The Falls’ Prophet The False Prophet
written by: brado creamed corn author: Bradley R. A. Pine
Copyright Bradley R. A. Pine 1993
Published by: brado creamed corn recordings Publishing at: Smashwords
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DEAD LOST
lost in a world without
normal human perception
slowly stalking an unknown
humanoid: watching and waiting
now the moment to confront
the extra-terrestrial life
we meet, talk: "any hits?"
surely enough the most alien
species indulges those
perspective altering narcotics
being free to a new aura
of life, my newly found friend
and i consumed drugs – we
coasted off to a weird world
of great peace and tranquility
(brought on by tranquilizers)
where all was balanced in a
free flowing care environment
desired needs: gimmie-a-fixes
were totally killed off
the alien and i became one with our
surroundings all of this one being
individual to the same scene
a component of a puzzle creating
universal harmony through unified
culture: an art's masterpiece and as gods of no care
critiqued, i had found satisfaction
my lifetime achievement through a stranger, for i had
touched death.
DEAD LOST 2?
i think i'm dead i don't know though
do the dead think? i've never been
dead before so am i wasting
precious time now? i wonder if
i should have some expectations
maybe death is something i have
been involved with always and so
i am my own demise i hope
that's what it is but what does that
earn at this point? i can't share that
thought with other ones because they're
either dead like me or alive
and out of reach i guess i'll just
lie here like a dead-dead object
no more worries but what about
the others i've left behind? oh
well it doesn't matter that much
any how for they'll all become
hell bound through time i wish i had
a cigarette but then again
what use would that be without a
structure to use to inhale and
exhale with let alone enjoy
the killer with this dead life sucks
i wonder why science gave me
nothing to look forward to when
it has offered me a before
approach of my existence: life
and death are like evil siblings
related they hate each other.
ONE ALEISTER CROWLEY
now aleister crowley
was a spiritual man
an artist of the occult
repulsed by the christian ways
so he followed his own faith
a supernatural church
his peers disapproved of him
a hysterical homo?
he, the great beast 666
prophet of a new aeon
but banned by Mussolini
bestial cravings for sex
deficiency for drug use
(addicted to heroin)
obsession for his own strength
black magic was his bible
DISTORTED TOMBSTONE
only one tombstone unexplored feeling
do not hesitate greetings to the black
symptoms satisfy i have a girl
she is my headache keep me slow burning
encounter more years distorted coolness
MALICKI SAYS…
oh six-hundred sixty-six! - i'm completely isolated
non-conformists are my brethren - immortalized entertainer
i'm following the impulses - drinking towards stupidity
religion helps my journey home - lunatics triumph over me
utilize all the elements - i sin without hesitation
enchanting for animation - old believers need tradition
the night easily keeps me dark - brutality is from the blood
factions rule all into fractions - paganism independence
extreme prejudice is extreme - peasants see true reality
a holy fool is one who cares – communication’s the tool
someday i will win without war – oh six-hundred sixty-six!