Murder minded, Stomach turned into A cemetery, Intestinal tract is Where they’re all Fucking buried, The mere thought of Giving it up, to you, Seems so fucking scary!
Your appetite is Built upon genocide, Lacking any discipline; just Consume whether it’s grilled or fried, Not brave to consider the families Rotting away inside of your gut, And you scowl at this mention, Too neck-deep in the mud to Give a fuck!
Walking graveyard Sustained by death, To live you must steal All of their breaths, How you salivate at the Blood on your plate, More and more is all you crave, Needing constant murder to satiate!
Don’t preach shit to me About liberty, Yammering about oppression When you demand that They shouldn’t be free, I don’t wish to hear it, Excuse after excuse, Championing control, Perpetuator of woe, Enjoying the abuse!
Antlers covered in the blood of another Who thought they could just slaughter In this holy place the beast and their own Have always known to be home, Entrails decorating sharpened bone like a crown, Hooves trudging through the blood That drips upon the ground, Eager to bring back another trophy So it could be mounted on the wall, But now their insides are mounted Upon a cervid’s head, the would-be killer forced to crawl…
Teeth clasp around the throat, On the blood, the bastard chokes, Several pairs of jaws from the pack Dismembering while the trespasser’s on their back Claws digging through the chest As the fucker’s laid to rest, Spilling guts while they eat, Life’s liquid leaves the body and slowly depletes, Dirt stained red, A potential killer dead, Jugular is leaking, Blood junkie no longer fiending…
Beaks peck at the sockets Of a scumbag with shells Nestled in their pockets, Slumped up against a trunk With the roots growing ‘round their ankles, Body long since having long been slumped, Food for the little ones that nibble at the flesh, Delighted to have food so fresh, Flora and fauna nourished by the dripping crimson, Having foiled another scumbag’s mission, Branches and bark having made their incisions, And those who don’t partake Gaze on appreciatively, for this specimen that tried to Walk among them was never, to them, ever great…
Now I ain’t gonna bullshit you And tell you shit ain’t bad!
That a better tomorrow’s right up ahead, So don’t be so down and sad!
Look outside, look all around, Gaze upon this sorry state of affairs, Can you look me in the eye without a hint of deceit and Honestly tell me you aren’t scared?
Hope! O’ how I wish I could, But I’d have better luck at the end of a rope! Woe! Does hope, even the smallest chance, do me good As the suffocating reality starts to constrict and choke?
Death is always grinning Just around the corner, Perhaps as a friend or a foe…
Cheerfully waving from its position, That old and frightful, mysterious, Enigmatic bringer of both chaos and order, Idly standing by, head tilted to the side, Waiting for our only chance to be forever blown…
Point is, things are looking rough, So hard to try and remain tough, You’d rather give up and die!
Don’t let em win, No matter how hard they Wear you thin, I’d say it’s still worth a try!
Any act of rebellion, no matter How grandiose or how small, Will serve to make you that much More free from the chains that Bind you and me, so do yourself, not I or anyone else a favor; heed that urging call To use your fists, and in any way you can, Cause the system to become beaten and battered…
Push back, whether it be Internally, via the spirit, Or outside, with words and fists, As you’re set into overdrive, Due for a meltdown, reaching a limit, Let ‘em know how much you’re fucking pissed…
Forget hope, forget any kind of future Promised by crimson swindlers and Apathetic, unimaginative losers!
Do what thou wilt, seize the smallest chance!
Devils we are, devils we’ll always be, so let’s do a devilish dance!
What could one Desire more than This, glorious splendor?
Vast, ever stretching, without end, A man could travel for hours, and Still, would the grand much of it Be unexplored. Beacons everywhere Call out, promising new adventures, Surely not to be ignored.
Tranquility, one wants? Here, tranquility, one hast.
Step forth, savoring soul.
Ocular organs peering into lush corridors, head turning About to survey all that makes itself known to you.
So soft, is the ground underneath.
