Submissions by TheVORTEXRETURNS

Countless beams of resplendent light. The illumination
of inescapable judgments.
The lustrous fires of a focused might.  

The overpowering foreknowledge of fate and its purpose.  Though an evil was unleashed.
The shackles that bind us unable to subdue its menace.
It glows with the light that would make us cower hiding all of are secrets.
Its blinding reckoning would make us fearful of its purpose.
The silence that would descend would overpower the winds that surround us.

The reckoning of that vivid test would ultimately prove ...

Had I gone to extremities to gear my persona so legendarily.
Me J>r> the Kook of DUP.....  Went off the grid for a bit to see
what more time must be spent...

I journeyed to the key's of Floridian quadrants drinking margaritas.  
And Poeticizing incurious sonnets.  
In my lair of Ill Repute and lagoon of debaucheries and slander's.
I sunk to new found lows of ecstasy like eating crack mixed with
Col. Sanders.


Later time seemed to be of the passing sunsets and sunrises flew
by as I was fasting.  Gaining a more moral...

To not let the parables of rhyme
undo my feeble amorist and verse.
To not let the seething weariness of
time and test.  Undo the span
of an unending curse.
To not see the cryptic patterns that leapt beneath the morrows.
To not let memories of my fading quest.
Feed my nightmarish sorrows.
To be young again.  Oh how this thought makes me cower.  For I know of its price and grandiose deals undoubtedly.  The tragedies of this feeble wielding deal.  A canker upon morality.   As the truth would seem so forgotten with finality becoming so unreal.  

But ever notice those famous singers that been around forever. 
They have been there since you were young and were maybe 
forced to listen to them by an older sibling. 

You have listened to them so long they seep into your head 
and take root.  So now when they are played on the old time 
radio..  You enjoy the old tunes.  Though you faintly seem 
to remember when you were younger and not that big into it. 

Like I told a friend once...."You know you're getting old 
when you start understanding and appreciating Mellon camp." ...

The echoing phantasmal sonic time distorting  
implosions.
As images morph by at hyper-space commotions.

Phenomenons of illusion made undoubtedly
tangible.
In a World of bitter patience soon
the majority became hospitable.

The minds eyed editor and architectonic of
these multi-implicable intentions.  
Would weave this once faint dream into a
cosmic and permanent invention.