Veering helpless, amid these blue skies…
How selfless, is his sacrifice…
Foreverly bloodied from barbaric bludgeoning,
To this side, afar – from the womb, to the tomb, and beyond…
What a miserable existence, for this sad man,
How emblematic an effect, over mankind,
Thus given abjection, from their kind,
Where thou abstains, the crying eyes,
with resemblant virtuoso, for the disbelief, surmised…
From the gallows, to the cross afire,
To the hills of Golgotha, from Jerusalem’s maze of endless spires,
In humility, tormented and humiliated, demeaned and defeated,
Abandoned, graven, forfeited and fated,
Beholden, then a peace so soothing, convergent,…
Likened to streams so tranquilly fulfilling…
A wrathful lust, a loving sentiment,
An absolution without confusion, nor with artefactual obtrusion,
Amid the diffusion of elementary reactions,
To realistic contusion behest the abstruse reclusion,
So cometh the thundering clouds, of storming glory,
Of proudly profound and unrivalled power,
The very ground, shaken and trembled, how’t tremulous…
The foundations once infrastructure’d, now deconstructed, this’t glorious…
The machination of creation, formed of manifestation, inception…
Then corrupted, a seed once fell – from a tree never found ill,
Avail, the seed seemed felling, from the precious peach,
Which beseeched the aboriginal antiquity of the formerly conceived…
That old serpent, the twofold ruler, the unruly enticer,
The insatiable appetite, never once fed,
Truly, the evil mastermind gave not his life, but only his pride,
Making him, but second to the most high, not to be surprised;
The kingly founder of malediction and darkness,
The deceiver, the seditious, the iniquitous and the pretentious,
Him, the son of perdition, the emphatically underwhelming,
The passionately welcoming, Antichrist, so impassioned…
He, who paints the skies red with blackened dread,
Forbidden the allotted entrance to the endless gardens of Eden,
Forbadem the rapturous second appraisal, for life, continued – in paradise…
The wise bearer, the threefold beholder, the justified juror,
The only one worthy, the necessitated source of brilliance so flourishing,
How ravishing, the ravenously darkening,
The splendid lighting of the radiating sun,
Beholdest all life, and all death, come from the lips, uttered by his words,
To become or to begone, to permuted being, or semblance’d duality;
He, whom painted the stars, with nothing more than his breathless oblivion,
Confessedly we accept, gratuitously, the wonderment of his awed stand,
But hand in hand, against the antithesis’s virulently vehement tail,
So sweepingly destructive, and eternally immutable,
Beholden, he whom is the irreligious, the irrespective,
The universalist, the preferentially disavowed, never disallowed,
Nor given to sorrow’d entrainment of heavenly’d derelict,
He, the great annunciator, forever, unmatchable…
To this, the immeasurable precipice, of the formless bliss,
So caressed in dualism so wistfully professed,
The amassed err of totality’s embrace, of finality’s wake,
For audacity’s sake, how professedly classical,
The befalling so stigmatized in horrific awakening of timelessness,
Disseminated, for purpose of understanding, of the unbevelled plight,
So the exhortation of his gloried revelry…
The Longing…the yearned waning;
To stare sleeplessly at the ceiling, appearing though no barrier was there,
Between dreamer and stars, longingly gazing, appearing aimless,
Though, with true and thoughtful direction, one stares,
Seemingly endlessly, deprived and despaired,
But worried and ridden with stressing realities,
And the starkly perpetuations, still one stares…,
Veering unendingly, transfixed and transcendent,
Herein the blissless thought, deludingly deeper,
Delving more, into surrealism, and quintessential unrest,
Until one drifts into unconsciousness,
And is but adrift to the sameness in thought,
Only in dreaming, then to wake to the nightmare of actuality,
Begotten to normalcy and forlornly repetition,
Until life reigns ceaseless, where then,
Only the unknown is of abstractly-laden thought.
The Accursedly benighted…to solemn insecurity;
Behold, these eyes unfolded; unfolding,
Collapsing and flattering…
The despairing of the sun,
The waning of the undone;
Embrace thee, thy emptiness…
Caress the void…let go the joy,
Distancing infinitesimally,
The voiding vastness of longings innumerably,
Be liberated, be welcomingly accepting of nihilism,
This’s the unknown’s song, written for a father’s son;
Beholden, the vexatiously and vicariously redound,
The sickly withering, of the graveness underground,
Be astound, the treacherously lecherous, the confoundedly profound;
Retreat thee then, defeatingly afoul, be fleetingly cowardly,
For wickedness has no bound, this far from joy, removed and reveled,
Give unto thee reprises nevermore, stricken abound,
To be surmised in disdained existence, forevermore unbeveled.
What I feel is inexpressible,
As though dispiritedly moored…
Though abstruse, a voiding vastness,
A desolated negation, a lightless depth…
An aphotic state of melancholic dispirit,
As though loftless…
Amidst the languishing embrace of the abyss,
…and its graven precipice.
T3TInnovations 