The Pen and The Wind

The kingdom of heaven is within you,
And you allow others to explore it and you,
What some say is our ultimate salvation,
And others call the source of damnation,
Is our source and cause of gestation,
That object of much masturbation. 

For the vagina itself is divine, 
A source of life and light,
Pussy simply is Jehovah, 
For it brings all into creation,
Source of life it is the beginning,
It is also the ruler of all our lives,
For what governs us more,
Than those trying to reach salvation,
Or those who are it’s keepers safeguarding it,
Pussy ultimately shapes the world around us. 

But it is also our ruination,
For like junkies looking for a fix,
We dedicate too much to finding that light,
That we do not see ourselves cast into darkness,
And tormented by the anxieties about salvation,
We find ourselves among demons of our own making, 
And curse and demonize the god who made us,
Hating it and blaspheming it so,
For our own mistakes while basked and seeking it’s light. 

Bow down and pay tribute to vagina,
For it is creator, it is controller,
Then beginning middle and end of things,
Is it not the kingdom of heaven? 

Oh what a trial is the sinful shaft, 
The expulsion and eruption of the yang,
And the terrible yin stay away,
The cock is the wuji, the nothingness,
That ties all three taos together,
The key to spiritual enlightenment, 
And the ultimate distraction from it. 

So study the cock, for it is a mystery,
And the spirits and sins it holds, 
Can show us the way to learn and love,
But it doesn’t show, yet only betrays, 
Batiste and holds coy with multiple forms,
Rigid as mountains and soft as a breeze,
Hot as flame and source of fluid,
Cock is the aether, the culmination of things,
That leads us to what enlightenment brings,
Learn from the master that is the cock,
For it alone is the 108 trials we must face,
It is the meaning of all existence.

A gentle touch shared by you and I, 
That shines a light in a life of lies,
Is a course that would make me die, 
And yet I’d submit to it every time. 

For what are you but a phoenix’s grace,
To to shine rainbow’s light upon my face,
And in glorious light I crumble and burn
Every sin in the violet flame doth turn. 

I come to you with the desire to die,
And on your wings you make my soul fly,
For I’ll always arise again better than before,
To be worth of your love evermore. 

Scramble and stress,
Fight on through every trial and test,
The desire to live is too strong, 
That you cannot be kept in a cage,
Hold on, hold the line,
And do not allow your spirit to be crushed, 
For when that is gone,
Your humanity is as well. 

The feeling is there, 
That choking anxiety,
About how the nothing that strangles the world,
Will swallow up the minuscule everything,
Leaving nothing, 
You are nothing,
I am nothing, 
Noting matters, 
Not like this,
Not when things are like this,
Not when SHE is with HIM,
And no one worthwhile dares anything with you,
Because you are nothing,
Nothing at all in this world,
This world that forces it’s crap on you,
And then tells you to suck it up,
That that is the way things are,
And you have to will have to hold that bile inside,
Letting it kill you slowly,
Into an unsatisfying end,
Because you can’t just say FUCK. 
Fuck everything,
And just shout it out, and tell them all FUCK THEM.
FUCK HIM and HER,
Just FUCK,

We’re allowed to feel,
We’re allowed to say fuck, 
Because things are shit, and we’ve no since in being silent,
What you call angst, 
Is the dawning of realization,
That your world needs changing. 

Brand new days and dawns,
Still carry shadows from nightmares gone,
They taint and stain the land around,
Until all you hear is their echoing sound. 

But dark are the shadows you focus on,
So much you forget that light is not gone,
In the memories the light may fade,
But there will always be light to blot out the shade. 

Hipsters that write are like Oscar Wilde without the talent or fabulousness.

To give one’s own heart,
Sacrifices one’s own life,
All for another,
All in the hopes that they choose,
To sacrifice their life too. 

When I saw her I fell in love,
She was an angel sent from above,
I did everything from small to grand,
All to simply win her hand.

When I won her love I was overjoyed,
And to her every whim was I employed,
And life was the best have her with me,
I finally felt like my soul was free.

But then I found she was a bore,
Her looks did fade and she started to snore,
Turns out love does not come from the dick,
And messy divorce is love’s vengeful trick. 

The divine taste of love,
The thing better for life than air or blood,
For life without love is not life at all,
But the walking days of the dead,
Love, that keystone of the soul,
The only thing that constitutes true humanity,
And each of us living dead hopes to feel you,
So we may start living finally,
For you revive us and ascend us,
Into what humanity was truly meant to be. 

I never knew a love than that of Time and Space. 

The two of them hold a love for each other few could even fathom,
From every kiss and embrace,
They become more entwined with one another,
Separate and yet inseparable,
The passion in their carnal embrace was the birth of fusion,
And with every motion and caress did shockwaves of energy burst,
Filling one another physically and spiritually, 
Down to a quantum level. 

Time and Space’s love was so great,
That they neglected the world,
For it was insignificant compared to what was shared between them,
Time and Space had a love so great between them,
That they ascended into a higher state,
A plane for just the two of them,
And in their sharing their bond they became more interwoven,
Making our very universe from their love.

We live in an infinite world of love,
Created by the two ultimate lovers,
And yet we deny it and betray Time and Space,
Instead of honoring them,
By simply loving.

What if love is but a disease?
A infection transmitted via blood and air,
That inflicts us with it’s madness, not allowing proper function,
And seizes us wholly until it has spread all over,
Slowly killing the host from within if symbyosis is not acheived,
And leaves when the heart is too damaged to go on.

Love must be a virus, 
For there is no cure or treatment for it,
Until you face that near death so many times,
That you build up a natural immunity, 
And the infections come less frequently.

The crazy thing though, 
Is that you miss the infections,
You miss the madness, 
And you curse your built immunity,
For that is the disease’s best trick,
It makes you crave for it,
An eternal parasite that we love to have. 

Would I make a lover of the breeze?
To take the gentle caress of the zephyrs upon my lips,
And return them with all heart and soul,
Would I do such a thing?

Would I give my love to a Sylph?
The current of air flowing through both her and I,
To stir and fulfill the mind, 
To think in ways not ever seen,
And be inspired to ways unfathomable,
As the electricity between us charges us,
And from the simple touch of lips,
And staring deep into each other eyes,
Do we see the world as so much more,
And find the beauty in everything,
As we see it in each other,
Dare I experience that love like no other?

Would I give my heart to the wind?
I would if she would take it. 

To jerk off too much, 
Is to stare into the abyss of creation,
And instead of finding wonder or horror,
You think “that’s hot,”
And continue to masturbate. 
That is the essence of humanity. 
That is the answer to life. 

I gave my heart to a woman,
I hoped she would return with her own,
But she rejected and threw it out,
My cold crushed heart lay on the ground.

I hoped she would return with her own,
I felt such a fool for thinking she would share love,
My cold crushed heart lay on the ground,
Beginning to weep and mourn I fell down.

I felt such a fool for thinking she would share love,
Those who shared my heart rallied ‘round,
Beginning to weep and mourn I fell down,
They picked me up off the ground.

Those who shared my heart rallied ‘round,
And consoled and mend my broken self,
They picked me up off the ground,
Friend’s love healing a heart thrown on the ground.