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The evils tree

Knowing where to handle the judge
Weaving thought of beauty affair
The fashion of are colored fence
Dreams of dread of compounded revolutions
The key to are night comes at shores
That death can not revile with dumbfounded innocence


The worst case scenarios dapped into illustrational quirts of vengeance
I see no man standing on the roof of my dependence
But the words the haze into the monolith’s ear
Monopoly’s heat staring at crying in the doubled speechlessness

My heart is trust to myself
Fearing others not for what they do
I climbed this ridges of eyes burning
I’m seeing without knowing
I’m the dawn upon myself

To dance unto a circled channel
I know the beating of my heart
To leave these blanches as solitude rewinding
And to drink the wine of them who know
The dreams of winked spots
Un them less to growl the kiss of longing

Let not say what they would steel
As they molded in to the shadows instrumental counsel
Like beams having the night with the view
Therefore I sign the blessing
With the bleu nightingale of knife
The format of are jangling curses
Oh I have a heart for you
Let it stand by this fire of chapter 13
And leave this hand to dry
On leaves of left over emptiness
Death will become thee
As bats roam the seers of kinless grey

But then and there I saw the sun
As a Lucifer’s danced attendance
Of a scream at known the hallow
There I will find my peace

quaileyedsnowfish wrote:The evils tree

Knowing where to handle the judge
Weaving thought of beauty affair
The fashion of are colored fence
Dreams of dread of compounded revolutions
The key to are night comes at shores
That death can not revile with dumbfounded innocence


The worst case scenarios dapped into illustrational quirts of vengeance
I see no man standing on the roof of my dependence
But the words the haze into the monolith’s ear
Monopoly’s heat staring at crying in the doubled speechlessness

My heart is trust to myself
Fearing others not for what they do
I climbed this ridges of eyes burning
I’m seeing without knowing
I’m the dawn upon myself

To dance unto a circled channel
I know the beating of my heart
To leave these blanches as solitude rewinding
And to drink the wine of them who know
The dreams of winked spots
Un them less to growl the kiss of longing

Let not say what they would steel
As they molded in to the shadows instrumental counsel
Like beams having the night with the view
Therefore I sign the blessing
With the bleu nightingale of knife
The format of are jangling curses
Oh I have a heart for you
Let it stand by this fire of chapter 13
And leave this hand to dry
On leaves of left over emptiness
Death will become thee
As bats roam the seers of kinless grey

But then and there I saw the sun
As a Lucifer’s danced attendance
Of a scream at known the hallow
There I will find my peace

.. as time permits, I may revisit this considerable outpouring on your part. [I'm really strapped this week] [and not in a good way, I mean]

I notice [though I don't think I've ever commented on this before] that you have one title for the work to draw readers in with, in this case "monopoly's heat" [and you know just how to draw in the depraved type of crowd that visits back here with that, so some credit is due you].. but then you'll have your "working" title as it were, in this case: "the evils tree." [which you feared would scare readers off with its.. cliche'd predicability??]

.. now, I'm not one to lecture people on

actually, I take that back.. I think maybe I am.

See, fish.. I'm afraid I'm seeing the beginning of a very disturbing trend here. What, turning tricks wasn't enough for you??.. Oh, and I suppose next you'll be tattooing the name Aleister Crowley on your buddocksus? [actually, I don't think that term is germane to your oeuvre--even as it may be as regards your buddocksus] [yes, folks (my Latin acumen aside), I now know how to spell "oeuvre." My god, only the French could think to put three vowels together like that and think they're hot shit--oh, excuse me: hot merde] [actually, I'm beginning to think I may be developing the same attitude toward French as I have towards Freud] [must be an "F" word thing].. [fuck]..

Anyway, if it's moral bankruptcy you're after, fish [speaking of 'f' words]--what, with that Chapter 13 remark--then you're batting a thousand [tired cliche that that is]. As to originality, though..

I'm the dawn upon myself

oh, and especially:

But then and there I saw the sun
As a Lucifer’s danced attendance
Of a scream at known the hallow
There I will find my peace

.. well, I'll be dealing with Mr. Crowley on another thread, as it happens.. but when God was handing out High Litrature, Aleister thought he meant the kind of spurious crap that sells big in Hollywood, and NOW look where that got us?.. oh, sorry, that's not what I

Look, you had a good deal going with your obscure (if misspelled) allusions, and thinly masked, flop-house desperation. Why Disnify it??. [yeah, he was one of those sick, nut jobs too, it turns out] [Hollywood's just loaded with them, I'm afraid]..

.. so, for now, fish.. just stick to lost hopes and damaged dreams. [look that last one's even alliterative]

I may return.

[oh, have you been youtubing Lucifer Rising??].. [my god] [as usual, my advice is: two aspirin, and maybe take in a nice facial] [time permitting, of course] [working girl that you are, I mean]

later, fish.