Palpable under your bare heel and toes, calloused Due to all of the rewilding they Have had to endure.
Moist, damp, fresh.
Peculiar scents meet your nostrils, Undoubtedly rising up from the soil, Concocting pleasant vapors that Filled your lungs.
Molding, it seemed, to your feet, Not unlike a shoe, or a glove, but It felt…better. Realer. Purer.
A shiver runs up your spine as The cooler moisture nestles Betwixt thy toes, coating All around. It would seem, If one could imagine it, That the Earth itself Were applying gentle kisses Upon your trotters. A gentle greeting Amidst a new morning, as if to say, “Welcome back, love”.
Verdurous growth mischievously Tickles the skin underneath, Dainty growths of floral life Encompassing the appendage. One could Be inclined to think it were…dragging You deeper into its fold. And yes, It, too, is pleasantly full of Wetness. Tempting, isn’t it? To Simply…join it, on the forest bed, Relax into its hold. An enticing prospect, to be sure.
Yes, it had rained the previous night. You Heard the drops pitter-patter Against the walls and roof Of your home. Lulling you into Slumber with their comforting, Yet disjointed, rhythm.
Light breezes blow by, Caressing your skin So delicately and tenderly, Much akin to the arms Of a doting mother Pulling her child lovingly Into her warm embrace on A frigid night, Blowing faint whispers Laced with the promises You’ve come to expect Out of this sanctuary. Promises kept, a Word that never is given Deceptively. Lies, She tells not. For that is Not of her way.
Drink in the sights, Sounds, touches, scents, tastes, As well as all other profound, delectable delights.
Warmth surges through gatherings of leaves, Bathing you in a glow of Golden glory, the eye of Life gazing Upon thee, offering a contrast to the Chill of the playful wind. Not harsh, Not biting, at is sometimes wont to Do. Nay, merely teasing, Occasionally raising goosebumps as the Body is tricked into believing it is colder than is true.
Speaking of both the canopy and undergrowth of Emerald coloration sprouting forth From the outstretched arms, Both large and small soaking In the radiant beams emanating Eternally from high on, you are Surrounded. Engulfed in immense beauty. All rooted deep Within the ground, tendrils Buried into the dirt, drinking Happily. Up and out, is its way. A myriad of shapes Greets your curious gaze, Pupils tracing along every curve. No Artists of the species homo sapiens Could ever hope to Replicate something like them. It’d be An impossible undertaking. Those who Are arrogant enough to proclaim Themselves worthy, are foolish. Laugh at them, Laugh in their faces.
Oh, those sounds. You can hear them, Can’t you? Clear as day. They cannot Be missed, not for a moment.
Seems that thou are not alone here.
Older, wiser, tougher, stranger Emanations from Being, shaped Through its essence, descended Down from the immaterial (as all that lives is), Nestling and settling into Its new home, through which it Reaches out, expressing the Nature of that acausal mysteriousness, Keeping it safe, sheltering it, invigorating it, that which it is animated by, A mysteriousness they are intimately connected with, And you still are trying every day To understand more and more.
Songs and sentences passing from Magical throats, Enchanting And unknowable Words Filling thy ears.
Hear the pitter-patter Of killer and victim on The loose. An eternal Game of chase and be chased.
Fur and feathers of all Shapes, sizes, and colors Loom into sight. Somewhat Similar to witnessing Objects scurrying along A canvas.
So unlike you, they are, And yet, you feel connected To them, in a way Words cannot accurately describe.
A kind of knowing Of a most inherent variety, Not cultivated, not strived for, Simply there from the start. All that was Needed was to rediscover it.
Close by, the peering eye Of her, gazing from inside, Into the outside, seeing all Reflected in her vision. Her creations Lapping up what they need, Drinking her in, always carrying A part of her, wherever they go (although, They are already of her, and joined With her in harmony), always bowing their Heads in reverence when they approach.
