The Alluvian Experiment Part 3Bring us this day, the day of Terror As we are at the mercy of yur Hands We tear our faces apart at theThe Alluvian Experiment Part 3
Thought of what we've done A generation brought down to its Knees by our greediness The world looks at us in hate That is no surprise thught (since we created it) The only mass weapon we can Produce is
Fear and fear itself You have passed the Alluvian Experiment We give you back your life And give you the right To end ours Lives that no longer deserve to live You must walk out victorious In the face of the
Tellurians
Where Have You GoneI sit of the cornerWhere Have You Gone
With streams of tears down my face The clouds grow black and bleak A sign that you're gone I walk to you gravesite Sullen and sad
Dead roses from some foriegn time Line your headstone I still struggle with the fact
That your gone But your spirit roams the Earth Never to rest again
Plague Daughtersi. Victoria I, a seamstress, nimble-fingered with sharp eyes and steady hands,Plague Daughters
weave threads of trust into needlepoint and eyelet lace; fasten hope like pins and buttons; delicately embroider faith
into the trains of gowns, which you will be careless to destroy;
trailing hems through dirty city streets while playing hard to get. You. Slovenly. Drunken. Whore. &
When Dreams Become NightmaresWhen the sun is high and bright; And there is no trace of night -- And the world is at your feet; A truly gorgeous treat. You know you're in a dream. (or so it may seem). And when the sky is full of grace; And there's no obstacles left to face, And your heart is full of a love; A Symbol of the dove; You know you're in a dream. (or so it may seem.) And when you're flying through the sky And you know you'll never die; And the ground is far away; Yet still you want to stay; You know you're in a dream. (or so it may seemWhen Dreams Become Nightmares
September.I embrace you, September.September.
It's been too long since I've felt your fingers through my hair. It's been more than a decade since I saw the color of your leaves change so gradually, like a sunset on a clear day.
I have never heard your moans through the trees at night, nor have I celebrated you and your dying grace. I have seen your obvious flirtatiousness, your blushing leaves your coy laughter in the wind. But have I heard your thoughts, the true mark you leave on this world?
Dear, September,
It's nice to find comfort in your stare. A
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"What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset." Crowfoot, Blackfoot warrior and orator 1830 - 1890
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--Follow the fireflies.
And thanks for your kind words, I appreciate your feedback.
--B.R.
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--Follow the fireflies.
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--Follow the fireflies.
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