS paint artiste...i know that's not a very big deal now...but hey!

Voz

Trust me, i've been fine.
I've had fun, and i've learned a lot
expanded my mind. Evolved. Sought inner peace.
Found it. You could say i remembered who i was
and i've become who i am supposed to be.
I found me.

It doesn't necesarily mean i've been happy this whole time, because i admit it, i felt cold
and i've dissapointed (and damaged) more than a few people that tried to play "savior" with me.

I know me now. I know my place. What i'm supposed to do. Where i'm headed.
Although it may all seem displaced at this point because i am barely at the point of
discovery.

I'm sorry if i'm way too honest for my own good...but that's one thing i've always been.
Fucking honest. Even when it hurts.

Sometimes i forget how nice i can be, how sugary coated and sweet. Charlie reminds me when i'm being too much of a bastard that i am deep down....not much of a bastard after all...because despite the darkness i've had to cut through... as you can imagine someone with a High Priestess ...which one was it?? the one that awakens what is dead within people?? Judgement? lol... i can't remember...

I'm a just a man...a flesh robot.

But ....if i'm an ordinary flesh and blood robot like all of them...then it is my duty to reach superhumanity, constantly evolving. Knowing deep down that my path lay right in front of me and my faith is un-killable. I don't claim to be perfect...i never was....i just know what i felt, that's what i went along with...til the end.

I'm not a monster...and it's not what i want to be...i am an animal just like all of you...
a creature of fire and ice. Mist and dust. I'm not death although i take the death card often, switching between one wave and the next...hoping that the next one lead me to where i want to go....luckily i've learned a thing or two about grabbing a tidal wave by it's liquid throat and directing it wherever i want.

I am change seeking settlement i suppose
That's what's destiny is.

Hopefully it leads to being filthy rich and capable of doing just about anything. I do believe i can.
Do you?

Diga "Yia nigga!" a la pirateria

Well...yeah...
Chevelle and King Crimson
will never play together because
of...

This is a tree

.King
.Tool
.Chevelle

I like Chevelle...but it's diluted a little.
My compadre James which is a puritan DESPISES Chevelle.
I don't particularly agree with him, since Chevelle has helped me pass the time
and it seems like they FINALLY found their own voice....even if just SLIGHTLY, because the guitars are pure "Opiate" era Tool.

This is evidence that you must evolve!
just look at Tool!
These are dudes that WILL NEVER get stuck on ground zero.
Much like Chevelle has done for several years.

Don't you folks just love stagnation?
that's one sick, perverted, fucked up little word. Isn't it?
It was like instead of saying "Hi Bobby", people in Sodom would say "Stagnations, Bobby! How are you today?"
I made an oath once in my life that i would NEVER
stagnate again, because this is a perspective shutdown.
When i say SHUTDOWN i mean SHUTDOWN. It practically
Kokina Clutches your perspective until it passes out and needs
a bucket of cold beer...i mean water.

Errrr...anyway...where was i again?
I don't know...i forgot...
I still have all my original CDs!
Booklets and everything!

You know what i absolutely hated??
POWER METAL...
In the 90's everybody sounded like Stratovarius, Rhapsody, blah blah and Helloween.
HOLY FUCK Europe was ROTTING in Power metal.

At times like those that's when Judas Priest and Maiden quietly snickered...
I actually dug the Judas Priest album "Jugulator" with that Ripper Owens dude, but that's cuz
Downing and Tipton and the guys went OUT OF THEIR WAY to not sound like power metal in the least. That's what i love about these guys.

Now Maiden...well Maiden stayed true, can't argue with that.
Where did Maiden come from?
The Chicken or the Egg?
I remember my very first band we had about 4 Maiden covers, 2 Metallica covers, 1 Black Sabbath (Which song do you think it was? LOL) ...and ONE freaking original song.
I used to suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck so much it wasn't really funny.
Luckily that's all changed...
It's a big mystery to many how i've gotten this far...
i wouldn't say i'm AWESOME or anything like that (But deep inside i do believe it so it may be true).

In the end i'd just like to say...
How do you get from King Crimson to Chevelle again????

