1st verse Vor
2nd verse Pak
My Psychic Ability
Grasping the Spiritual identity,
Grafting to an ethereal entity,
Laughing at lies & devils tempting me,
I foresee the upcoming century.
*
Possibly, since age three I’ve been able to see spooky sights,
Must’ve been four, or five, before joining parallels w/ poltergeists…
Swimming in dicey rivers, icy shivers rushing thru slick spine cords,
Illness filling my pores as time Lords enact crimes w/ shined swords,
I find words buried behind earth in a mind growing shoots, bearing fruits;
Swearing truth is the lone proof needed to raise GOD-fearing youths,
I knew all of this would happen; unfortunately - I never know when?
Feels like it’s not me writing; something outside me motivates my pen,
Every now and again - I Hate all men for what they’re about to do;
Women too, your plans are visible, nobodies safe in my point-of-view,
Hoping I’d weaken; forget sneaking, I focus foes from miles-away…
Lost in a world of dreaming, scheming how to lead my profile astray,
Vibes inside my genes incite thoughts crystallized by sunbeams…
Mesmerized in scenes that materialize as I visualize the unseen,
Cold sweats on dark mornings, hearing various voices whisper warnings,
Often I forget the importance that this sixth sense is supporting.
*
Grasping the Spiritual identity,
Grafting to an ethereal entity,
Laughing at lies & devils tempting me,
I foresee the upcoming century.
*
A puppet in the hands that grasp at my bloody glands,
Strands of DNA slowly sieve into scattering sands,
I pry into matters that seem out of control, I hold;
Slip down and dip into a bloody hall, my dreams fold,
I arrogantly arrange numbers to form a simple equation:
333 men double to represent the current situation.
I tower upon beings that cowardly crawl under my skin,
In the beginning I found joy to grimace at my so-called kin,
Related to my life the knife bent at the sight of my eyes,
Like Matilda I lifted objects and adversaries flew in fright.
Raised a GOD-fearing youth, awed at the sight of a booth;
A booth containing contaminated germs from a tooth,
Of a higher entity, saying simply it was a brothel entirely,
Don’t wonder, as I wonder how I see through opaque walls,
Hear calls from invisible allies, looping motions of grand falls,
Therefore, afraid I sit and curl the braid of the barmaid,
Words drop in ink-lets, join as an anklet that’s links don’t fade.
Words drop in ink-lets... and chains of anklets are made
I write an ending to the never-ending saga of lies…
Surprised that when your dreaming how fast time flies,
*
Grasping the Spiritual identity,
Grafting to an ethereal entity,
Laughing at lies & devils tempting me,
I foresee the upcoming century.
*
*
*