Present State

Awaken young minds!
To the Theater of the Unattainable Dream.

Marvel at the many puppets dancing for the pleasure of your kings.
Sitting on their thrones—fleshy, bloated, filthy.
Living in perfect accordance with the morals of Mammon.

Through it all,
leering demons stuff the orifices of our souls with hopes and dreams
stolen while the tainted innocent slept.

So sing you forgotten spirits!
Sing your joyful songs of death and suffering,
off key as they may be,
they are lovely hymns for the delicate ears of angels.

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About Universal Shift

I am the Sonata Unusual. I coat myself with some obtuse angle too far below zero to become any warmer. I create motivation, activate schemas, moisten gardens with scents of natural honeydew. Construct this meaning, you sleepy flock. Silence your singing—despairing contortions out of tune. Shatter the brittle butterfly glass with your hideous wailing. I am born of my god’s imagination. When I die I shall meet him. For there are many things to discuss over tea…or scotch.

Posted on April 20, 2012, in Author, Fiction, Philosophy, poetry, Religion and Spirituality, Spirituality, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. This was awesome. It really moved me.

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