I don’t know what will come of this… yet.

I’m facing my comeuppance… blessed.

Karmic aggression… quick…

Stone… splash

Spit… slap…

Slip… crap…

Gift… rapped…

Split tabs…

It… tagged…

Game! Bragg.

Is that not a fort?

We cannot afford more mechanics of war.

Through machinations madly devolved…

to base beings… in haste bleeding…

what we could be seeding.

It seems our dealings constitute a beating

of oft’ dead warhorses

and death knells

we dance to dirges…

What is the purpose…

What is the proper pose

some propose if not groveling?

On the surface triumphant yet cowering…

cowering from the reality and the harrowing

notion that delusion, illusion, and deception rule the day.

What are we empowering when we let such and such hold Sway?

I’m far from having all the answers…

or all the questions for that matter.

Don’t know if it’s me or the world that’s madder...

We are the world…

Some say there’s no matter…

as such…

Ask us when we’re tranced up…

or martyred or hemmed up by charges trumped up.

First world problems…

How many worlds…

How many pictures?

How many words?

What is not scripture?

What is not scripted?

Who’s not conscripted?

Where does conflict live?

Where does it knot?

Where does it stop?

Where does it start?

Where do I start?

Where does the world end?

There is no when.

All is movement.

even unseen wind…

The winds of change

blew someone’s hat down the street.

Chasing it, stumbling, them and Cadillac grills meet.

Ludicrous… liberal application of elbow grease.

to the wheels of the beast’s conveyance…

shouldering beliefs contrived and given

to achieve an end…

Perceive what is forbidden

and what remains unforgiven.

Redeemed is just a shift in perception.

What you deem yourself you become.

Some seek possession.

What possesses but demon?

What corroboration but seasons girded with trappings for reason?

We go with societies flow.  

Contrary to nature,

we mold ourselves,

culling our souls for these nations,

committing spiritual treason.

The well of ancestors is deep.

Even the genes you don’t wish to but must keep speak.

Are you listening?

Or has the world’s noise drowned them out?

Many walk in shame but sound devout.

Who’s that whistling?

What’s word of mouth but needless distinction

for wayward diction

best geared to fiction by omission?

Hearsay I dare say is heresy of the highest order.

I speak universally…

Not under the auspices of the Holy See to no degree.

I seek to dispense with deception totally.

I won’t concede to any attempts at holding me

to words that didn’t come through me.

For these are the only verifiable divine conduits

upon which to base congruency.

I’m only true if I’m true to me.

You all are me.

We all are I.

I love me…

Open your eyes.

Daiikiru Maximillion.

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