My head is spinning,
My body convulsing,
This disease is consuming my flesh
Their cure is disolving my being,
Helpless and weakened,
My soul is being torn from my body
The screams of torment seem so distant
Driven by the hunger, they proceed to disect all that I am,
Ripping muscle from bone,
Severing tendons with ease
I pray for the end,
As my saviors arrive, I begin to take my last breaths,
Surrendering to eternity, my rebirth
The Impending Shift by TheWonderingSoul, literature
Literature
The Impending Shift
They fear me and my kind,
We know what they hold
Hidden away from those who need it,
Kept for the dark ones,
Stolen by the awakened
Our purpose is damned,
Yet we fight,
Ready to die for the truth
The path has many entrances, but only one direction
Despite their best attempts, we have seen the future
Prepare to fight for survival,
Remember these words,
Believe in the scrutinized ones,
For what they know will set us all free
Prisoner
Deviant
Lunatic
Echoes of the ancients fill my head,
Calling to me,
Open your eyes, they say
I hear my name called,
Its time to awaken,
My purpose will be recognized
At the parallels they fall,
Once again,
As fortold eons ago
You are not what you believe,
We do not belong where we are,
Our lines are mistaken
The most vital components are missing,
Does your god hear your prayers?
Do you mistake suffering for bliss?
Your master does not exist,
Open your eyes and see,
We are all
When the sands run low, where will the suffering hide?
Streets of chaos and rivers of black,
There will be no return to the lost haven.
A vision of reality which came to pass,
As foretold by the guiding force.
The skies darken, hinting a release of their sweet poison.
Choked screams begin to fill the air as tormented souls seek escape.
Amidst frantic disarray, a cloaked figure finds the shadows, eagerly awaiting the cold paralysis.
His pulse quickens with the looming smell of a weakened prey.
What the innocent will endure at his hand will stain the lands forever.
He is the great disciple, the great destroyer.
A series of connections derived from ancient rants of uncontrolled mysticism,
Conjured by the inept want of the wretched
Stoking the fires, lest we die in the absence of light ,
Pure and without reason
Death never comes for the departed
Crippled and depleted,
Mutilated beyond recognition by a familiar touch,
The rights are lost, and with them, progress
Marching in unison, undoubtedly toward desolation,
Devolution of a scarred dream
Cold compassion and blind desire,
They find no refuge in the temple
Cast aside, only to wallow in the shadows of pity
Greed, lust, and jealousy,
Their lair is no place for thy soul to rest
Abbreviated revelations,
Medicinal explosions,
Standing above the cotton, absorbing the frenzied vibrations
Convulsing from the overwhelming flow,
Stricken with euphoria
They know nothing of morality,
Nothing of boundaries,
Primal instincts do well to shroud the visions of even the strongest of wills
Basic needs shall devour the weak,
Yet, concern is lost
A newly acquired strength presents itself without hesitation,
Glorious is t
Fragility,
Quiet unpredictability,
The reverberation of instability
Time itself could not awaken the eye,
Could not suture the wound,
Could not prevent the future
Callous skin reflects the tests,
Blackened by fire,
Hardened by desire
Mirrors reflecting the grotesque actions of his image,
Passing waves of cursed veils,
Hidden in the mist
Milky white virgins lay side by side,
Unseen by frightened eyes,
Their ultimate demise
Crawling with broken power and fatigue,
With strength and lust,
With conviction and sight
Divinity,
Pulsating insanity,
The ever-burning intensity
Cinched up tight,
Hung with care,
Another ornament for the tree of the invisible
Eager hands find themselves ensnared in eternity,
He who looks, holds no key
A simple design it is,
Pure evil and without memory
The flame of hope and prosperity still burns,
Scarce is the oxygen,
With defiance it dances violently
Muddled ideologies are responsible for the rations,
We starve in wait,
Never to look upon the scrolls written by the source
Mental poverty has found its place,
Our quiet souls cannot deny the wounded
The Hands of Control by TheWonderingSoul, literature
Literature
The Hands of Control
Fissures do not speak,
Yet a knowing eye can see
Lustless incisions made by grey hands will write a new history
The daughters of time have sewn the future,
Deep in the catacombs of the secret order
The ice crystals will present many forms,
Millions will suffer
Cast from the molds of tradition and ignorance,
Showcasing imperfections and disfigured gestures
Their minds know nothing of a slow beat,
Only death and crippling torture
A series of sparks and transfers decide the fate of others,
Or is it destiny?
