Storm Child (Pulse Of Levitas Telum)

"The trouble ain't that there is too many fools, but that the lightning ain't distributed right." -

Mark Twain

Storm Child

(Pulse Of Levitas Telum)

I’m trapped underneath these dark-grey storm skies. Waiting for my birthright fate to realize- a purpose or a dream that God had for me, when my mom conceived this unaware baby. Well, the tapping rainstorm and thunderous skies lifts this shivering body back to life. I’m following the boundaries of the pouring rain, in this forest that never appears the same. My eyes are locked with anticipation, due to my storm sky fascination. My heartbeat throbs with a lightning clash, I’m possessed to pursue Nature’s mortal tasks.

I, the tree of tranquility, born with a face of humanity. I, the seed of fertility, grown in the membrane of your darkest fantasies. And underneath these angry thunderstorms, powerful beings push to be born. So, free your spirits to the floating isles and renounce your mortality to the storm child.

She who shall let thou eyes behold the lightning bolts retrieve thy soul. She who shall purge thy earthborn heart and submerge it into the dark. A sovereign who rules the upward earth, whose prayers favor mortal hurt. A pervert goddess who churns the winds, whose bolts target mortal men. Her spurts of magic are attracted to lighting rods. She is an alluring succubus to all the other gods. A hellish majesty cursed with the menstrual cycle of the female breed. A heartless, seductress beast whose alerted eyes meet behind the sparking orbs of electricity.

She is the dragon that guards these battled skies from the intruders that collide inside her kingdom. She is a queen that flies on temper tantrums from her cloud throne in her stormy sanctum. And I shall participate to persuade the inflictions of her parade of pandemonium. There is no need for an introduction- for an angel with a chemical imbalance of destruction. Lighting chaos. Wind havoc. Rain mayhem. Malevolent addict, let your intimidating lighting bolts strike upon their harvest grounds. Let fires ablaze and give birth to the flaming gardens that shall soon surround. Madly striking your topaz staff from your royal throne. Upon your head, a crown composed of branching thorns of lightning bolts. Forfeit thy fragile bodies and submit thy feeble brains to the witch with a twitch for human redemption and a sprinkle of insane.

I am breathing with another’s breath. I am feeling with another’s skin. I am gazing inside hazy storm eyes, hearing my voice chant for immortal sins. My arms are lifted toward the skies, fingertips pulling without my mind. I am someone else at this hour in time, perhaps a storm child on this earth, confined. I can hear your thundering dragon growls crackling behind the grey storm clouds. Your dangerous flashes alight these lands with such a deadly beauty that I can understand.

I, the robed wanderer who journeys my life away. You, the unseen archer that darkens the sun of day. A turban wrapped around my head, the winds blow my shredded cape while I climb up the highest mountains in search for my escape. And YOU, my beautiful, imperial queen. Just PLEASE break these heavy chains of HUMANITY!

Such soft lips overlap mine in a slow, intimate kiss. A mysterious, shrouded face in the rain’s clouded mist. I admit defeat in her embrace of tingling intimacy, while she ravenously took away my earthborn virginity. My spirit followed her up to the dark clouds aligning, while I looked down and saw my lifeless body, electrocuted by her lightning. I crossed over into a kingdom built in the imagination of mortal horrors and twisted pleasures. There, my soul shall be kept forever above the warring, storm clouds of mother nature.

(The picture of Lightning above is copyrighted by Torsten Hufsky.)

Mummified, Yet Still Alive.

Mummified, Yet Still Alive.

And I opened up my heavy eyes to the darkness that had plagued the skies. Nooses swinging from the cherry trees. I know I will not be able to break free- from the scavengers squandering pieces of my life. Go ahead bully, intimidate me. Let me see what your parents are like in reality. Because I’m locked inside a childhood state wanting to get bit by the cobra snake. This is all a dream. The zombies have won and they are taking our heads to decapitate. And I am ready to be gagged by an apple, so red. So I can be put on a plate, and be fed to the cannibals. They say that a phoenix will bust out of the egg, that is the sun. They say you can’t judge a book by its cover, but I have judged the book cover that you hold dearest to your son.

They say that a parade is coming, coming to pronounce me king. My mind always whispers to me, desires of such things. I got on their carousel made with skeletons of rotting horses. As the contraption spun me around, I began to see a blurry world of evil forces. Everyone I had met, thus far, were mutating into evil beings. They were manipulating naive children and playing with their feelings. I wasn’t going to be dizzy any longer on this suicidal carousel- that opens up the skins of cobras and exposes their inner-hell. My skinny, skeleton pony galloped over dessert dunes, in search for worthy people that could hum to snake charmer tunes.

Pyramids of corrupted evil. Pyramids of living dead. Pyramids of Egyptian Gods, still living inside your heads. Some died of thirst, and some fleshed out Pharaoh’s curse, but how can these entities be as cruel as the “mummies” living in YOUR universe? You people live like mummies. You are so fixed and so controlled. You wrap the world in ribbons of your own blindfold. You people live like dummies guarding the treasures of old. We are the humanoid jackals of night who bite off the heads of imbeciles. Through crawlspaces of temples, you hear us murmuring riddles- to resurrect ancient sphinxes and scarab beetles. A shadow creeps over your land in the body of a plague. As children drown in the swallowing quicksand, I know that they all cannot be saved.

To live in this denial age, just lower your hand into the cage. Stability and tranquility will help you stare into the cobra’s face. Hypnotize the viper’s deceptive eyes, but if you fail, you shall surely die. The sandstorm spins scarabs inside the ancient vortex that shall shred you alive. Your carrion shall quell the appetites of the vultures that guard the desert skies. And if your strong enough to survive, you have to challenge the sights of Horus’s eye.

The falcon flies around the piercing point of the pyramid. Will you sink into the glimmering sands, like all of the others did? The mystic hieroglyphics glitter upon the temple’s walls. Will you be there beside the Doberman Pharaoh as he watches your humanity fall? The animalistic Gods and Goddesses shall make their long awaited return while the candles of Egypt’s past quietly burn.

Is your friends camouflaged behind a serpent-skin facade? Is your life camouflaged behind a dreamy mirage? Splash some water in your eyes, so you can see- that your world is being overrun by mindless mummies.

You people act as zombies wrapped in preservation cloth. You people live like mummies worshiping the salvaged remains of an ancient tome, still lost. So, put me on your prayer list. Let them know that I exist. I bare many burning welts due to the rugged leather of the bible belt. So, whip me like a Pharaoh’s slave. Tell me how I need to think. Board me up ‘til no escape. Yet, the cobra’s venom still burns through my veins. You people live like mummies, you will never evolve through time. You will never adapt from anything, than thinking with “one” mind.