The bittersweetness A.K.A. Rebelling against the invisible

Intro
*Keyboards mimicking church organs*
*gasp*
Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa *couch cough* aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh
*Slow down part followed followed by 4 hand-silenced Cymbal crashes*
*Breakdown hardcore polyrhythmic, Nothing-era Meshuggah styled drumming with chugging guitars*
*The church organ keyboard parts seem out of place at this point so the keyboardist stagedives*
*Sudden 4 second Silence*

Areeeee you reaaaaaaaaady?
(This is the most fucked up song i could envision...it wouldn't be impossible to play though)


You see i hate one thing...people assume. People misconceive.
People...do you know what assumption does to you?
(I'm venturing into Burgeoisie territory with this)
It makes an ass out of u and me. (Get it? Get it?)
Yes, i know that was cheap..."A pack of bubblegum" cheap.

What am i referring to. Well mostly...
when people see faith in others...
just faith by itself...
they assume it has something to do with
A)Catholicism
B)Christianity
C)Other religions
D)Power metal
E)Christian power metal

Personally, i do not like to discuss the causes of my own faith and intensity and all that.
I do not like to speak of religion because it is offensive to some folks...and not everybody
is an asshole for being a "Jesusfreak". Personally i think Atheists are taking this atheism thing religiously... instead of sounding like just plain old disagreement with any sort of spiritual connections, it sounds like plain old misanthropy. And trust me, it has SHIT to do with the music you listen to, it doesn't have anything to do with people you call your friends, it doesn't have anything to do with your own gnostic view of the world....not everybody agrees with YOU (deal with it).

What i don't like is seeing people that set up a configuration that adapts their disbelief with their personal hatred or misanthropy. These are the kind of people that are really smart, and even nice underneath the armored spike vest. However...they are viciously hateful of stuff...

Dude...this is like...even the musicians that play the sort of shit that describes your point of view, even those guys, those "heroes" of yours...even THEY have contradicted themselves because of certain exceptions that they encounter...that completely fucking blows away a closed up point of view they had associated with their own spiteful, hateful, miserable, deppressive wisdom...

It makes great music. But it's like heroin, sure, the first few times it gives you a lot to write and sing about, til it fucking KILLS you to death!

Note: Being killed to death is not pleasant. And you should not try it at home, work or any other location.

Spawn, which is one of the stupidest storylines in comic book history, mainly it's impact was due to it's satanic nature of design...his power would eat up his soul each and everytime he used it, eventually it would consume him and he would end up being a pubic hair in Beelzebub's Mosquito crotch.

Anyway, back to the damned icons contradicting themselves...this isn't about like, them saying..."I was wrong, it was really gaytarded on my part to say Jesus sucks Hitler's cock in a gay night club in hell's version of the Himalayas.". Cuz' no, sometimes saying things like that gets them HEARD by people who eventually read past the SHOCK value messages and bump into their other "important" messages (Which is like Brian Posehn said, mostly ripped off Ayn Rand or that Nietzche guy), unless you're Maynard James Keenan (Who is Aries, and rules).

This is because the universe is full of combinations of things...that eventually crawl up inside your cranium and they don't necesarily decode that which is already hard-wired into your system...they simply affect the bits and pieces that are making your words and thoughts and images come out like the breath of a freshly rotten Orc.

Hate is immature...anger however...as i stated before...is fucking GREAT. It's a constructive emotion.

There's a factor i've noticed within some of my heroes... which is something i share in relation to them, when you are a "damned" icon it tends to weigh on your shoulders, you see, you're representing a grand scale of reality which is ugly, to say the least...except that it is easy to lose yourself in what you are preaching. You may just become a monster, even to yourself, a monster that eats up all that's right in the world so you can keep your little enemy placebos awake...which eventually eat you up by the insides...and fuck your life up. I've seen this in many, many, many, many people, i, myself am a victim of preaching a horrible negativity...which has freed me somewhat of the darkness in my soul...but it comes back after a while...because what you are sending is a reflection of the insides of that chamber of torture known as your soul.

In simpler words you can spend a lifetime preaching about how much the world sucks...but you can't become one of the reasons why it does. You have to be a nice guy, underneath the "World's Favorite Anti-Hero-Asshole" that they have to play onstage.