They care not, for they are merely drones
My head is spinning,
My body convulsing,
This disease is consuming my flesh
Their cure is disolving my being,
Helpless and weakened,
My soul is being torn from my body
The screams of torment seem so distant
Driven by the hunger, they proceed to disect all that I am,
Ripping muscle from bone,
Severing tendons with ease
I pray for the end,
As my saviors arrive, I begin to take my last breaths,
Surrendering to eternity, my rebirth
The Impending Shift by TheWonderingSoul, literature
Literature
The Impending Shift
They fear me and my kind,
We know what they hold
Hidden away from those who need it,
Kept for the dark ones,
Stolen by the awakened
Our purpose is damned,
Yet we fight,
Ready to die for the truth
The path has many entrances, but only one direction
Despite their best attempts, we have seen the future
Prepare to fight for survival,
Remember these words,
Believe in the scrutinized ones,
For what they know will set us all free
Prisoner
Deviant
Lunatic
Echoes of the ancients fill my head,
Calling to me,
Open your eyes, they say
I hear my name called,
Its time to awaken,
My purpose will be recognized
At the parallels they fall,
Once again,
As fortold eons ago
You are not what you believe,
We do not belong where we are,
Our lines are mistaken
The most vital components are missing,
Does your god hear your prayers?
Do you mistake suffering for bliss?
Your master does not exist,
Open your eyes and see,
We are all
When the sands run low, where will the suffering hide?
Streets of chaos and rivers of black,
There will be no return to the lost haven.
A vision of reality which came to pass,
As foretold by the guiding force.
The skies darken, hinting a release of their sweet poison.
Choked screams begin to fill the air as tormented souls seek escape.
Amidst frantic disarray, a cloaked figure finds the shadows, eagerly awaiting the cold paralysis.
His pulse quickens with the looming smell of a weakened prey.
What the innocent will endure at his hand will stain the lands forever.
He is the great disciple, the great destroyer.
A series of connections derived from ancient rants of uncontrolled mysticism,
Conjured by the inept want of the wretched
Stoking the fires, lest we die in the absence of light ,
Pure and without reason
Death never comes for the departed
Crippled and depleted,
Mutilated beyond recognition by a familiar touch,
The rights are lost, and with them, progress
Marching in unison, undoubtedly toward desolation,
Devolution of a scarred dream
Cold compassion and blind desire,
They find no refuge in the temple
Cast aside, only to wallow in the shadows of pity
Greed, lust, and jealousy,
Their lair is no place for thy soul to rest
Abbreviated revelations,
Medicinal explosions,
Standing above the cotton, absorbing the frenzied vibrations
Convulsing from the overwhelming flow,
Stricken with euphoria
They know nothing of morality,
Nothing of boundaries,
Primal instincts do well to shroud the visions of even the strongest of wills
Basic needs shall devour the weak,
Yet, concern is lost
A newly acquired strength presents itself without hesitation,
Glorious is t
Fragility,
Quiet unpredictability,
The reverberation of instability
Time itself could not awaken the eye,
Could not suture the wound,
Could not prevent the future
Callous skin reflects the tests,
Blackened by fire,
Hardened by desire
Mirrors reflecting the grotesque actions of his image,
Passing waves of cursed veils,
Hidden in the mist
Milky white virgins lay side by side,
Unseen by frightened eyes,
Their ultimate demise
Crawling with broken power and fatigue,
With strength and lust,
With conviction and sight
Divinity,
Pulsating insanity,
The ever-burning intensity
Cinched up tight,
Hung with care,
Another ornament for the tree of the invisible
Eager hands find themselves ensnared in eternity,
He who looks, holds no key
A simple design it is,
Pure evil and without memory
The flame of hope and prosperity still burns,
Scarce is the oxygen,
With defiance it dances violently
Muddled ideologies are responsible for the rations,
We starve in wait,
Never to look upon the scrolls written by the source
Mental poverty has found its place,
Our quiet souls cannot deny the wounded
The Hands of Control by TheWonderingSoul, literature
Literature
The Hands of Control
Fissures do not speak,
Yet a knowing eye can see
Lustless incisions made by grey hands will write a new history
The daughters of time have sewn the future,
Deep in the catacombs of the secret order
The ice crystals will present many forms,
Millions will suffer
Cast from the molds of tradition and ignorance,
Showcasing imperfections and disfigured gestures
Their minds know nothing of a slow beat,
Only death and crippling torture
A series of sparks and transfers decide the fate of others,
Or is it destiny?
