The Logic of Consequence

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Those who are anger, or fill themselves with wrath. Will also be filled with the most woe and sorrow, they are the ones who cry the hardest. They destroy themselves, inside and out, more than anybody else they know.

 

Those who are greedy, or envious, will be the most restless. This is because they constantly seek. They will never find, they will always work, they will never rest. Their restless wanting and yearning will drive their peace.

The arrogant and haughty, are also the most vunurable, because they are they, who are pompus. And the pompus, never look over their shoulder. Their enemies easily pick them off. They are followed by ignorance, and this is why, all of these things.

 

The lustful, are followed by destruction, and are usually second to perish.

This is because the moths, following into burning flames, and can’t tell the difference between the light, and imminent danger. This makes them also the most vunurable. Though second, because they receive multiple chances to change their path.

Pride is followed by lonelyness, the crippling kind. Their mind is the most guilt heavy, and the most distraught. They are the soldiers, that usually fight the hardest, and die the hardest. To forgive, is indeed to shield against death.

 

Copyrightcopyright September 17, 2017

 

 

 

 

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The Faces of Lifeless Things

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Just as before, there is power in peace, there is chaos in hatred.

And power, without the peace, is a restless mind.

Two arms reach forward, to reach for froward. It’s like reaching for the arms of others, and using them for the arms of others;

it’s like using other people’s legs, for other people’s legs;

it’s like thinking with other people’s thoughts, for other people’s thoughts-

and none of them all have power, because they’re all but one mind. And is restless-

this is what restlessness will look like, if it were the face of a man.

For a man, to look for a woman, and a new life with her;

it’s face will look like a child, lost in a downtown land, searching for his lost mother;

the worry on his face, will be what it looks like in physical form, and the joy of that child finding her, will be what his success looks like, and the horror, of never seeing her again;

will be what divorcing her will look like, if it were all a tangible face.

A woman looking for a mate;

will look like a fox looking for a new home, in physical form-

the bear traps, will be what people who look devour her destiny; will be what her enemies look like in physical form.

A son that doesn’t listen at all, not one bit;

will look like a child, with a featureless face, but be destructive, and still possess speech, in physical form-

The clouds will look like a mute child; in physical form, for they speak not, but still have life. They are naive, and yet important. The skies will look like this, because they are always born over and over again, so they are young, and they are eager to learn. The blueish portion of the sky, will be their mother, she is old, stubborn, and fickle;

but her voice is a teen’s. A teen, because of it’s nature to change form, and spread influence among others like it, and it’s ignorance to understand the impact of it’s actions. This is why, weather, will never be able to be controlled…

A hurricane, will look like an angry, mindless teen, that is inhuman, in physical form;

this is because they feel, they are passionate, but they do not truly understand why.

A dying old tree will have the voice of an old man, asking for help; if it had audio. This is because, like it’s appearance, it is old. It will speak often, have a weak, dying voice, and only ask for what it needs. It will not understand why, but it will understand why it doesn’t receive it. And both when it goes dormant, and when it dies. So does their voice, they will make no more sound.

A toy or a child’s plaything, will have the same happy voice as the child that plays with it…Even if it is old, decrepit, and broken;

it will still wish to be played with. But it will be angered, every time a child stops playing with it. Until somebody returns again to play with it.

A computer, if a living mortal formed creature, would be as smart and intuitive as it’s owner, but just as ignorant as they are as well. This is because it has charisma, it knows how to talk to them, but just like them;

it only knows, the answers that their owner’s already know.

A pencil’s soul is arrogant, but listens to who wields it. This is because it needs you to use it.

But doesn’t require you, to understand it.

A shoe will be like a kid, as well. It wants to be used, but never misused. It will never understand why you out grow it-

the more you use it, the less it wants you to. When the sole has a hole in it, it will have died. There will be no more voice in it to hear, even if there were one.

If the moon were to speak, it would ask many unending questions; they would be about intangible things;

starlight, distance, life, death, lifesource, and many other things, mankind hasn’t even made up words for. This is why her face is enough, and she is made mute on purpose;

not all things need to speak, sometimes the beauty of their presence, is just enough to redeem their story.

