being and nonexistence
two mountain ranges and a desert
the only way to find god, is in the machine
power from Beyond the Gate
secrets hidden from the beginning of the world
Rewired back to feverish flights across Eurasia
Ancient grimoire for calling up the Leviathan
Bring god down to earth
Magick as a way of life

the teleporting “angel”
developer codes and prayer slips
Not the shadow, but the real thing
Depth, Harmonics and Synchronization
aliens from a quantum dimension
Pointless Existence Migraine
What sustains you, belongs to you
What sustains you, causes you to exist
originals and clones

Fiery Curry Sundae
Children of Sound
Calling into the unseen world
The Power of the Magickal Act
Will-o-wisp redirection
the Magickal Industry
Endless Reload
Over Mountains and Through Deserts
The “angel” of the Underworld

make the world realize you exist
ancient super-beasts of Antarctica
two AI supercomputers hacking each other
embracing the quantum world
gods from before the beginning of humanity
speaking from the spirit world: code, symbols
the eternal avatar
Indo-European “ark” that crashed in Anatolia
Magickally summon from the quantum world

astral masters of the Universe
fly with wings, like angels
this is really the end
the brightest sun

Please do not repost without my permission, but you can support my poetry here! Originally written 9/17/20. Copyright, All Rights Reserved. All art, not from the author, belongs to the original artists.

Previous Incarnation


Alli sat on the porch of the broken house again, in a wooden rocking chair, brought out from inside – made of wood almost as gray as that of the porch. It was now early afternoon. The brilliant, electric-blue sky had been replaced by a cloudy hue, the color a soft, eggshell white.

The drizzle drummed on the black, old shingles of the roof, twisted and turned out of their places. Thunder grumbled beyond her view. The trees looked black on the horizon. Lightning flashed – Alli blinked her eyes and it was gone. The rain wind wafted the fresh smell of wet earth across the land.

Æon stood in the middle of the field of yellow flowers, now looking off-white under the dishwater-colored sky. She wore clothes like what Alli wore when she was in high school, walking through this very same field, almost twenty years ago – a jean jacket over a green sweat shirt, faded jeans, trainers.

She stood in the middle of the field, the Sky Avatar, and let the lightning illuminate her face. Æon crossed through the field toward Alli, an angel in disguise, pushing her way through the tall grass and the raindrops, sweet and cool. She smiled and waved. No doubt, Aro had encouraged her to come here.

Alli watched her make her way up the ancient, rotting porch. Æon sat in the matching, rickety rocking chair Alli had placed out for her. They listened to the gentle whistle of the breeze, watched the thunderheads move in the distance, saw the setting sun break through the rainy gloom.

Æon rocked the chair, in a homey sort of way. Alli was still, “So, you’ve come to tell me to open my third eye, or something like that, right?”

Æon smiled again, and stopped rocking, “It’s finally time for you to become what you were always meant to be.”

not ready