Sacrifice | Three-Planes-Aligned
Purus Emergentiæ Poetica
Grief and fantasy, dreaming phantoms scream
out into the void where freedom emerges, into
peaceful disturbances, voicing lethal determinism;
I sleep to manage these, frequent occurrences,
either that or keep my evil concerned with rhythms;
To answer each question authentically is mentally,
like trying to deal with good and evil separately,
I guess we need to keep our terse existence anywhere the serpent isn't.
Or embrace the oblivion that subverts the spirit
- Being senseless is preferred in a dirty prison
Fast to coerce a critter - to pretend and bleed
That the flesh is weak - and thoughts are worthless flickers
Either you accept that objections breed, regret and grief
- Or you consent to sleep in the middle of this burning village
The path of least resistance has a toll of thirty silvers
But off-road, regime servicemen murder drifters
Emergent myths turn from illusory to computed truth.
Programming souls standing up to those that choose abuse.
I'd prove to you the need to evolve,
but the people involved seem to confuse peaceful resolve
with the seeds of assault: reach into the breach,
beyond par when the King might attempt freeing the Gulf.
The spider's web is an equally responsible matrix;
from the launching of spaceships to the breeding of Gods.
And there you lie in obscurity and bleed for your cause
To feeble applause - from the listless choir
Coughing and wheezing as mould eats through the gauze
- A crippled, wizened, disfigured lion
The facts demand, a man of action, and
- A proactive stance as well as a fist of iron
The tree of wisdom withers as it's licked by fire
Making a noise falling - but rotting in chilling silence
Filling vibrant strings of void with prophets.
Building minds with nodes and sockets, open sourced
pockets with exploding bandwidth consortia.
Assorted and reconfigured pieces expand distraction.
Speed and advanced exactness while fleeing from damned entrapment,
so I toss mountains until my glass house is freed from the threat.
Speak for the rest of the diseased collective
tell them they don't need to expect it, the answer happened.
The balance act is - impossible math
- A dance with abstract particulars and ashen hangmen
Ghastly Latin - creativity is an obstacled path
- Insoluble wrath and fractured grammar
Unfathomed famine - towards the lucid offering
- The future is calling and in my stupor I'm soaring
I don't plan to shatter or go out with a bang
- I just plan to implode one of these beautiful mornings...
From ousting the strange to computing its normalcy,
the future's abhorrently without the constraints
needed for equilibrium. I'm fused with a coarse disease
that forces me to accord with reason and destroy deceit.
Speaking to free the cynical from their obnoxious doubt.
I'm more than Me, I'm uni-factual when problems bound,
computing practical by tapping into the quantum-cloud.
Because the apocalypse will only arrive when I'm not around.
out into the void where freedom emerges, into
peaceful disturbances, voicing lethal determinism;
I sleep to manage these, frequent occurrences,
either that or keep my evil concerned with rhythms;
To answer each question authentically is mentally,
like trying to deal with good and evil separately,
I guess we need to keep our terse existence anywhere the serpent isn't.
Or embrace the oblivion that subverts the spirit
- Being senseless is preferred in a dirty prison
Fast to coerce a critter - to pretend and bleed
That the flesh is weak - and thoughts are worthless flickers
Either you accept that objections breed, regret and grief
- Or you consent to sleep in the middle of this burning village
The path of least resistance has a toll of thirty silvers
But off-road, regime servicemen murder drifters
Emergent myths turn from illusory to computed truth.
Programming souls standing up to those that choose abuse.
I'd prove to you the need to evolve,
but the people involved seem to confuse peaceful resolve
with the seeds of assault: reach into the breach,
beyond par when the King might attempt freeing the Gulf.
The spider's web is an equally responsible matrix;
from the launching of spaceships to the breeding of Gods.
And there you lie in obscurity and bleed for your cause
To feeble applause - from the listless choir
Coughing and wheezing as mould eats through the gauze
- A crippled, wizened, disfigured lion
The facts demand, a man of action, and
- A proactive stance as well as a fist of iron
The tree of wisdom withers as it's licked by fire
Making a noise falling - but rotting in chilling silence
Filling vibrant strings of void with prophets.
Building minds with nodes and sockets, open sourced
pockets with exploding bandwidth consortia.
Assorted and reconfigured pieces expand distraction.
Speed and advanced exactness while fleeing from damned entrapment,
so I toss mountains until my glass house is freed from the threat.
Speak for the rest of the diseased collective
tell them they don't need to expect it, the answer happened.
The balance act is - impossible math
- A dance with abstract particulars and ashen hangmen
Ghastly Latin - creativity is an obstacled path
- Insoluble wrath and fractured grammar
Unfathomed famine - towards the lucid offering
- The future is calling and in my stupor I'm soaring
I don't plan to shatter or go out with a bang
- I just plan to implode one of these beautiful mornings...
From ousting the strange to computing its normalcy,
the future's abhorrently without the constraints
needed for equilibrium. I'm fused with a coarse disease
that forces me to accord with reason and destroy deceit.
Speaking to free the cynical from their obnoxious doubt.
I'm more than Me, I'm uni-factual when problems bound,
computing practical by tapping into the quantum-cloud.
Because the apocalypse will only arrive when I'm not around.
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