Once you admit to yourself...you HAVE to change...and you have to let go of your own views a little and even fucking adapt them to something a little more feasible. That's whan you can actually talk wisely, about whatever bugs you. You better be doing it to help, not to fuck up and do damage, because you feel like doing damage...that's maggot shit, and the thing is...it's a lot like the darkside of the force and all that shit...we may dig evil and it's little nuisiances, cuz evil is cool...

But true evil has a lot to do with the emotional...and the traumas....and the sticky black material that makes us see everything in shades of black. Black is beautiful...but only to those that see the light within it, you can see the black in the light...because the light tends to be "hypocritical"...

This means to become Darth Maul. you can say..."lol...that Yoda guy sucks Count Doku cock...and that's why the dark side pwns jedi n00Bs, i think i saw Yoda doing cocaine yesterday..he's such a fucking hypocrite...he told me i was an asshole for drinking Starcruiser fluid, but yet HE'S the main green backwards talking midget master of the GOOD side of the force, you see? this JUSTIFIES that i MUST be an asshole...forever and ever, even if i have to kill little children with my face spikes..."

Yet, some light is pure...because it has learned to cope with it's own fetid side, turning it into something really sweet, in it's own bitter taste.... I love women whom i can call "Bittersweetie" ...because they're truly something unique in this golfball.

I don't claim to be one of a kind...or to have found some sort of thing only i know...i have met people that think like me...more often than not, these folks are depressed as hell...why?
because they're stuck, trust me, it's EASY to get stuck once you digest all the stuff.

Do you know why i love simple, brainless shit? It's because it dettaches me a little from what i've had to deal with over a lifetime of struggling, (although there are people in this world who have gone through WORSE), so maybe my plate of beans isn't as dark, dank or murky...but that's something i actually appreciate...since to get smart and to get wise...you don't have to despise things, you don't have a hippie about it either...since aggression is inevitable...

Ah...but smart aggression. Aggression with an actual purpose?
that's a pink elephant! that's a nazi jew.
You know what? it's not. It's the way things should be.
Yet they aren't because sometimes we look so much to the outside...(looking for targets...and even some targets that are enjoyable to fight with...*ahem*) not to notice the inside factors that make irreparably blind with the H word.

Do you know what strength REALLY is?
It's being able to look at all your own little faults...
laughing at them...first of all. And then DOING SOMETHING ABOUT IT.
You don't have to follow a system, no matter how liberating it may be to you (or at least seem like it) but that's just internal xenophobia, and you can treat it. You can beat it into submission.
I'm not preaching at you, i'm just givin' you a point of view, like slipping a tab of ecstasy down your throat and kicking up surround sound dj's around....

Have you ever found somebody you love to hate? it happens...usually this is a double edged knife...and sometimes it's something you'd never seen or tasted before...
it's something you can't possibly hate, but you end up arguing with it, incontrollably, addictively, insanely.... you keep hanging on to vines even when you've reached the side of the jungle which are buildings, and concrete...you manage somehow to find invisible vines...

This is fucking insane....it's fun....but you must never let it degenerate into deviancy, depravity...
What i mean by these words are intangible concepts...which are identified by my soul's radar, (usually it slips by regular people)l...emotional deviancy is something that's a part of the concept of evil i was refering to...like turning something really awesome into monkey shit. That's baaaad.

One more thing...you can be as funny or as overblown as you like...and still sound smart...

It's very similar to saying...Jesus is a nazi! and then saying something really deep about how democracy is just fascism with girl-deodorant on. It's just something that gives it a little bit of style.

I'm gonna get drunk now...it's friday night...what am i doing in front of this computer? FUCK

*Outro full of double pedaling, drum and tom fills, and of course, the guitars being held face first into the amps as to create as much feedback as humanly posible*

*silence*

*ONE LAST CYMBAL AND GUITAR BLAST BAAAAAAAOOOOOOWWW*

Thank you very fucking much, we love you motherfuckers!!!!