Bouncing off of the surface of The clear orb of our Great Mother, able to gaze back Into her, as she is us, Above is seen below. Clear, Blue acres suspended, always Present, never gone. Undisturbed, Untouched, unmolested, it is allowed its Own recourse, left to its own devices.
Primordial, perennial, Everlasting, eternal.
Heaven sent you here, Guided you back home.
Of course, you came to find out…this was Heaven.
What could be a more perfect setting?
This place, it looks And even feels the Same is it did yesterday.
Alas, it also doesn’t.
Little changes, subtle rearrangements. Small to the Undiscerning eye, but to those who can Truly make use of their vision, they’re Unmistakable.
This is not your first encounter With this realm.
Nay, I think it not; rather, This be all that you now know. Yes, Intimately you know thy region of dwelling, Thoroughly intertwined with it, body and essence, Like the hands of two young lovers.
Daily, every cycle of Sun and moon Grazing along the protective cover Which allows us To peer into the depths, And become lost In the stars, you Find yourself Coming into contact with it, More and more immersed in its mysteries, Delving deep, always, Into the arms of the One.
This, this is your home now.
O, what of that Lesser home, you once Belonged to, so long ago?
Perish the thought.
Tis nothing else but Mere distant memories, Recollections from a time Now bygone, in your eyes.
Poorly reflecting on you, as you are now.
Despicable ways you have cast To the wayside, Shedding the superficialities of A world wrong and wretched.
Chains and shackles long since Ripped from your wrists, Left in the dust of your wake.
Soul no longer clouded, Overwhelmed with fog, Trapped in a daze, Confused and wandering, ever searching, Lost in an abyss.
Do you miss it?
Could you miss it?
Nay, you think it impossible.
After all, only a fool could.
Fools pine over the most detrimental of things.
Something stirs on the periphery of The otherwise serene, near silent setting
Nay, not a sound of here.
She didn’t give way to whatever this might be.
Again, there it is again. Sharp, grating, Distracting, unlike anything you’ve Heard in recent times, Ears unaccustomed to this racket.
The sound, the sound.
Your footsteps plod in the direction Of the offending crashing and banging, a Jackhammering pace Igniting within Thy chest.
Hypotheses and predictions born From an immense worry, Ideas of the worst hurtling Right into the forefront Of your mind.
It cannot be.
O Gods, do not let it be so…
Louder, and louder…
Clearer, and clearer…
Backing up, moving forth, Grinding of gears, Flapping of lips and tongues and throats, Whirring of engines, Valves opening and closing, Noxious breath bellowing from the belching lungs of the titans, Rushing veins pumping scalding hot, toxic blood, The feast of rape and murder, O, can you hear the screams? Aye, if only thy Ears were open, able to hear the screams…
Soil ruined for generations.
A floor trampled and torn asunder.
Flora and fauna crushed under metal teeth, digging greedily into Her breast.
Dear God…
The horror…
O, the horror…
Something ignites deep within, a kind of Bursting forth, as if a bulkhead Within that wasteful, demonic Monument to modernity, now Plunged into the barren, aquatic desert, Hath broken from the immense pressure.
“Good morning, everyone. Today’s top story…a rather tragic one. Harrowing, shocking; the product of a deranged terrorist, perhaps? Goodness, what is our world coming to. A crew, part of a local logging company, who wish to remain nameless, was found viciously mutilated outside of town, in a historic piece of land that, after being declared to be under preservation and untouched for virtually decades, had been bought out. From what we could gather, it was supposed to be an extension of the town. A new plaza, a new strip mall, a highway, something along those lines. They kept everything tight-lipped, fearing an uproar, if the news were to get out…although, the town has expressed positive sentiments towards growing in size. Guess they wouldn’t want to upset the greens, eh? The company has been working with the local authorities, and vows to find whoever perpetrated this terrible, loathsome act…to justice. And they shall be punished to the fullest extent of the law. If you know anything, see anything, please…contact this number. We have a dangerous killer on our hands.”
A World In Flames 