swilow
Bluelight Crew
IOT218 9+3 is 11
Written when in a DMTrance.
IOT218 9+3 is 11.
Florescent archangels with 93 voices
Painted in pastels and neon-display
Clown-face leering in a border-land, fearing
that a morbid clan of mute-ants
Have aeons to stay
In a shame-ber of deserts and a desert of luck
Where the peasantry crows for a wedding to fuck
each other and another sky-raper falls in debris.
This desert and its queen are made of fallen cities
The archangel wanted,- no, wanted no wanting
And in wanting, her demeanour lit from yellow to sallow
Then to pitch-black purple and back to a scar
standing white upon the alms, did they bless your birth?
I was left within a nest made of nothing, not earth,
of the lurking fluro-queen
who takes what he will
Takes what he kills when he's wasted on pills
And vomiting his queenly splendour onto a child
That child was me and ended everything inside
It started to remerge under the stark neon glare
Neon-grey like the sound of thunder rumbling despair
Or a pattern ov astaroth in morbid Las Vegan
territories where a haven is a rope and a chair.
There passed to my right this display of the plants
And it lasted for a night just like the flaying of jesus
when he would not concurr that the temple was him
But he denied not the fact that an ending was near.
And it appears, now the moleules have left the synapse what a dream
Did I have? when the thunder-bells clapped
Was it real, did the angel truly answer my call
and then its gone, leaving here, now
All shall fall.
Painted in pastels and neon-display
Clown-face leering in a border-land, fearing
that a morbid clan of mute-ants
Have aeons to stay
In a shame-ber of deserts and a desert of luck
Where the peasantry crows for a wedding to fuck
each other and another sky-raper falls in debris.
This desert and its queen are made of fallen cities
The archangel wanted,- no, wanted no wanting
And in wanting, her demeanour lit from yellow to sallow
Then to pitch-black purple and back to a scar
standing white upon the alms, did they bless your birth?
I was left within a nest made of nothing, not earth,
of the lurking fluro-queen
who takes what he will
Takes what he kills when he's wasted on pills
And vomiting his queenly splendour onto a child
That child was me and ended everything inside
It started to remerge under the stark neon glare
Neon-grey like the sound of thunder rumbling despair
Or a pattern ov astaroth in morbid Las Vegan
territories where a haven is a rope and a chair.
There passed to my right this display of the plants
And it lasted for a night just like the flaying of jesus
when he would not concurr that the temple was him
But he denied not the fact that an ending was near.
And it appears, now the moleules have left the synapse what a dream
Did I have? when the thunder-bells clapped
Was it real, did the angel truly answer my call
and then its gone, leaving here, now
All shall fall.
Written when in a DMTrance.
IOT218 9+3 is 11.

Theres an OTO lodge near where I am living (Melb. Australia) but I don't really like the hierachical structure....