Disciples Of Nostradamus

Everything, you think you know, or to which, you are aligned

Does not exist, it's a mirage in a matrix, intelligently designed

Your free will's fake, but maybe, to delusions, you have sworn

The reality is though, you're a vassal, you're a worthless pawn

Within the coercing domains, of AI, gods and climate control

Are their ideologies, that have, or will soon, take a deadly toll

The path ahead is clear though, if you choose to soundly sleep

For the shepherds ways are wiser, if you're in a flock of sheep

But they're fallacious seers, merely disciples, of Nostradamus

Who conjure their new wave fears, to manipulate and harm us

They want to save us, from an invisible enemy, in a secret war

So they can control and command, as their sycophants, adore

The heavens are a void, Earth's a rock, AI will always cleanse

For you there is no future, it's only time, that inevitably wends

And remember, as you're standing beneath the threadbare sky

That the cults of humanity, like humanity, they were born to die

 

'SLEEP' (from dusk to mourning)

 

Witch's Spittle

 

 

She sat astride me, naked and sweaty, at my behest

With her tumbling raven locks and saggy old breasts

And she mocked me, with a cackle, enough to belittle

As I watched her lips drip, with her sour witch's spittle

But I couldn't resist the touch, of her cold, flaccid, flesh

Or her abundant, brittle thatch, like a woven wire mesh

For my need was afire, although she'd chosen, to choke

With her, livery, skeletal hands, compressing my throat

It was far too late, to escape, from her vice like thighs

I felt my tongue swelling, as was, the bulge of my rise

I tried to desist, but I couldn't repel, her malevolent will

And under, a sorceresses spell, I would inevitably, spill

I was fading fast, so I tried to inhale, or just taste the air

But she squeezed, even harder, demanding, that I share

I was trapped, with her astride, I was helpless, beneath

As her putrefied breath fell, through the rot of her teeth

The ecstasy was agonizing, but her throttling, did wane

As I, fulfilled, our salaciousness and with acidity, came

And we gasped, with mutual relief, for passion is fickle

Before she cackled and loosed, her sour witch's spittle

One 1/10 Tenth

 

Who am I? Because I think I might be somebody else

Held hostage maybe, by bewitching, demonic spells

And who are you? Who is seemingly more than stuck

Being bound, upside down, on a butcher's, rusty hook

Here we are though and apparently, it's just you and me

And that somebody else, of course, making a total of three

We're all together, you're tethered, with our intentions plain

Maybe I am, non compos mentis, but he is one tenth sane

You're gargling in panic, as you hang by your ankles rope

As you lather with terror, you're seemingly, bereft of hope

If I could feel anything, it'd be insanity's choice to decide

As it feeds on the horror, that I see, as your eyes open wide

If I could, then I would, but somebody, will not let me stop

The insidious somebody insists, I eviscerate, siphon and lop

What can I do? But inflict on you, torturous, life ending pain

 For I'm really nine tenths crazy, but he's only, one tenth sane

Sometime later...

My head is ringing, from the buzzing, of an electric saw

And I'm slipping and sliding, in a spill of entrails and gore

 Whoever you were, I see you've been mercilessly assailed

Stuck on that rusty hook, upright, butchered and impaled

 I'm not responsible, unless I have simply, misunderstood

Even though it's me, smeared, in somebody else's blood

If I am crazy, or possessed, then how can I be to blame?

For I'm a fraction short, of me, the one tenth that is sane

 

A Shade In The Shadows

 

I awoke, in an unremembered night, or maybe not

To a shade in the shadows and the fetid smell, of rot

Twas a state of non-reality, where nightmares begin

Or the end of rationality, for it has always been Him

Unmoving, I reached out and I searched, for its face

But there was nothing there, just a void, of inner space

There was nothing at all, not even a zephyr of breath

Just the lost memories, of embalming, with crystal meth

I was unfeeling, desensitized, there was no turning back

As I couldn't find what I sought, as grey turned to black

And my fears, were not fading and I could not, pretend

That I ever knew who I was, or what it meant to ascend

There's a shade in the shadows and I'm looking down

At empty eyes, sallow skin and death's frozen frown

I was him, 'now', I am Him, but I am unable to see

For in this nebulous shroud, there is nothing, of 'me'

If There's A Heaven

Maybe it's a conjured number, for a beast, 

or a clue for where nightmares indwell

But if there's faith in the program, then, 

 (if there's a Heaven) this must be Hell

For if there're careful calculations, in heresy, 

then we must be, illogically, aligned

Or maybe God is an artificial intelligence, 

malevolently, intelligently designed

Are all of our memories, pre-programmed, 

so we remember to exist?

But if the promise of Heaven unravels, 

would we start to resist?

There're answers, in original scriptures, 

but of ill omens, they bode

For we're not, who we think we are, 

 according to, ancient binary code

01000111 01101111 01100100 

01101001 01110011

01100001

01110010 01101111 01100010 01101111 01110100

(abdGiooorst)

 

Frisby Mill Lock

There're worse places to be, you can be sure, that there are

In some parallel existence, that's neither juxtaposed, or afar

But here, elsewhere doesn't matter, when you're taking stock

As the waters, cascade through, the disused, Frisby Mill lock

There are better places to be, probably, but they are not here

Stood at ease, upon this bridge, above the cacophonous weir

Its feeder river is obvious and gentle, the meandering Wreake

But here, this man-made tributary, likes to play, hide and seek