Deesclosure:

The points of views herein expressed by the Often sociopathic Morales are mere lapses of endorphinized overflows into his body. Much like his singing ability, writing ability and others. Are heavily influenced by a lot of soul searching mixed with heavy production of endorphins. They should not be taken as serious medical advice, Morales Inc. does not accept legal responsability for people attempting to follow the advice of a freak whom mostly reads and writes a lot and mixes it all with heavy cursing, rock & metal & electronic music, happy-bitter philosophies and/or the scent of Feld tip markers (black). Being killed to death is however compensated by courts of law outside these 8 bit dimensions, usually by means of a free toy and Chicken nuggets.

Breakdancing Buddha

I don't need to be convinced
You don't need to be convinced
We're just frustrated, but our frustrations are incredible
Our frustrations have potential. I believe in frustration
much like i believe in the power of hatred, specially after it dies...because that's when it matures...

The intense admiration, coronation of everything you speculated.
It's feverishly better than you expected.

Regurgitates frustration again.
Like a blind cycle.
Frustratingly fun and constructive.
Embrace anger, not hate.
Love the engineer not the arsonist.
Although the arsonist is even necesary in this particular equation.
He's eventually caught, jailed and put under observation...

And Prometheus extolled, unchained and untold...
decides to open up a sushi bar...
for no other reason than to be completely random
and shave off the intensity a little bit, so it's not too stiffling and it doesn't lose it's ability to build palaces from mud and ash.

Emotions are a beautiful thing.

A lof of fucking money...

My mother was a witch....she was burned aliiiiive....
Nah just kidding...
Fuck Diamondhead....fuck em.

Anyway... this song is called....

*Imitating George"CG"Fisher* A looooot of fuckiiiiing moneeeeeeyyyyyy
*High hat marks 3 tsh tsh tsh*

Bllaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarghhhh

(Yes, i'm aware this would be impossible as a song...but i don't careeeee lalalala)

I was raised mostly by women...i'd like to say in some sort of amazon village...
although it did seem like that, i was trained from a very young age to be overloved, overcared for, overquestioning. Why dad was always away...why he was so selfish he couldn't just show up, one day...he dissapeared altogether, making the ocassionaly random appearance every 10,000 days.

So i was mostly raised by raging amazons, theater women, insane women, hysterical women, i was knee deep in the raging storm of emotions of a estrogen tornado. Ever constant, ever haywire...
I was abandonded by a sad little man, and embraced by females...taught to love and to fight at the same time...

So yeah, make fun, i feel like a girl feels, though i'm sincerely dirty at heart...i know a toss up. But everything in my life is a mixture... One voice talks about big bussiness and stability and making $$$$ ...and the other one speaks of her years in art and how crazy and fulfilling it has been...

One seems emotionally dettached whilst the other seems emotionally focused...one shows love through actions...and the other shows love through not doing much except a lot of complaining, a lot of fear for the future, constant prophecies of financial ruin and $$$ , and of course, remaining numb and oblivious...

You could say i've described an absent father and a loving yet at times, psychotic, mother.
Always keeping in mind all my aunts, my mom's dancer friends...and just a bunch of estrogen...always...voicing an opinion above my little head, always looking up...not understanding it all...but capturing most of it.

Taught that abandonment is abandonment...no matter how many times they show up with fake plastic smiles, i always see the big A of abandon hanging like a 200 ton crucifix from naked necks. This is a psychological flaw i've had to deal with, a trigger, a mechanism...

For me, personally, it's a big wall to climb over. Since it's hard wired right down to the vaults of my psyche.

It's also a complete mystery why i started writing in the first place...i started at age 12...but then again, i started playing movies in my head at 5...walking barefoot in the backyard for hours...making strange noises to describe exactly what was going on in my head....

My perfect version of a cartoon, a videogame, a book, an exceedingly well written story...
I started imagining things...without writing them down...just movies i played in my mind...
what i actually wrote about was ....shit, and it all rhymed at first...it came naturally, but it was shitty shitty shitty...

It eventually got better...and better...and better...

I still have no idea...why i started writing in the first place...it must be something innate. Something i developed in my quietness, i was withdrawn by nature, i didn't speak i just made a lot of expressions with my face, and hand gestures, no words ...All i know is...i captured all these odd frequencies... and they came out in the strangest manners.