 

Copyrightcopyright September 15, 2017

 

 

E͕͍̭̞̠N̨͇̤̝d̰̦̖̬̪̮̯l̫͎̖͙̮̥e̙̫͢s̶̯͎s̵̪̻͍ ̴̹͇͖̜͓S̜̟͖̤̺̰̟͜o̺̦̮͙n͔̩̰͝g͏

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Except from my horror story:

Prologue

 

It is them, that are made to dance;

like puppets their severed limps skip like a jump rope;

their eyes are many, they see infinite…

They laugh when they are afraid; they are afraid when they are manic. They cry when they are hysterical-

their faces hurt from their endless grins-

they are balding. Indeed!

Ants crawl upon their unblinking seeing eyes…by the thousands they swarm their pale faces! They twitch their fidgeting mouths; drool pours like a flood down from out of their mouths. They slobber when they are well pleased,

and like maggots, their bodies swing sporadically, as they all hold hands, like pale paper dolls;

they sway to hold hand-in-hand-

they are indeed corpses;

they sing the Endless Suffering Song. They giggle, and cheerfully smirk;

some with tongues, some without.

Some with eyes, some without.

Some blink, some can no longer…

And like a square, they form it like an arena ring-

and their shadows fall upon the ground, and swarm does their darkness to devour the corpses.

Like children, they know nothing. All they know, is that to feast is to feel good-

Their insanity is like music…

 

Copyrightcopyright September 6, 2017

 

The Folly and the Fear

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And out of the tides that be, you are but a thread grasped for the taking.

But the insane, and inept are they that fall into themselves, like a shadow-

and lo how insane, the rabbit hole goes;

if you were to only chase after what wsidom is unknown….

They are them that have fell themselves like a tombstone. They are them that are like stones…They are they that have fallen off the deep end;

and their faces stretch like the warped madness, tunneling and concerning.

To those who take great and utter pleasure;

into the chaos you go! Your faces will circle like the moon, and then disintegrate like a forget-me-not flower. You will glaze over like eyes, you will look up and see nothing. You will eat only the air of pure madness and hatred, and from one ear and out the other, so will your soul go…

you will have webbed knees, that stick to the chaos that you so sprint after; lifting dead limbs you will look up into the dead skies, with an empty blank stare.

Your face will be chubby off of the very greed of deceit-

you will roll down the headsman’s hill like a child frolicking down the meadows of hysteriam-

your mindless expression shall be in the form of drool; your wives and husbands will suckle off of that drool-

like honey it will taste good, but feel wrong and tommyrot.

The same way your soul suckles off of your choices-

you will be insane, and enjoy it-

and you will fear those who aren’t…You will see knowledge, and scream at knowledge. You will use your own words, to dig your own graves-

Your chin will be the shovel, used to scoop up your own words. Your eyelashes will act as the spears to pierce the winkening of love and remorse; hearts will be thorns, and thorns shall thorn against.

Your neck will stretch to chase after the rabbit of hate and haste, and your nose hairs will act as nooses to catch the bodies of your own kinsmen, entangled and enraptured, after your own shadows…

Your eyebrows will curl like a beard of deceit, your wives will do the same;

like a curtain your brows will act as the carpet of negligence; soft against the canvas of terror, your peace shall be the hay in the needle sack! Your snot will be the sweat pouring from the terror you imagined, and behind you, nothing at all, except your conscience will appear.

You will frown upside down the grin of lust, and your lusts will upside down frown the grin! You will fear those who wrought fear, because you have bowed before the fear of hate so long-

you will think chaos is the answer…And the rabbit that you so dared to chase after, will have horns, and hooves for feet…

Yet the face of a once recognizable reflection. You will curse it, turn around, and flee. Only to realize, that there is no ladder from off of your own nightmare and schemes-

And this be it the pride, and the madness of the folly.

 

Lo, what peace will only watch it from the distance; the shadows that have grown.

Lo the corridors, your shadow will roam,

if you were to only but leave it alone…

Copyrightcopyright August 22, 2017

Hold Your head up. Don’t Be Discouraged. God is on Your Side.

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Hello friends. It is Gregory Thomas here.

I know that many of you either perhaps do not watch the news media as much as you used to, if even at all. In fact, I myself do not watch the news anymore.

This message is not going for politics, it is not going for specific races. I am going to be talking directly on uplifting EVERYBODY caught up in the entanglement and the struggle, so that you will no longer fear. You will no longer be discouraged. And in the name of the Lord, Jesus Christ your savior. You will be uplifted.

