FEELING THE VOID……..

I use to have nothingness inside voided out from my enter guide deaf dumb and blind going through life on borrowed time. Traveling alone the same roads of love one’s living up to their expectations and spiritual motivations  because they said it was true. But who knew from feeling the void I can practice a voice of my own that I didn’t practice even tho I was grown I felt so empty being exposed to other people’s life sometimes temped me to say fuck it I’m going to do as I please and then the old folks tell me I need to get on my knees and talk to a man who didn’t look like me I’m so empty as time pasts I didn’t have the faith I use to have but I was still empty from all the bullshit they sent me damn do I even know who I am the more they told me to pray the more I would stray I’m so glad I did. never have a choice as a kid. but it was something down deep in the inside  that told me let me be my guide  and ever since then I’ve been feeling the void excavating the truth from a mountain of lies now my eyes have seen that which was hidden because I’m traveling the roads that was forbidden. along this path you would never have the friends you though you had because there back is against you. your family would never be the same when the slave maters the blame he took it  all including your name and tamed you with his religion  regardless of your decision  but some how speak about his god and all of the love he say he has but freely took his whip and beat your ass damn. I start thinking how ignorant it would be to sit next to the devils pulpit and pat my feet not me I’m feeling the void everything that was implanted in me is now destroyed.                                             Amon  Blackstone

Advertisements

ILLUMINATED

Oh eyes haven’t seen  the luminosity of  our enter stars  the galactic byways and lonely dark highways of distance blackness with the absence of guided light the existences of hopeless entities circling through out time and space for I have seen the glare from on top of the mountain I have drunken from celestial  fountains  and became aware of  this shadow world. In it I must  suppress my earthly scent and life force or be devoured in the mist of the boneless one’s for I have traveled to the place of my transcendence an on earths plain I have spilled the blood that runs through my very veins vigorously illuminated my serpents our now elongated up my spine placing their fangs in my fertile mind transforming me from conscious to super conscious divine. Now I sense a presence inside of my presence urging me to stick my left hand inside of its hand. Taking me to the land of no illusions where I hear legions saying you do not fear us, come near us  you have appeased and effortlessly seen through the curtains of the transparent worlds you have been reanimated many times illuminated. To do great things for you sing praises of thy self. In and out of portals of life and death  the cosmos exist in the innards of our flesh from our cerebral cortexes  to the deepest depths of our solar plexus as above so as below. for I traveled through multidimensional realms of ascension gaining knowledge from multiple  copies of myself which in turn manifested magical  Sigils. I am ILLUMINATED……..Amon Blackstone

Sacred self………

troubled sky’s in a  forsaken world of misfits and stormy clouds pined down by this blanket of shadows with a devilishly  grim fate the smirks of under cover enemies staring at me so lifelessly as if they can see my troublesome soul alleys of broken glass comfort me. as if maybe I can hide myself under the black of night commotions startle me  from and upper room the howling screams of someone’s painful fate. As I walk through the alleyways of broken glass I cant help but to think someone is watching me maybe because of the eerie sounds of rusty chains swaying from side to side with every couple of seconds a clink,clink I started to move more rapidly. As my heart beats vigorously I’m now drenched by my on perspiration. fearful of  my own sudden death out of the corners of my eyes I see a figure so vivid  and clear stocking me like late night prey could it be the fifth I Had of that good old Johnny walker playing tricks on me one to many drinks I guess or is this real it  was not up for debate. As I turn the corner and walked through the puddles of muddy waters I remembered my pocket knife and I though I’m going to Kill this mother Fucker. being that I’ve never killed anyone before I shook nervously like a leaf on a tree. joyful for a dark opening I entered and waited to confront my fate. as I Stood there my life flashed before me instantly  I can see all that I’ve done wrong painfully awaken by a harsh reality I can now see myself an arrogant self-centered cheating bastard that’s not even worth the air I breath. And then I heard a splash could this be my last day on this crummy earth with my sweaty palms I held on to the only defense that I  had my lonely pocket knife ready to drive the blade inside of a juggler  I anticipated a bloody fight. footsteps of my would be murderer sounded like they were getting closer to where I stood scared to pieces I boldly peeked An saw nothing but the cold stare of my shadow reflected by and alley light Damn. Could it be that I’m delirious Spooked for all this time by the Demons inside of me In that dark corner I vowed to change my life if I could just get out of this Alive. Many nights I wrestle with my sacred self. knowing that for every action there’s a reaction when it comes to the matter of self knowing this I often live out of a bottle hoping that it could drown my weary sorrows to conquer self and do away with ego in a world of troubled sky’s a storm is coming full of lighting and shadow clouds would I have the strength to travel the alleyways of broken glass to find a place to embrace my holy sacred self out of this rain…………..D.D Kirkland  BE SURE TOO CHECK OUT MY OTHER BLOG ON THE RIGHT THE DD.KIRKLAND THEORY THANKS

