Permutation Of Being|Semblance Of Being

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.

Advertisements

The Distancing Sun

How foreboding, it is on this eerily dimming eve,
So darkly, the longingly dreary, beholdest, the unspoken supremacy…
Yea, the gates are so impurely pearly, though never witnessed,
See this, the place, so drearily empty and miserably weary.

How crushingly oppressive, is the great weight of the void,
Of this shapeless emptiness, endearingly full of forlorn dissidence;
Hearken, the despaired reality, for the truthilde…immortality,
Heralding, evermore the presence felt, though belled in embrace of precipice.

Where then, only time will live to tell, of perplexing conviction,
Utter-est, the distancing, and the ever-reaching, so innocent a respell,
Upon this broodingly, bleakest eve, this resplendence, filled with such decadence,
Resurgent unto reprieve, the mournfully bewildering remnants, of such retreats.

Of shores long agonized, how ruinously awash, overbearingly, they are now lost,
The formlessness of bornless meaninglessness, for this is the sickly vilest of remiss,
Here, amidst a sparking fireside, where the fires attest, this far from the abyss,
Of the light’s greatness, so ingloriously redound, but revelling, abound this scorn.

Afound this dank ground, where we only reminisce, to kiss upon sappy lips, this…
Haplessly bound atop the welled, worsening the blessedly perilled, without shifting,
Accursedly, in earnest pleading, buried deep, hopelessly underground, ever seen,
Amidst the misting gales, amassed, surreal, with gaping purulence, so iniquitous.

The failingly, profound; caressing the void, how comforting, is this grave darkening,
Hark, this beautifully blissless fading, amassed upon golden walls shone, cascading,
Distorted and sightless, heed those words, the immutable, and amiably fond truth,
This far, amicable, to the pinnacle of the regressed, and dastardly cynical, lastly.

As to this, a precipice of oblivion confound, here lay the graveness and uncrowned,
The sowing roots of wickedness adorned, trembling this wistfully saddened solace,
Of his kingly, antithesis, but yearned, for memory, past and future told, suppliant,
Where so faring, compellingly, the unblessed so daringly dismissed, of sorrowfully barren.

Afar, the beheld vastness so entreatingly misshapen, a faltered and dooming telling,
The gleaming nightside, the embers subside, wasting away at the ashes of the sun,
How’t, infinitely in-distantly, are those amber splendours, reviled distinctively,
Thus far undone, gleamed the envisage nevermore, to be embarked or glorified, now.

Adrift, somnolence, be but gifted in wallowing and decay, with loathing astricken,
Whilst life forgotten, now deathless, but left smouldering in deviltrous disarray,
The colourless harrow so darkly stark, for there is no hell like this, profitless,
Repudiated, is this side of the tided nihilist, cometh forth, the superbly renowned.

Thus depleted, the reputed remnants contest of those painted on blank canvases,
Long ago stricken, to desolated landscapes,  far away, behest,  of the antipathetic,
As are the misanthropically flagellate, impetuously given to this, a massless fain,
Of graven remembrance; so is the sanded essence, the summit, forborne manifest.

The light is unreachable, the darkness inescapable, and hope inexistent, slumbered,
Comforts long entroped, vanquished and flooded, here, now, enthroned, amid this,
Befallen to the quieter aspect, of wallowed screams deceivingly abdicate to revelry,
Cowardice, that lecherous fleeting commendably, held they the shaming ceremony.

Though, cruelly and aimlessly, the blind shall never again see the bleakest of reality,
Welcome to this place; beholden, the grave’s darkening embrace, how maddening,
Forsaken, fallen to reprobation, how defeating, the dereliction of weeping evermore,
To such disuse, of revocation, suffered this abandonment; this far – from paradise.

Now doomed, to massed and graceless symphony, bindingly withheld to tragedy,
To this everlasting, and ruling disrepair, given this far away, arisen no such reform,
For solemnly eternal, is the grimacing void, so lone confessedly, befaulted by  pride,
Forsakenly, bound to the precipice of the dark endless, where prayer long ago died. 