 

The length is long, but this important read, you will only need to read once when the time is most appropriate, so that you may continue your day.

 

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There is power in peace. There is chaos in hatred.

the world is entangled within a spiral that circles abound. There is fire underneath. There are angels up above. there is the night sky, there is death or there is love.

There is no lukewarm, there is only choosing. To live arm and arm. To embrace one another; or to reap what you sow.

You can choose to be as they (and there shall be many) that seek their vengeance; your face will only become the same face of hate. Expressionless, mindless, insane, and snarling…

You will see only black and white. You will fear who wroth fear. You will be as mindless beasts that don’t even understand how that same hatred has stretched and warped their own faces-

a drooling, eyeless once-human creature. That waltz in darkness, devours the darkness, and cries out in that same darkness.

If you choose that vengeance, whilst in that darkness, you will stumble around, striking trees (metaphor for buildings in the cities) swinging blindly (metaphor for whatever weapons you wave in air) your blindness will only attack the first person you see-

Some people believe that hatred attacks the first black person they see.

But in truth, hatred is blind and eyeless, and sees nothing. Only hears (metaphor for listening to what they hear on T.V. or whatever is up in the air of gossip). Hatred attacks whomever, and whatever they hear shuffling around;

and whoever, chooses to be amongst that same darkness (to join in that same hatred or vengeance seeking) brothers and sisters (whatever race they may be) will only rage against whomever voice or sound they hear first. Because hatred is mindless. And doesn’t even understand why.

 

Or you can remove yourself from that hatred. And in return, you will see that peace that God will and shall shower over you. If you do not believe this, then in Jesus name, I pray it over you today for simply reading across these words I pray that this is so for you (whatever ethnicity, or gender, or belief or religion, that you are).

That you will be protected from whatever evil that is already defeated in Jesus’ name has in store. You must remove from that evil (by knowing the truth that you know you are free). Turn from that vengeance. Walk in the light. And in return. You will have power in your peace.

-Amen

 

Cold is the Frozen Space

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Into the depths of, and then further into space;

inevitability makes your stride like a needle, shooting further until erased-

her eyes tunnel through space, like a wreckage, devouring;

and her eyes widen eagerly, her snarl is a meteor. Showering-

her face is the whole of Andromeda, waiting to tear you apart;

and her body is the space, too; indeed the void;

hurdling radiation over you-

cold dead space, is like a body that descends, over the junkyard of ships. Crumbles a sound deafening.

and yet no sound is heard, as you fall into gravity’s grip and pull;

Saturn lifts fools up without pity, devouring wanderers until made full.

She hovers over, indeed, indeed;

Orion, the belt that squares. And cold freezes tumbling skin to the touch. Her giggles up, over, and all around her lair.

and she fidgets a giggly grin, that is the laughter of space itself;

like a woman, her body embraces man-

and like a wedding, her face is the veil…

And the cold. Horrible, inevitable cold. Uses bodies as limbs to waltz;

she is the jester that prances about,

using star dust she lathers for suds and bath salts-

and the mind too, is vulnerable;

the day mankind! And into the depths of the space thereof…

Into the depths of space unutterable.

Poem Meaning:

Talks about the dangers of space travel.

Copyrightcopyright July 18, 2017

 

Endless Light

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With the ridiculousness of every

shadow lurking afore us all;

inevitability is a look, gained, and saw-

For what eyeless beast enters in from out of the boogieman’s

closet? Nothing but a gasp, at the very thought of such a logic.

Insanity fidgets a beautiful face;

the day your thoughts unto fears, are doth enslaved-

for war is a war, fought hardest in the mind-

a fragile mind; written all the time-

chaos is the fidgeting nightmare, made into a grin-

to smite such thoughts, endless light…

war, and war, woven like skin-

For good and evil, unto all things;

decided is the rise and fall;

it is like a freight train, used as vengeance;

it is like a fiend, wearing a flowing dress.

It is like a thought used as a grin.

But what ho, little one, endless questions ceased;

always remember you this:

That the deeper into the endless light, we go;

the darker becomes your shadow-

And the infinite gunfire admist all our world wars?

This is called the endless light;

it is like waging an assault, with the golden gates of the stronghold in front.

and nothing but shadows from behind…

Copyrightcopyright May 31, 2017