chemistry – Page 2 – A Piece, of the Sky

things are never going to be the same
it doesn’t matter now
born on the wrong planet
why I struggle
Proportionality
careful, circumscribed, discreet
one of the dream team
the biggest supporter, who benefits the least
the Doors are Closing

everything is a shade of gray
mega-pointless life
went into the future
wandering around somewhere
another timeline we could have taken
only in art, does life have the most meaning
too social. like burnout social
play the drums; hold the remote
Benzene Tacos

the rising tide of culture
alchemy to chemistry and living forever
the bottom of the video game world
dead god, lost god
the diary of a sh*tposter
AWPed into the ground
the wrath god
a Dark Messiah
a fierce spirit, a fierce daemon

call down god, from the cloud
look, another beautiful follower
Djinn-spirits, Asura war
still a human, not yet a god
disciples and gods
reproducing the Temple of Heaven
the Realm of the spirits, animals, and the gods
the sky opens up and the angels cry out
you don’t have to find the return

it’s not the same
we are not the same
the myths and the lies that we tell ourselves
valets and jesters

Please do not repost without my permission, but you can support my poetry here! Originally written 2/21/21. Copyright, All Rights Reserved. All art, not from the author, belongs to the original artists. This particular illustration is by the great poet and artist William Blake.

if it had, or it hadn’t
if it did, or it didn’t
flat and flattened
a blank slate, from nowhere
the eight riders of Gemini
history is not a stale and dead enterprise
The gifts of wandering stars, and the magi
a soft, half merger for some dye businesses
a circuit, between emanations of light

what’s there and what isn’t
contradictions and doublespeak
living underground, and then finally seeing the sun
the floodgates are open, parting the Red Sea
the last terrible, bitter roots, are finally weeded
ground down and ground out
legends of the giants and djinn
paganism, and the ancient Amber Road
it did and it didn’t

out of basements, and primeval forests
the migration of Eurasians, off of the Steppe
prehistoric fire giants and volcanoes
hidden in the oldest part of Europe
spirits and cities – a world on the moon
thunderous Perun, Iupiter and Indra
there and not there
feel like an out-of-place alien, on earth
leftovers, from the future

Prometheus and the phoenix; light, and fire
the reemergence of real feelings
a great Angel, at the Edge, in the bright light
the secret of Central Asia and the Steppe
an inadequate ideology
warm sea and lush land
when the continents were in unusual places
a tranquil world, shrouded in falling rain
ellipses and uncertainty

put purpose into practice
not a watch, but a Band-Aid
peer over the edge, into a dark grove
it is and it isn’t

Please do not repost without my permission, but you can support my poetry here! Originally written 10/10/20. Copyright, All Rights Reserved. All art, not from the author, belongs to the original artists.