PyramidPoetry

PyramidPoetry

Ride The Snake

Powers, Towers, Flowers, Ours

We’re all in a vivid picture
Minds read different scriptures
Unique fictions
Don’t burn different depictions
For the fruits of deception
From the Devil’s conceptions,
Lies dine fear
And the wine fuels hatred
The truth hurts all
But in the past it’s dated,
Shrivel the drivel like a prune or a date
Or a later date decaying debate
And see that it’s a way to change the ways of a failing paradigm
You say I’m whining, why!?
You lie, why?
For zeros on a screen
You add zeros to shaded teens
But I can see into the eyes of maniacs, brainiacs like I,
It’s like looking into a lion’s eye
This is the time
Zeitgeist does not lie,
Elevated minds will unwind
Precipitating signs that
The end is neigh
The fractious fabric of your nature is fated
Because we’re all some kind of nature.
I hope in this new world there’s room for you,
I really do
And when flags are on fire
Attire doesn’t matter,
Because all of us are matter
Religion regresses, men can wear dresses
Deconstruct corrupt constructs,
We can then inhale the fresh
Like the Prince of Bel Air -
We have our ball back
We’re our own saviours
We’ll reap the fruits of our labour

From weeds under the towers, grow flowers

This garden is ours

I hope ash doesn’t taste too sour.

Questions of Travel

I’ve been dealt a good hand
And I’m a master of my cards like Yugioh
Every night
I stare at the moon thinking where do we go?
The night fills me with wonder
Through the days I wander
Through dreams and the seams on the fabric of nature
I ponder the relation between the soul and this armour - this shell
I wish this mission was dished to me in a nutshell, 
Instead of on the devil’s grill, filled with innocence and experience
Transient in the science of a poet in the format of
A low key motif, through old teeth
I pledge this world comes with me
Yours does too
The universe is within you,
Red is blue like the
Misconception of a lobster
Don’t falsify the master of disaster
I’m a master blaster
My dread’s locked up like Rasta
But we’re pretty much pasta
So let your cast last but enjoy your passing
We’re more than just gasses, 
Fuck confessing just
Make sure your
Astrals progressing
From the lands of sand, big kittys and eternal keys
Morality is key
Reality is an ability, more than what we can see
Gold soul theory.
But what is life really?

Rambling Shambles

pyramidpoetry:

I’m sick of by passing, saying bye bye to by-passers
I need to lessen this blessing
Hope that God doesn’t need addressing
and there’s no need for confessing
I don’t need to be progressing
I’m at rest when regressing
Nostalgia’s a curse and a blessing
Thinking back to reception,
Look back…

INFINiTE

pyramidpoetry:

I’m infinite

I look into my mind,
I tear it apart
Overthink then it becomes dark and
Then restart and then start to talk about how it’s all part
Of life
But I’m at one with this knife
I’m not suppose to fuckin cyph-er
I’m not a mic spitter, poet, wordsmith or rapper
Just a white boy with…

On The Water’s Edge

Am I just the face of incest?

Or am I a case of space or born blessed?

Time is an illusion

Illuminate the manifestation

Of Man’s creation

and understand the relation

Between death and salutation,

Born to die

I die to be born

Lies are beyond closed doors

Manipulating minds, precipitating time

Warning signs and

We’re warring why?

Money is just wood - power

We’re not dead wood, I’m sour

This life is ours, not the Towers

Shadowing the golden flowers 

Will numbers keep you happy on the eve the demon devours?

Look beyond your eyes, apply a new sight and

Enjoy a blue summer’s night

Don’t bleed blue young knight

Don’t seed fury

This old story.

Standing on the tower’s point

Contemplation corrupts corruption

Astral musings produce new movements

And water wets humans.

The cosmos includes green moss

So does space include us?

The stars are a pretty picture when

The moon merges with this river

The fumes, incense of lavender,

I’m happy here 

On the water’s edge.

