The Vault of Lost Tales

Memoirs of an Enchanted Sojourner

Month: July, 2014

UFO’s=Unilateral Fierce Organisms

The monsters have arrived, the aliens are already here

They hold positions high, wearing suits and mongering fear

They cause the innocent to die and draw destruction near

Their religion is the Lie and they hold thievery dear


Look to the sky and you see their mechanical birds and planes

They look just like you and I, but this is a deceptive game

They say they come in peace, but that word they defame

Herding humans like sheep and dividing beloved the same


They have destroyed the food supply and poisoned all the water

Stripped away our freedoms with false political fodder

Freezing all of our assets while saying the world is getting hotter

Destroying Mother Nature in the name of a bastard father


They say everyone is a terrorist while they commit the worst crimes

Steal the future from the youth and distort the truth of the times

Look no further than our overlords for alien invasion designs

Here you find the most malignant tumor, claiming to be benign

The Jewel of Mother Nature

There exists in this world a magical molten liquid Crystal

That can be caused to erupt by the cut of a knife, words, or pistol

After escaping its vessel it can become hardened and encrusted

If by violent means the vessel’s integrity is ultimately busted

Like all types of Crystal, this one carries many a memory

And can tell a story about its origin by its storage of energy

Mother Nature’s synergy changes its color from blue to red

As it cries out for the voice of those silenced among the dead

Precious is every drop, while still holding its liquid form

But if it escapes and hardens by ill means, then a new story is born

The Eye of Nature reads the energy from this hardened lava’s tale

And She makes changes in the Earth to balance its weight upon Her majestic scales

For it all is a part of Her being, gifted to every animated vessel of clay

The wasting of Her precious liquid gem She holds in scorn and dismay

No other than Her has the right to issue forth the red tide’s flood

Nature unleashes Her fury for spilling the gift of Her precious innocent blood


Who am I?

What am I?

Where am I?

Why am I?

When am I?

How am I?

Thoughts in my head

Whether alive or dead

I must screen through the voices

Inside my mind who offer me choices

Between different realities

Optional dimensional modalities

I hear these whispers, but cannot see them

Thoughts like flippers, in invisible seas I swim

Why do I not know from where I come?

And as to where I yet am headed, I am totally dumb

These eyes supposedly have given me vision

And yet I am blind to this life’s purpose and mission

This body more like an empty space or special room

Which my soul has been forced into, like a casket or tomb

My eyes like the goggles of a gamer’s virtual reality mask

I can’t see the others in the room for being put to virtual task

By the scene on screen before my so-called eyes

The crowd around me hoping I figure it out before losing all my lives

I hear them in my inner ear and in the whispers of my thoughts

Pining for me to somehow recall the fall in which I am caught

I am locked in a control room that outwardly appears as my body

But I hear the familiar inner cheers that jeer a construct so shoddy

The inner crowd roars when I defy the construct’s chores

Seeking an alternate route to dispute the game’s infinite scores

Neither failures nor achievements very much matter

The delusions of a game that makes you think you’re fatter

The mask is your eyes and it tells you many lies

Blinding you from all that you truly behold inside

A world not true, distracting you from the real you

Your reality ever virtual, no matter how much you ‘do

My eyes closed to the true room in which I really stand

Only able to hear the faint whispers of beloved who hold my hand

Conscious only in my coma, which I’ve come to believe is real

Unaware of how the beloved gathered around my hospital bed feel

Hoping each moment is the moment that I finally wake up

Take off my blinders and rise from this unconscious fake rut

STRINGS, lines, angles & things

A line is not alone, but a part of a circle

As is part of the Light Spectrum, the color known as purple

It all depends on your particular point of view

Perspective subjective to the vision of few

Physical sight is based on a small string of light

Hitting a tiny disc in the back of your eye just right

Then again still, it isn’t your eye that sees

But your brain that interprets the filtered degrees

Parts of a whole funneled through a tiny little hole

Like time, but a segment of the journey of your Soul

All deeds connected from that first little string

Strummed by the beating heart that chooses between things

A journey of a thousand choices

A chorus of countless voices

All tied together in the song called life

Until the strings are cut but fate’s sharp knife

Nothing in Nature wasted

A sample of wine tasted

To steer the masterpiece of a lively symphony

Music is an art of coordinating sound temporally

A note, a scale, a yell, a wail

Climbing an invisible ladder only the Composer can curtail

The composed cannot envision the totality of the mission

Knowing only its little part as an abstract condition

Follow the lines through every place where they join and connect

And you will find they lead to a destination you could hardly suspect

The angles, the lines, the strings and other things

Twisting, turning, spiraling, into a circle that convenes

Forming a perfected design of functional living art

Beauty in the sum of every piece playing its designated part