Dream Weaver

 

There is a phantom world, of make believe 

Of idyll reveries, mayhap, a realm to breathe

Where the sun never sets, over open water 

And the days grow long, but never shorter 

There is no afterlife, in this subliminal space 

No nightmare will linger, and try to displace

For this is a sanctuary, that harbours the soul

And, unlike an ocean haze, it's under control 

There maybe leviathans, of an abyssal adulator 

Or sirens, beckoning, an exploratory navigator

For minds, in slumber, can be a focused force

Manipulated, or directed, on a chosen course 

It's the ultimate escape, on a steerable track 

Sailing into windward, on an improbable tack 

And if all is becalmed, the oneironaut, will stay

Where the sunset's a guest, to behold, or delay

There are oceans, and seas, for every believer

To be sailed on, forever, by any dream weaver 

They're there, somewhere, in a subliminal wake

Afar from the shore, where monsters might sate

Apocazombilypse

 

The undead don't lie, for they rewrite the scripts

Then thrive, unalive, in the Apocazombilypse 

They're unstoppable, they're frenzied feeders

A corps of corpses, the vile, non-interbreeders

Ignorance is bliss, knowledge, nefariously dumb

For death's disease, turns to, thy kingdom come

So carriers, carried, and the infections spread

When the rubicon was crossed, lands, bled red

There was an apple in Eden, in a rustic orchard 

Twas a ruse to enable the mortals to be tortured

It's where the seed, was sown, in raptured rot

Now the infection's rife, and the blood can't clot

Ignorance is perilous, knowledge, stirs doubt

 The crazed knows neither, in sanity's drought

So the snarling infected, hunt prey in packs

To afflict putrefaction, and turn skin to wax

The undead don't die, they're unawake in crypts

For there is no afterlife, post, Apocazombilypse

A feeding frenzy will end, with no souls to save

In a cremation's fire, or in an unhallowed grave

Skeleton Skin

 Maybe they're monsters, or merely, corrupt 

But they're undoubtedly evil, born to disrupt 

Formerly humans, now of alternative creeds 

Destroying Arcadia, for their nefarious needs 

Maybe they're delusional, or merely, obsessed 

But they're undoubtedly vile, enough to detest 

Once, in opaqueness, they were a secretive clan 

Of smoke and mirrors, but naught, but a sham 

Maybe they're unhinged, or merely, mentally ill

But they're undoubtedly liars, and in for the kill

For in days of yore, they turned deceit into spin

When the wolf, ate a sheep, for its skeleton skin

🐺 🐑

Apparition

 

A shade, in shadow, approaches the dark

Etched in black, untethered, and stark

An unreal, apparition, from ebony's, cast

But nothing's there, except what's passed 

With some foreboding, or the reaper's sign

What was once, will be, once upon a time 

For without a reflection, no trace, persists

The soulless, condemned, to the dire abyss

The shade, in shadow, will leave no wake

Invisibly evanescing, into a state, opaque 

Though a trace may linger, in admonition 

It's merely, a final phase, of an apparition 

☠️ 

No Lives Matter

 

There's inflammatory, x-rated, chitter and chatter

That's under their jurisdiction, for no lives matter

For all despots decree, and to death will condemn

From the cesspit, satanic lair, of their viper's den

Kill, or be killed, it's their fact, not your drama

For the quicker the end, the sweeter the karma

All the tyrants, they know, even as they decry

But they'll do nothing, for they need you to die

The war is never over, if the war, can't be won

For harmony's a threat, not controlled, by a gun

So the autocrats agree, to keep the fuses, alight

Their needs greater, than a sub-classes, ex-might

There is nowhere else, and every god is a fraud

Death cannot be controlled, it can only be lured

The oppressors all know, but ideology, inspires 

A narrative's the truth, from the lips, of the liars

There is coercive, x-rated, chitter and chatter

It's the puppet masters will, for no lives matter 

The despots, tyrants, autocrats, and oppressors 

Are a dystopian regime, of freaks, and regressors

Low Earth Orbit

 

The hyenas circle, as ravenous zombies, feed

On the feeble, fallen, who had no cause to cede

The detestable infected, The Tower's, tarot

Will rend flesh and bone, to sup on marrow

The vultures circle, beneath scattered clouds

As frenzied flies, swarm, in death pall shrouds

Ready to infest, the sundered, those post-life

For on undead and dead, the maggots writhe

A parhelic circle, glistens, around the sun

A crystallised reflection, of an incessant hum

It's like a mourning star, for those fed a lie

Then fed to zombies, until the end, was nigh

There's an 'inner circle', of a terra forfeit

They're afar from here, in low Earth orbit

But their secret satellite's, a mere way station 

Until they return to their, new world, nation

The ever decreasing circle, of the human race

Is, without Heaven, or Hell, just lost in space

And everything's malignant, but they'd forgot 

That even the undead, will die, and maggots rot

1 in 8

 

There's an unearthly place, there's no debate 

Where, if gods existed, they would forsake 

All lives paths, lead there, as time devours

For in the longest night, are the darkest hours

In the deepest sleep, there's a way to wander

With no turning back, to the state of slumber 

For when dreams have faded, in a dying mind

What was once, will be, to the void, aligned 

When you fall asleep, you might fall to death

Back to the 'nothing', where non-reality's deft

Afar from any prayers and beyond the brink

Rest in peace, but to life, there's a severed link

There's no Heaven, or Hell, Samsara/Nirvana 

And dying in dreams, is the only true karma

But there's an unearthly place, for the unawake

From the harassed, who passed, to the 1 in 8