The-Utopia-Code

At the prow of a sunrise The air does move with sanguinity The expanding air Does break point The coldest chill of the morning Flees the morning rise And does so with many lands Across the prow of the sunrise.

From ruinous fortitude does come fear Forth from our souls and our minds Such a thing can bring endless calamity Forth from our souls and our minds To fight is to express fear To remain passive is a product of our mind Through ruinous tacit do our eyes find A fear that is unbreakable Unshakable Such do our eyes find To walk alone is to be among millions The very crowds we isolate from It has become habit - practice - demise No less true than our hearts that beat Life into our souls and our minds To treat life like a game is to lose To be to ingrained is to be subsumed It has become habit - practice - demise Forth shall we survive - surprise Things anew and alive is how we survive Again we find that curse is to have Too much is then to be much worse No rhyme can cast a shadow so bright No story can bestow hope or light In a world so dark we ever forget That love is to live, on that we can bet

I see the sea You see me with the sea The sea is with me Set sail Embarking to a new land Conditions were difficult Very so did my fortitude shrink My job never changed Yet changed was I Your face there on the dock Yet I knew never would I know you again Years to be travel Spirit did unravel Piracy was always a risk The ship was finely crafted Ten cannons promised safety in the high sea The cargo was simple A perfect sphere found Somewhere Silver it shined The Captain took hold of it His quarters did display Such an object I've seen Today Nothing changed, yet the sphere Saw all who came in contact They were remade - their strength Five-fold I craved such a prize My intrusion surprise My pistol carved half his neck He died instantly The prize was near I took hold of its polished surface My mind was undone Yet I remained sane Powerful yet mortal I shook the main deck With the thunderclap Ringing of impending weather I piloted that ship single handed Avoided storms, and

There is a young man, who had a very odd idea; he would convince to everyone he knew that he was a Psionic human. He was only ten - he wasn't really psychic, he knew he wasn't. They didn't, it was the convincing nature he perceived a Psionic person would - like he could read minds, or even change reality. He performed this illusion for so long that he actualized his true of ability. Psionic abilities that changed the world. There were more like him but a different personality, different manifestations. An impossible battle for right and wrong, being the views of some of the now adult Psionically powered, all remained covert in those circles fighting to keep the Meta Enhanced few and their power would be unmistakable.

The ribbon tracing the gilded cage Walking amongst the tiny So small Keeping pace with the clock that is never right Tick-tock, tick tock Walk, Walk Balance on one foot To test the balance of reality Tremble, fall Weld the corners of the walls Is reel, is real Laser pointer fixed on nothing Is there, is real Is real The now of the time, still wrong So long, the path Day became night Neon rain, so right Lost, so lost Too high, the cost Finally wide, now outside Work for that, no pay Sleeping with no eyes to see the night Flashed in the moonlight Eyes so big, so big Too small to see it all.

His reality, His universe was just that- Always moving through static universes Occupying his duplicates- For a moment, or for an hour- Where the time difference Was acutely slow. From the omniverse he lived in. Always moving - always. Everyone he ever knew- Were in reality those known by his duplicates. But he knew them all very well.

Sleeping silent in the dark of night A dream dared display In my unconscious mind It was not wholly lucid, languishing I fought the urge to simply run away Hoping time would start showing sunny day Stirred by external stimulus Stirred I awoke abashed again I left the unconscious unaware Moring time merely moving mending I found my mind familiar kind Drifting backward to slumberous images Memory ignites lucid living light No shadows in this recall read reversal Returning to such comfort inspiration Enthralled with senses heightened Endless fear rested near silent ear Slight olfactory of nightmare panic sweat

I once had an old broken-down car, Every couple of months it needed repair, But it was one of the first cars I had owned, And I did not want to give it up. Until a day came when the realization hit, That I had been caught by the sunk cost fallacy, So, I had it towed to the junkyard, Borrowed money and bought a new car. I suppose sunk cost can apply to other decisions, Do we continue to invest in a relationship, Where fights erupt continuously without growth? When do we say it is time to start over? Or perhaps you view your own life as a sunk cost, So much suffering and pain and for what? A death without meaning or redemption? And you are debating as to whether to continue... I wonder sometimes though, Whether God views the world as a sunk cost, So much blood spilled in the pursuit of power, A world where wisdom and peace never lasts. In truth, I see life and this world as a work of art, Yes, you we will all make mistakes and suffer, But we incorporate it into our own creation, For

I speak out of time, With the lost words, Of the uncreated, Dying to live again. Last life of the fallen, Born guilty/dying innocent, Forgetting to remember, Tomorrow was yesterday. Once I was a desert rose, Kissed by the wild wind, White like pure snow, Offering dew drops to you. That rose is still with me, Growing inside my heart, Pierced by its sharp thorns, The pain is my love song.

Sweet and sour raindrop on your tongue acid from a tin can tasting like everything that has left me blindfolded and now you can see for yourself in the soft light. Icy blue candlelight flame dancing on the edge of your rooftop that you were so afraid of the railing cold on my waist electric singing of an upside-down city in a red sunset. Stimulated senses feel like the loss of all touch in a deep dive watching the eclipse of the eyes change the exposure of my hard light.

I couldn't have been much older than nine when, strangely, something came over me and I felt the need to pull a prank on one of my neighbors down the street. I wasn't giggling maniacally to myself, no, it wasn't for laughs; rather, I felt utterly compelled. I grabbed a small box, probably an 8 inch cube, and inside I placed some turds that I had gathered from my cat's litter box. I sealed the box with tape, then I wrapped it up in blue gift paper, with a nice, big bow on top. I walked down the street, as if drawn magnetically to the corner in the cul-de-sac, and then, when I found a white car in a driveway with its window open, I placed the nasty gift on the driver's front seat. I left imagining some poor sap exclaiming, Gee, what, a prezzie for me? I pictured them unwrapping the gift and finding the tasty morsels nestled in the bottom of the box. Years later I learned that the neighbor in the corner of the cul-de-sac was arrested for producing kiddie porn for distribution. Now, I'm

Why? What did I do or say? To make their approach in a vulgar way? Is my skirt too short? Am I not covering enough? Was the way I looked giving a sign to approach? Why won't they leave me alone? Why won't they take a no? Why is nobody noticing what's going on? Are they blind? Or they don't want to see? Do they not see it on my face crying out saying HELP ME? They say it's consensual That gives him the permission Feed me all these lies made me fall into delusion Am I the reason? Is it my fault? That I deserve this abuse and assault Did I not yell DON'T PLEASE STOP loud enough? Did I not fight hard? That I deserve every bruise and scar Did I (truly) deserve it? Did I have it coming? Did I give him an invite by the way I was wearing? Does my perfume have a smell of prey? Am I not a human; Just another plaything? Is it truly my fault? Why do they say it is When truly...is not

From here, the sound of you swings left; my heart wants you first and I shadow. The day we met, she kissed you and I became her. From then, the sound of you was the ocean, the timbre of waves lapping golden. And you were my missing skin and what I know: when I met you, a blue rush began.