I played the Epica storyline for years (something in my head) . Epica was something i made...a 3 part story... It eventually died off. It evolved and grew and i changed the plot a thousand times...though i always remembered it...until i made it so complex...it was impossible to remember... I think some of my oldest friends remember because i would gather them and tell them the story...and tell them we'd be famous if we all became videogame makers...programmers...and shit...like the guys from Squaresoft, Nobuo and the other japanese guy.

This would all be a mess...nixed out by the coming of age, sex, alcohol, the increasingly difficult challenges, working, living in hell whilst having an obviously advanced mentality...which i have to conceal... so that people don't think i'm ...weird...or anything like that.
However, with so much interference and static...
thus, would render such a heavy duty mind asunder...
specially with the coming of heartbreak...dissilussion, and sad shit, of that nature.

Luckily there's something odd within me, i recently started calling him "The king crab", i call him, otherwise known as Charlie, i pay him overtime to look within and keep stuff clean, everything in it's right place...
Painfully enough Charlie has swallowed up all the love i've been given over the past few years...making him completely drugged up at times... he has consumed the intense beauty i've been exposed to so that his insides resemble nothing short of Valhalla. Charlie is sort of the "me" i associated with writing...

An infinite dreamer...i really connect with him in ways through physical bliss....
not to render your minds (whomever is reading) into complete perversion
but not all of it is of a "sexual" nature...also exercising...and the ocassional meditation.
singing...

Charlie does all that for me, Charlie is sort of like a girl, in the sweetest sense of the word...he's not a fag, since he does LOVE the sight of femenine beauty, he's not really one of your standard metrosexual boys either...

he's just...Charlie...

Kind of young at heart...an addict of niceness...and beauty (all kinds, but mostly internal)
I kind of hate it at times, when he gets so excited, and i know there's not that much to be excited about...He's mainly my storywriter...


I was mistaken when i labeled Charlie de la vie as having been the DeathRam Flame of Hades known as Charles de La Morte...i was so wrong...

De la Morte exists within me too...the greatly vicious snake, lord maggot king.
Satan, if you will. It's just that i keep the bastard quiet long enough...

But Charlie, regardless of his good-guy persona, has a particularly healthy friendship with Charles...

I,personally, do not understand Charles... i fear him, rather.

It is my opinion that Charlie is a moron for even trying to speak or negotiate with the Maggot king... he has no idea what he's getting himself into...
i would describe it as a hero trying to play hero with the herokiller.

You could say that Charles is responsible for my intense love for the heavy shit...he's the voice of darkness ...that emerges from my heavily ravaged vocal chords...

Mainly,
he was by himself all these years.
Being the sole metal vocalist...inside the framework...
Very lonely, yet intensely desired...

His aura causes...from what i've noticed...intense, violent reactions...within women...
great admiration from dudes... (whom are metal musicians as well)

It would seem like Charles would devour charlie merely by smiling spitefully in his pasty little face...
Yet, life surprises me, yet again...when i notice truth in Charles eyes...as he speaks benevolently to the sugar coated King Crab...somehow, he manages to calm down the serpents neath' the maggot king's fine bussiness suit, he actually listens to the goody two shoes fool.

Eventually Charles is stricken with an unknown feeling, something like admiration...or even a hint of sympathy...rather odd, considering...he despised these things.

So as a reward...
Charles teaches Charlie to sing, which should be mostly growls and vicious hatred...

Charlie misreads the melody of a femur bone smashing smiling faces, posing as a deviantly deranged xylophone...
and in the perfectly bizarre study and oddly inhuman mathematical ecuation....
Charlie learns how to sing...

And he does it beautifully...nothing like the doomsday firehound expected....
It's rather insulting...but this pretty voice is all that Charlie understood...
a fair melody...of actual emotional honesty...

In the process...Mr. De La Morte finds a pen Charlie dropped as he was dancing around
the filth chamber... All of sudden, the notebook on his nightstand evolves from a mystery to
a not so stagnant possibility...

So as you can see....
artistically speaking...
i am a disaster...

Now i have 3 vocalists ...
And for god's sake...3 writers...
What the hell am i supposed to do with myself, my life?
More importantly...
Will i do it all by myself?
I'm gonna need a lot of fucking money....

Wham Bam Boom!