They care not, for they are merely drones
A crystal pane,
Made of the finest glass.
A beauty,
A wonder.
Upon that crystal pane,
You may find yourself seeing,
The face of a woman.
Do you see her?
The woman?
She's smiling at you.
But, what is that?
There, in the corner?
Do you see it?
The pane, it's chipping away there.
Why is that?
The woman begins to frown,
And age.
She becomes sad, and tired.
Her cheeks hollow, and her eyes become glassy.
Her hair falls around her,
In ribbons and strands.
That chipping from earlier?
It begins to grow,
Becoming larger and larger,
Cracking the woman's features.
The crystal pane,
Holding her up,
Is shattering.
She's disappe
Face is downcast
I'm hiding tears
This pain will outlast
These dreaded years.
Words like poison
Face the mirror
With anger's arson
Burn the fear.
Twisted vision
Image in blur
Beauty's decision
To another defers.
With no permission
You dared to speak
Its not your position
Your words are bleak.
So shut your face!
I don't want to hear!
Its not your place
To share your sneer.
I am who I am
I chose to forget you.
I really don't give a damn.
Your words aren't true.
She cries because pain
Seems to come her way
People mock, people laugh
At this simple child
She hides it, she lets it be
Til the next morning
When we see my dear friend isn't home
The Impending Shift by TheWonderingSoul, literature
Literature
The Impending Shift
They fear me and my kind,
We know what they hold
Hidden away from those who need it,
Kept for the dark ones,
Stolen by the awakened
Our purpose is damned,
Yet we fight,
Ready to die for the truth
The path has many entrances, but only one direction
Despite their best attempts, we have seen the future
Prepare to fight for survival,
Remember these words,
Believe in the scrutinized ones,
For what they know will set us all free
Current Residence: Kenosha, Wisconsin Favourite genre of music: Metal Favourite style of art: I love abstract art. Operating System: Gotta love Linux. MP3 player of choice: My phone Personal Quote: Jim and Mary stopped by last night...
Favourite Movies
The Illusionist, Avatar, Fight Club, American Gangster, An American Crime, Last house on the Left...
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
Hypocrisy
Other Interests
The outdoors, music, FOOD, movies, writing, sarcasm, and anything I can learn about.
Several days ago I read an inspiring rant and here are my thoughts:
A woman went off about how she likes being "anti-social" (which is the wrong term. Introverted is what she meant) because she has an advantage over the extroverts. She spends a lot of time meditating which does have many benefits, but she also has a lust for knowledge. I suppose her rant and interest stuck with me, because she was describing me. I purposefully have very few friends and refuse to add more to my collection. A stranger once described me as, "A man who prefers his own company." After experiencing the world a bit, I have realized what I had suspected for some tim
I have been on here very little, despite my wishes. Since I stopped drinking, I have found it almost impossible to write. The ideas are there, but the quality is miserable. I suppose I could be a little hard on my own work, but why wouldn't I be? Anyway, here are a few things that have been on my mind... Why not try to write them down eh?
I don't know about any of you, but personally, I am disgusted by politics, yet I find myself unable to stop following these leeches. The American government is on the verge of pushing war on the world. In fact, websites like this one might be in danger as well. Thanks to the music and movie industry
I left for some time, but it seems I cannot stay away. Writing has always been a part of who I am. To all my viewers, I missed your kindness and art... I will stop there to avoid any sappy comments, but you get the point. I hope to talk to you all again soon.
-Casey
That comment means a lot to me. Today is the first time I have been on this site in a couple months. Checking up on things. I'm glad I made a difference.
I hope inspiration will strike again soon. I do miss writing and talking to the wonderful people on this site. My life simply has not allowed the time or ambition to continue with my poetry. Thank you for your support.