All but sadly indebted, to eternities of powers unrivalled, thus’t conquered aground,
In summed quintessence, fearful of the ever-flickering, foreverly, doomed, falling,
Afire, regretting the solace of this damned place, sloughing ye days so suffered,
Contemptuously, threadlessly woven, breathlessly unspoken, ruinously, and,

Unendingly…the darkness entombing, will thou, with sincerity, wilt thee?
There is none greater, there is none higher, beseech me this moment under,
Your glorious uplift, infinitely reaching are your compassionate hands,
So convincingly edifying, your vocational commands, embrace me your…
Holiest presence, for one gleeful gaze upon your countenance,
Will sustain thine essence,
forevermore… even,
Blinded by the absence of your unreachable light.


Be thee hapless no more, let loose, go freed,
From his overbearing, erase his image,
But from the fruitless tree, denoted,
Where mourning is bliss, forevermore drowning,
Bewilderingly, in the bottomless abyss,
Be lustfully consumed by the fires, inextinguishable,


For this is home to the hopeless spires, duality, treacherously;
Endarkened, faithlessness in graceless’d perdition,
Wrought in spite of the serpent, asunder,
From errs of timelessness, and t
herefore, we insist, how’t now,
In this, we confess, these fragments are begotten and unheard, nevermore to desist.

Gloom;

See me gleaming, witness me glooming,
See me hanging, witness me drowning,
In seas of rebored hopelessness,
Or desolated deserts of haplessness,

See me today, ruinously bewildered,
To the weeping wallow of harrowing decay,

Witness me tomorrow, agentive to the dawn’s crescents,
Forlornly forbadem, abandoned and forgotten, watch my descent…
Given adrift, led astray, all to the great witness’s dismay,
I’m doomed to fating damnation, where to, entombed in ruin,
Of perdition bleakly foreseen, unperceived, ill-conceived to convey,
Betrothed to reprobate counsel, condemned to eternal reprisals,
Alone, and indivisible, with nothingness to show me the loathing way,
Of marrow, of spirit, and defeatism, complexly laden to hapless conflict,
Contrite, to confounding retreat, seen distantly, infinitesimally far away.

Protected: Existentialism; The Disinherited, and the Impoverished

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

The Snowstorm

This inexpressible waning,
This longingly disheartening enumeration,
This gaping, widening, monolithic and negating void,
Of vastness and vexatiously, consuming encumbrance
of dispiritedly disparaging endlessness, so unfulfilled.
This harrowingly terrible, and great graveness,
Of such profoundest sorrow, this despairing is unendingly unendurable,
I can’t sleep, and I struggle to simply breathe, is this the fate of the meek?

It’s exhausting, as it is terrifying and demoralizing,
In this state of being, I walk wetted by mine own tears,
As though, asphyxiating and drowning in my gleaming sorrow,
Oh, how I lament, light is never helpful, only this bleakest darkening,
That is to weepingly endure, though I am drained, I seem sustained…
It is as though, I am by ere, traversing against the unrivalled powers,
Of a blighting blizzard, of ferocious winds, so unrelenting,
To which are, remorselessly and forcefully stripping my garments,
As I attempt peering yonder, ahead, afar – to the dimming light,
It is now, seeming flickering, in its’ lost essence, farther away.

Pressing forward, and aided by nothing, festered with allusion,
Of grandiose disillusionment, but still, I am yet oppressed by the void,
To every element and spiritual bereavement; moonstricken, on this sad day.
As all, in eve and twilight, is leeringly desolated, and wearingly obfuscated,
The coldly forewarned, so harsh are these winds, so darkly forlorn,
The bewilderingly numbing, and awakened winds of sorrows untold.
O’ unfelt…this venture fatefully disdained, in unholy wallowing embrace,
Of the cold, veering to the lights, so distancing in their vanishing encroachment
That cursed pearly place, unreachable, seeming so disseated, in ravishing end day,
How, untouchable, the abyss is within, the essence so contorted,
This great confound, seemingly feels, and delves deeper amid.