I understand clearly
the lapse, the collapse and the relapse
butterflies and eyes
teasing the iron feather in the moonlight
of a thousand midnights during the cold war
stopping trade and severed communications
between kingdoms
Those late nights in the lab in the backroom
wondering in the quietness and accompanied solitude
a small invisible bridge of saphire hazy, invisible tears yet perfectly ennerved at the other end
of the hall...seems so small from the privacy of a darkened room...or the screeching voices of a saturday night, quietly drifting down the hall whilst being awake..."i wonder what you're up to?...you're thinking about me again, aren't you...i KNOW you are" ...it never stopped happening as the silhouettes around never bothered to question...and even if they did, we're quite excellent actors...out of bitterness and stress, something we couldn't handle...maybe it was inexperience...maybe we didn't exactly know how to do it...

Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes...art rages out from the only open mouth...a method of expression
to sort of explain our happiness and intending to dissect our dissilusion, our depression. A jungle of strings, imagery and fantasy ....all wonderful reality warpings of the harlequin. For Pinocchios in this case, are tools, merely brushes injecting life into an otherwise hollowed white facade...you may not always see things clearly, you may see a few things warped right out of context, you may not ever see the whole horizon...but it's all in your eyelids, always when you close them, paintings of images you've likely dreamed, yet never seen.

Like little children, ages 6 and 7
the 1920's dry law we've dried, like a dream-a-holic's desert up in smoke, cough and you will see me banging my head, and a microphone stand barely missing my forehead... breathalizer reads ..."well what can i say?" ...and the highway patrolmen shrug their shoulders and hop on mechanical horses, it's time to chase after Bigfoot, the paparazzi said he headed north...

They've taken our wheels...where are we supposed to go?

That's when we remember ...we're in the middle of nowhere...and you seem much shorter than you did 5 minutes ago...
and then we're playing in the woods, in the dark, with a boxful of matches, sometimes i feel i'm turning you into a pyromaniac.

God, if only i weren't one also...
You see,
The more i burn the more you burn
And,
we're proving a point, i think....

I don't wanna go past the line...however,
Those 20 some years that went by
maybe it's necesary for us to be children
make up for lost time, maybe i've known you forever
maybe i was just born elsewhere, maybe you were mine forever, maybe you were just born elsewhere. I'm sorry i left in the first place , you're sorry you did too.
I understand pretty well you had to, so i hope you understand why i did also.

Do you understand your own questions? Or do you already know what i'm going to say...
Something around or similar to you but completely the opposite...

I love the fact we're so young that we forget we've been through it all.
I love the fact we play around this like a merry go round...of green flaming trees with purply flames...it's not like acid, mostly like our minds work.

It has to stop somewhere, somehow...
As i crawl in the cannon, there's white paint on my face...and a big red talking nose...
I hear a BANG and i see a life full of mazes and transformations...i see people drinking away their lives in a colmado, and i see people leaving to find their destination elsewhere, and i see people trading themselves for someone new, that someone they met bought for them at a store, on discount, from a short and quite suspicious looking Chinese man, in his 60's, with a Fu Manchu- type moustache. I see change and i see stagnation. I see life and i see death. I wish others weren't so dependent on what i have to say...here and there, and everywhere.

Because at this moment i've become a bullet...it's what i choose...
Heading forward in slow motion...
I could be the bullet aimed at you bit hitting mere centimeters away
into a wall where i materialize and become i.
Right next to you, most likely, concused, most likely delirious and with an enormous bump on my forehead...

Would you hold me as i'm watching pretty colors flowing in front of my eyes...
Would you pretend you hit your head against the wall too?
So you could see the pretty butterflies dancing on pegasus wings?
I may be hallucinating from bloodloss...
but baby you're the clearest image of everything my eyes have never seen.
As you wipe the blood away you expose your silvery crystal wings, become somewhat of an angel, you might say...i know there's a devil in there...
i just hope she knows she's looking straight into Metatronic eyes

When the it's darkest
you always turn into the light...
When it's brighest you always drink up the daylight
so that your eyes become the sun
and you shimmer on everyone
that's why they love you and would glady jump in front of a speeding bullet to save you.
I and i understand them so clearly not even they understand why.

