Excerpts From The Catacombs.
Part One - The Dawn
Morning gives birth, to the faces of the dawn,
suits and cases spawn, leavin traces of the calm,
on with the sunlight, words to make it run-right,
scenery plays one-life, then expires to the next,
perfect respect, for every human earning checks,
flex the necks, of every sacredly written text,
flipping vex, gracefully faithfully to the next,
project the voices, equal omega to the heavens,
angelic essence, delivers this a holy presence,
solemn guessings, give nature an all-in lesson,
falling stressing, pressing the cords of the daylight,
gay-height, reaching clouds with godly play-writes,
stray-fights, they display the hidden-corridors,
riven-metaphors, taken by these poet orators,
set in motion, like particles in the methane,
strategic moves, improve the fluint like a chess-game,
the fluid in your stress-brain, circulates the kin,
triangulate a grin, your racket creates a din,
regulate the intake of absorbed positive ions,
return to the methods, that birthed me a Zion,
rely on, the fuel of presented by the divinty,
every reason tends to be, givin in simplicity,
brother enemies, are returning to the Mecca,
all praises do, to the earths and its Pressure,
its pleasure, and measures of its Treasures.
Rise like The golden in the early sights of dawn,
where the skill calms and rejuvinates its pawn,
on with the vocab, that releases atomic flavor,
essence nature, play on with heavens in the major.
Refreshed the edges, of this eternal movie,
do-we, communicate to the stars with there beauty,
rise like the sun, brings revival to our brains,
pain in the main-frame, humanities survival reigns,
aim my thoughts, to gamut over radio-waves,
rays of praise, to gods earths, and the slaves,
maintain the strategy, to erradicate extinction,
suppressed suspensions, reaches intimite intentions,
infinite inventions, tensed a bit, from depression,
impressions givin, from our branded answers,
ressessions livin, passed from grandest ancestors,
brandish us, with the motions towards a profit,
topics, inhaling evils, with no optic to stop-it,
we conclude a segment of rhythmic entertainment,
by providing a conclusion to our every-day-bit,
realising truth, cannot be viewed from the fiction,
Life is death, entangled in an artificial vision,
a prison, a dignitary escapes death, with religion,
seek the words of my widom, in a scripture,
nothings more tangible, them the rhythm my mixture,
A listener will listen, but ignorant will shy away,
but they will not prison, this eagle flies today.
