G
Guest
Guest
Slowly we file
Through the hallways of the
Kingdom of the lies,
We've been twisting our minds
With selfish guile.
Doors are opened finally;
The carpets all thickened deep pile allure,
No steps are heared.
Have we crept this way before?
Where molten heads rolled to the floor.
He overstretched to touch the moon
And overlooked a crooked eye.
She understood a subtle smile
That underpinned a mannered gloom...
Neither saw the others' keenest time.
We thought we lived, we eat to die,
As slowly we file
Through the hallways of the
Kingdom of the lies...
A wink the mind's apostraphe,
A hearty grin the lifetime's italic shine.
The curtain falls upon the ghost child
With whirlpool eyes without a centre,
Running from the headless spectre.
Who are you, fiend without a face?
Who are you, shaman? Priest? Abyss?
He woke too soon from waking sleep
As if there was a date to keep.
I've seen this before, this world of war;
A dress rehearsal every day
In concert with the cosmic play,
Unless true motives are indeed
The higher goals from ages old,
As we now ride
Through the hallways of the
Kingdom of the lies...
Each door now turns open and new
As visions abound in oak-panelled rooms.
No more mania to sieze the fevered crown,
And the sober petalled tears no longer stain my skin
Like dew upon a crystal tomb,
Adorned by living vines askew
In temporal variance.
Fear and hope entwine in nuptial bliss enshrined!!!
We who lived in reflective fragments, rootless but alive
In aubern balance.
A prism in an icy vortex shone
To the mannered mind of experimental kind.
Hope travels wild as I beckon the blind
To walk alone slowly
Through the hallways of the
Kingdom of the lies...
Let experience lamp a stifled eye
And kindness wily split a dour stone
In fresher climes, to survive
The angered ripened aged kind,
While the porcine feast on fleshly obsolescence.
I will walk with you
Beyond space and time,
To mine the mysteries of the hallways of the
Kingdom of the lies.
Arm yourself with crown and sceptre -
Prepare you for the headless spectre -
Lost in the sweaty worry of the brow,
A rarest furrow sought the plough.
"The Headless Spectre"
Through the hallways of the
Kingdom of the lies,
We've been twisting our minds
With selfish guile.
Doors are opened finally;
The carpets all thickened deep pile allure,
No steps are heared.
Have we crept this way before?
Where molten heads rolled to the floor.
He overstretched to touch the moon
And overlooked a crooked eye.
She understood a subtle smile
That underpinned a mannered gloom...
Neither saw the others' keenest time.
We thought we lived, we eat to die,
As slowly we file
Through the hallways of the
Kingdom of the lies...
A wink the mind's apostraphe,
A hearty grin the lifetime's italic shine.
The curtain falls upon the ghost child
With whirlpool eyes without a centre,
Running from the headless spectre.
Who are you, fiend without a face?
Who are you, shaman? Priest? Abyss?
He woke too soon from waking sleep
As if there was a date to keep.
I've seen this before, this world of war;
A dress rehearsal every day
In concert with the cosmic play,
Unless true motives are indeed
The higher goals from ages old,
As we now ride
Through the hallways of the
Kingdom of the lies...
Each door now turns open and new
As visions abound in oak-panelled rooms.
No more mania to sieze the fevered crown,
And the sober petalled tears no longer stain my skin
Like dew upon a crystal tomb,
Adorned by living vines askew
In temporal variance.
Fear and hope entwine in nuptial bliss enshrined!!!
We who lived in reflective fragments, rootless but alive
In aubern balance.
A prism in an icy vortex shone
To the mannered mind of experimental kind.
Hope travels wild as I beckon the blind
To walk alone slowly
Through the hallways of the
Kingdom of the lies...
Let experience lamp a stifled eye
And kindness wily split a dour stone
In fresher climes, to survive
The angered ripened aged kind,
While the porcine feast on fleshly obsolescence.
I will walk with you
Beyond space and time,
To mine the mysteries of the hallways of the
Kingdom of the lies.
Arm yourself with crown and sceptre -
Prepare you for the headless spectre -
Lost in the sweaty worry of the brow,
A rarest furrow sought the plough.
"The Headless Spectre"