I'm glad to say, i've lost my damn mind.

Gift-licious

A gift is just a gift sometimes, maybe life decides we fight so hard, it's time to give us something for our efforts, it's not necesarily something you need to have, it's simply something you want to have.

It's something that grows with you not out of you, it's something that makes life a little sweeter, a bit nicer, something that changes your life forever, and eventually question your sense of independence...what if said "gift" were gitfted with thought and reasoning, what if it had already thought the same thing over a thousand times?

What if said "Gifts" were independent as well?
Does that make them stop being gifts and turns them into freedom fighters, sorry, "Freedom Gifters"?
Does that strip them of their beautiful nature and clouds them into cold, cold reasoning?
Some things in life are just gifts, beautiful gifts, endless gifts, priceless treasures...
If we bite they may bite back, if we apreciate them as they appreciate us it makes all the sense in the world.

If the wrapping is nice, it doesn't mean the inside isn't thrice as much...
Some surprises in life come with even better ones neath' the wrapping.
Some folks are just excellent gift givers, some folks just make themselves a human gift.
They have no idea of it.

Thumper's questioning.

There's a huge pile of anything where the horizon goes
Life's short...would you do the same for me if the tables were turned?
Would you dance to the music? would you stay for the tea party?
would you move the earth and sky to open up a pathway for my travelling feet?
would you limit me if i were to get ahead of myself? Would you join me where i would go?
or would you simply join me for the show? would you cease to be an actress on a t.v. screen?
would you defend me if they accused me? if they refused me? if they would point the blaming finger, knowing nothing outside these walls? would you contain me in your heart without fear?
would you simply walk by my side down a sunset bathed street in the heart of heaven, or through deepest hell?
would you bleed just to fill me? would you suffer if you couldn't have me? would you leave once you did, only to run back, after 5 steps? and if it had to end, would you still remain a friend? would you help me grow, despite anything? would you be there and smile? would you put emotional needs aside, to satisfy mine? would you simply stand in neutral as i'm screaming at the sky, wait a few seconds then run and just let me melt in your arms? would you come and protect me from the ravens pecking through the skin to get to the soul? would you lie just to keep me? would you die on a liquid screen, in a tragic scene , resurrect in the flesh, just to meet me all over again?

Would i?

i would, so, could you?

Draconic

I ain't pretending...
I'm as much Dragon as The buddha of your mending.
Smiling at all the fireflies.
Kissing in my hands.
War can be so beautiful...
peacemongers would have you believe in them but unprecise hands de-tune.
Hence, fools know nothing about peace if they know not of war.
War can be so priceless, don't you think so too?

Nothing is not.

The Great Silent Feather.

Waaaaaah...boooohoooo....
*tears* noooo.

You know exactly what i'll do to you
You know how every fiber of your being will recite me
words in the tone of moan, scream and intense breaths
You know my words, i've overused my energy
I've shut up now...My emotions are ablaze
Valleys are ash, Water bursts through the wall to drown the parched throat,
Tornados dancing with silver diamond lightning
Painful elegies will be hung with incandescent beauty
Label perversion and intensity with disease and soullessness
Baby, this account overfloweth with raging balances that numb the eyes of the rich man, for unlimited sources of ways to make a human body insane with obscene undeniability... dripping like oceans from a holocaust...making the ugly so fucking perfect, so beautiful, that the greatest artist remains catatonic...envious...the memory will fade of little plastic men, for in time you'll only scream my name, eyes locked, endless tides bathing me...
Sweetly accented, only dreamed about, hearing the voice in highs and lows, touch, lava fever hot...this deathbed is a fountain...this river is a speck compared to you, these trees are burning in you, this world i call you, is mine...and i will do with it as i please.

Like god creating, painting, feeling within you, outside you, around you
Trust me, you won't say no. You'll dry the ocean through your flesh.

This everflow i've learned to manage.
Now it won't kill me, it just feeds me with life...
the things i'd do to you....


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I've no words to describe. Exageration will not suffice.
But i'm not really, SUGGESTING anything.
It's all a dream....an echo behind the wall of noise.
A feather floating outside your window
bursting into flames as soon as in contact with your skin...