Manifesto of truth

This is my manifesto of truth no matter how hard it may be I will tell the truth in words an deeds I will pick out the weeds in my perfectly groomed lawn I shall sing praises to the coming Dawn this is my manifesto of truth I will pull words out of my word well I would get back up even if I Fell oh how beautiful is the ever so underlying truth. That’s lets me bury the hatchet and hang lie’s in a noose if you always try forget you’ll never grow from the past so live life everyday as if it’s your last don’t be mad this is my manifesto of truth because I’m the maker the owner the very cream of my enter earth if you can’t deal with you it want work this is my manifesto of truth and sometime’s it feels like my well then ran dry so  I often  close my eyes and inhale and exhale a new light that’s shimmering so bright it takes meditation to see yourself through this looking-glass. a self-reflection can be very hard you may cry enough  tears to fill up the boulevard in your own manifesto of truth it might send you through the roof but it would still be the truth manifested from the inside out  that’s why I’ll send you my undying peace and love on the wings of  a Reiki Dove healing from the lie’s healing for dealing with the truth about yourself you never really needed a book all you needed was self………..DD.Kirkland

Title-less

I’ve had a dream that I woke up and the hold room was filled with smoke and out of the gloominess something spoke Oh reluctant one why are you still keeping me bottled up inside let the world know it is you that has the voice Ive giving you to speak and let your words be as the sky long and blue never-ending like  the  shadows where you can not see the start nor the beginning the multiplicity of Drops raining down on a cruel world for you are the hand of the weak the hand of the faint at heart now let me guide you into this marvelous dark matter that scatters through the universe at warp speed every part of humanity is energy so how can we be defined we are title-less full of Energy body and mind so behold if it was not for you our story would never be told. So be bold I am title-less,nameless faceless an outline just as a silhouette I reside between here and there in a world similar to a hologram tell me who do they say I am how can they call me any earthly names when I am unknown anonymous to mankind I am title-less……..DD.Kirkland

RAIN…..

its something magnificent about the night-time rain it calls to me as every individual rain drops its speaking its name in octaves of musical notes in hopes to find standing waters its son and its daughters from the heavens beyond space. it finds its place to be consumed by vegetation its substance brings life  and creation it rejuvenate’s the land. Its something magnificent about the night-time rain oh how can I explain it cools you off on hot and muggy days the birds gather in it and play the flowers bloom in delight a metamorphosis takes place in the black of a rainy night how can one for get the glorious breeze  of the night-time rain so refreshing and invigorating its something magnificent about the night-time rain so hypnotizing invoking emotions of relaxation and glee it put most of us too  sleep but not me I listen to its many different  notes fall over roof tops rolling off of rocks dripping into puddles with an ongoing flow ever tried  to count the rain drops I’ll bet you’ll be asleep before they stop my gifts our uncountable like the multitude of rain drops its something magnificent about free thought writing with my windows open hearing the rain drops fall i’m compelled to write to it like a songwriter with a beat because its something magnificent about the night-time rain……Perfectblack

LITERARY TREND SETTER…..

It’s not about where I put  quotation marks periods or god forbid any grammatical errors oh what terror a writer brings dress up in his uniform absent from creations bamboozled by an abstract writer that strays away from academia I look at it like a cancer you can call leukemia eating away at fluency in real time side tracking your mind losing  your train of though let me tell you for get what you been taught because it a billion plus writers dress up in the same old  uniform torn by a missing period in the second line missing the magic and the massage at hand oh man he did’t indent in his paragraph he must of just lagged while the others advanced in his class but a true writer is a maverick individualist a nonconformist with a freewill so How can you rally over my skills criticizing my personal thoughts just because your inside of the box i’m a trend setter an I will do what ever………….Perfectblack