Gorgeous Delicious Deculture

The story of song and dance in space
A story beneath shielded sky
Of singers who sang to the theme of their lives
Of the actor who wanted to fly

Necessity for one
Necessity for all
The rise of a new pilot after old one's fall

Beginnings to some begin right there
Their talent and ability to their peers to share
The convergence of these paths all meet
The idols and the pilot elite

They all join in one place and the conflict is set
Though none of them know it yet
Wars of race, of who's a star, of the galaxy far
The dream world for human's to get

The battle of another world begins
Proven dominance for which race wins
The saver becomes the saved, a consequence to how he behaved
And an unknown saves both their skins

(Through short and long, shown all along)
(A display of feelings strong... the worth of SONG)

Escalation of war leads to damage unknown before
and the fairy is pushed aside
The shelter of the enemy's threat
The sickness she tries to hide

Sleeping wreckage of a ship unknown lead to memories long buried within
The power of song begins to fold, the endgame shall now begin

Therefore!
The rise of a voice continues unabated
A weapon of hope for all
An unstoppable force that overwhelms all resistance
The power of origin unknown

Nostalgia (2/7/12)

Can the passage of time be of mental importance?

An illusion of minds free of weight

Without the doubt of survival, is there an arrival

Of contemplation upon life, god, and fate?

Regardless of this, for we can’t know a truth

The existence of “time” confuses me

The difference incurred from changing “Where” and “When”

Differenced you and I can see

Same and different, both exist at once with each other

So in regards to a time I can’t name

There is difference to now, yet as I see it here,

I see many things that are the same

Weaver of Fate

To scrabble at the seams of the threads that make life
To weave them on impulse in a manner unplanned
To sever the strands with a calculating knife
To shape a workable tapestry with your own hand

Anomaly among natural law

Silence held and silence felt
Anomaly among natural law
That the lowest energy raises tension
Ice won't shatter, only thaw
The issue is then what the issue is
A fabrication of human construction
Or is it simply a matter of fact
A purely mental construction

Thoughts to live by, or merely a dream?

If only the hearts of all could be called together
If only we could see though eyes unclouded by hate
If only we could stand in many places and see the world from many places
If only we could accept sameness and differentness in the same breath
If only we could show our greatness without sacrificing the greatness of others
If only we could live as we should and live as we want to because they are one and the same
If only we could see to communicate, communicate to understand, understand to know, and know to coexist
If only...
If only

This was written with black rock shooter in the ears
Reverie metherlance in the heart
Ichinose kotomi in the mind
And one's own thoughts in the veins

This was written in the here and now, 
that which cannot ever be again,
but that which will always be evermore

This was written here
Deserving of no one's attention
Yet addressed to everyone
Yet no one in particular

This was written so that you could read it
Do with it what you will

Youtube Link

Language-ception

An idea is unknown, without known form or presence
It just is, yet it isn't in fact
The sentences together deliver these thoughts
Within text these ideas are packed

The written are but words, yet the text is laid clear
The sentences hold meaning within
A synergy of parts to construct something new
What's outside is reliant therein

The words are but letters, an assembly of sounds
All share a system between
The order given creates an understanding of thought
Of what is and could have been

The letters are but symbols, meaningless in essence
What's important is what's universally known
Without knowledge there's naught, arbitrary babble is caught
Impossibility to see what's been shown

The symbols of ideas hold meaning to all
Yet meaningless are they in the end
The cycle of cycles, synergy big to small
All to form a message to send

Doorway to dream

The gate that leads to other worlds
Is made of paper and pen
What is it you the reader reads here and now?
what is it the writer wrote then?

The vistas imagined, though thought made them real
The construct and rise of a dream
The building of a dimension based on inspiration
Some central, integral theme

Yet the text is naught but a doorway
And the author is naught but a guide
You are free to step through and wander alone
Explore for yourself what's inside

The truth is that nothing stands the same for all
That our eyes are not equal in sight
That we see not the same vista of dream
Even though it's enbathed in the same light

So wander onward, reader! Step through doorway of text
Wander onward across this strange land
Move on your own whim, independent of any
This I, as the writer, demand