Space is Breathing

If space is an infinite entity

Then death is not the end of me

Birth is not the start of me

Life is just a blip within an infinity
That recycles affinity, virginity and even divinity.

(Source: pyramidpoetry, via pyramidpoetry)

Gold>Gold

pyramidpoetry:

Palm trees
Green leaves
Weed seeds
We see
More than you, do you?
A poet in low-key
A man of mischief
Like Loki,
Grey seas
Replace
Exotic trees
New lies
Replace old purity
Pagans become puritans
Shamans
Become salesmen,
A soulless generation
Gold-less and godless
Cosmos is extraneous
Extraterrestrials
Are now wanderers
Wonders are monotonous
And the future is anonymous.

God?

Without me, what are you?
We are not asleep, we are not a dream
He is not in charge, I am free
I am me
We are two, we become one
And equal three
A mould grows like mold
And a story becomes reality.

Chagall's Picture

pyramidpoetry:

Violins in this pink sky
A cow in this cowardly mirror
Purple trees stand by this red river
Golden grass moves throughout this picture.
Clouds assume you move through into the mountains too
Do you? Draw music notes up up high
And write lyrics, so that people who understand it
Can out stand…

pyramidpoetry:

Beyond the Bonds of this Chaotic Pond

pyramidpoetry:

Beyond the Bonds of this Chaotic Pond

Little Commoner

pyramidpoetry:

A commoner
A commoner
A dirty little commoner
A commoner
A little fucking commoner
A commoner.

Left unwashed, mashed, strapped of cash
Born lashed, ready to blast, life turned to ash
Can’t afford uni, only juvey,
Fast tracked from the slum to the slam
Stripped from a human to ham
Born to die,…

Don’t Trip Over

Capture beauty

Harness it.

Is it a flower? A power?

Art? A part of the body?

Is it to-be smart?

God’s image isn’t a pretty one

Fibonacci’s numbers aren’t a petty sum,

So why are there snobs and others, scum?

Money meets fun and glum

Like the prospect of a paper gun.

Disconnection, dissipation, disassociation

DISS, DISS, DISS

Dystopia in a place where

We all go, and we all come

There’s meaning beyond but be careful

There’s peril in wisdom

So stay sterile

In this cerebral

There’s a Ferrell child

A lust for nature 

The wild star-tiled pile of fertile aisles.

A mushroom kite,

A sight for cat’s eyes

TIC-TOC, TIC-TOC,

The rabbit’s habits habitually happen

The clock on the chest begins to blossom

Two eyes lie back, I lay on my back and play dead like a possom

Third one open, my mind twists and tosses

Muses past lives,

Ancient like fossils

- This moss is lit purple

- This grass is bliss, blue

- This moon is green, this loon is freed.

Nature, my Queen.

Red Time

Time ain’t here

Flesh is.

You can’t see time here

But you see flesh

Bloodied, red, rotting

Dead.

You don’t see time here

But you see flesh fed with lead.

This red beach features creatures,

Leeches attached to features neglect

A star-screened sky, but it’s nature which teaches,

Brown the White House with my feces

Thirdeye?

See I see eye to eye with my conscious

But you can’t, you’re born farmed

Raised for slaughter, tele taught ya

Enjoy the abattoir,

Counting sheep should haunt ya. 

(Source: restinpeaches, via reviring)

Coffee and Cake Facade

coffee and cake facade
you’ve changed
you’re not part of the same arm,
which becomes a flower
time was ours
but now it’s sour
How’re you? I don’t give a shit now, truthfully,

beautifully beiruet

travelling to the days in school, when you turned beetroot, but now
you’re coo,
i’m blue, 90s nostalgia
da ba dee da ba doo,
neglect projects regretful reflections
pulled away like c-sections
sick of these phonetic connections


and clouded rejections

coffee and cake facade
you’re in a dream, and it’s hard
but i’m going now, tra
fading stars, blacking hearts.