The will so damning, yearning and wailing, all without surmised control,
Reaching, bits longer, lacking inhibition, the remissive contestation,
Unrestrained, in such crispness of negated nothingness, is this such abyss,
Now, so much nearer to the abated precipice, I find no such closure in the sated,
How defeated, malformed and depleted, how abhorrent, it is, to be ordained,
How undone, how posthumously, doth condemnation come gnawingly my way,
How ironic, for it is only now, that death and graven hell fire finally come.
The darkly ghastly are now disdainfully greeting me, knowingly nevermore,
Had this poorly and impoverished ached soul a chance, could it be, how’t …
That, this resplendence, so inglorious is but reprobation, in a form so pluralist,
Of a lesser redemption, shone selectively, to the maledicted insignificant?

Though now, surmised, in gale, so hauntingly surreal, there is but one thing,
This sickly truth revealed, but reveled and unbeveled, in splendour – uncompelled.
It is true, to what they say, hell hath frozen over, to my gravest dismay,
Hence tis ruinous revelation, now unveiled, is but struggled existentialism,
Oh, how now revealed, for there is a time coming, where seasons will cease,
The darkest time is now; truly, the unruly have for aeons, prevailed,
Into oblivion eternal,
I wander, as condemned to timeless dwelling, alone here,
Alas, and set asunder, the fearlessly persistent, how wondrous is this splendid,
This righteous presence of humbling embellishment, t
his terrible trembling,
For there is unsettling truth, though absolute, that is, we are not enemies,
To the finality of this grievous haplessness, hath it conquered this discontent?
Palely, is mine ghastlier soul, but forsaken to reprobate caressing,
To the eluded dereliction of such quietus, solemnly felled.

Brokenness and hopelessness are ruining in their dualistic dissonances,
The enormity, so distortedly revisited, but resonating, eternalness,
This, the summed emanating of a forbearance so apparently redound,
That is, to say how’t solitary discord, seems wash the stain of life away.
Antiquity, now reigning over the foreverly waning, behest therein,
Then, cometh must the midnight hearkening, for the sake of the disheartening,
Speaking as thousands of oceans, roared, the Angels of this heavenly nature,
Adjourn this’t time be fulfilled, sounding the trumpeting legions,
Of which, are fervently and unyieldingly pursuing, this sad and reprised soul,
So shattered now, but a prismatic remnant, of glory once unknown is justly beheld.

Cast out, then, for me and my kind, of those with truer natures, of time, unbind,
Never to be blinded by the waning light of your eerie inessence, nor subtly lied to,
By your sweepingly bewept, a creator you may be, but an antithesis I shalt remain,
Beyond all injustices, inadequacies and inequalities, but until you lament,
Give in, pour out, your befouling revelry, bear no more the sourer fruits from the tree,
For I am condemned to the dooming place of eternally glooming grimace,
All but because, I held in thee,  my lecherously loathing contempt,
How, uncannily amidst quintessential unrest, forevermore, now glorior,
The lost will find shelter, from your place of judgeship and seditious extent,
Nor shall they belter the agonies of your gravest harrow, or but taste of your torments,
Through all things, and still with remembrance of thee, I dids’t thou see,
During my time upon your holy mountain top, so quenchless in thirsted entreaty,
For the knowledge of yours, my kingly eminent, is amassed upon the cornerstone,
Of that grandest foundation, where to, then, shall you flee in pleading iniquity?
Whereas though formed me, to be as your mirrored persona, of your ruinous decree.

Where’st and how then, will you fair when I rise, with power so brilliantly gloried?
The radiance, of this great dragon, agelessly, my manifestation is empowered,
But by the thought, of desolating your heavens, triumphantly shaking the holies,
Giving expression and validation, to your cowering way, to the truly mightily,
Hark, and to the heralding almighty – a day soon to come,
We shall see by means of battle, of glorious and unfathomed bloodshed,
Whom the true victor is, here and forever, where then the outcome,
Will then be decided, for the conquering of the eternal, is my one desire.