writing Poetry from Scribbler

[Midnight Scribbler 1,705]

Foreign Dialect.

 

Speaking in a tongue I do not understand
Yet knowing what is meant
I possess powers within myself
To unlock what is kept hidden away
To become something like a god
Yet mortality remains
Within the puzzle we reside
Within this labyrinth of our combined minds
No one knows it
Yet everyone seeks it
Answers to something with no answer
An end or beginning to something
Something that never began yet will never end
An illusion we live within
Passing mirrors and walls
Lights and sounds
Living
Breathing
Dreaming
Are we awake?
Are we asleep?
Within ourselves we are defined
A stream of flowing thought
The shore of creativity
Within a forest of knowledge
The wind echoes with a fading voice
Speaking in a tongue I do not understand
 

[Hastur 505]

This is something I expect from you... but also I don't expect it from anyone. I don't know what to think... my head hurts...

[Midnight Scribbler 1,705]

@,

lol I can explain it if you'd like.   It's a metaphor for my views of spirituality.

Here's another one I wrote. It's somewhat discordish.

 

Welcome, My Friend

 

Welcome, my friend, to the ocean of chaos.
Where dreams shatter and are born
Where visions are vivid and fleeting.
It is a scary place indeed
And yet so empowering.
I'd never intended you to find me here
Here in this state of being
And I won't blame you for turning away, old friend
For I am not who you once knew
I cannot blame you for your changing view
Things seldom stay the same out here
In the bitter rain, and howling winds
Upon the seas of chaos
And once again, I bid thee fair well
Though the skies are always changing
Through thunder crack and lightning strike
I send my warmest regards.

Edited November 24, 2013 by Midnight Scribbler

[Midnight Scribbler 1,705]

Here's another one I wrote. It's an expression of my anger towards a media controlled and consumer based society which so many people seem to adopt as the way things are. Here is my answer to the world of the consumer overlords, and their perpetual machine of control and domination.

 

Blind

 

Dreams and visions
The prophecy tales
Matter divisions
The closed mind prevails
Too lost to see
Too dense to care
What could be
Not one is aware
We are stuck in what is
We are lost in the trivial
Broken are the masses
That rule this jail
Raised by the greedy
Brought up by the lost
Care not for the needy
Think not of the cost
Where we are headed
Is not but a thought
A dream of the dead
Ignorance bought