Archive for the ‘Enigmatic Poetry’ Category

A Motion Cycle’s The Resolution. The order in which the poems should be read. These poems will appear in a poetry e-book I’m writing titled “Fishing for Sirens”.

The Fisherman
The Resolution
The Divine
The Antagonistic
The Needy
Fated for Catastrophe
The Veil
The Logical Sense of the Granted
The Pretender
The Wounded
Aphorismos
Finding Work in Idle Hands
The Executioner
Agean Chain
The Invisible
Elysium

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Probably Ryan Lyandree’s final poem/song…

The Fisherman

Enter the hyphens to draw the horizon
This is the path I must take, from now on
Make way for the temple that has arisen
The parcels are coming to commemorate themselves.

Clutch onto your body, not to lose your spirit
This baptism of fire has other plans for you
Watch as this fisherman is fishing for sirens
It seems to be the only thing he knows how to.

Talk about the reeling
Talk about the bait
This path seems appealing
A trail I should take.

Spurting his blood to feed off the Wyvern
This is the pact I’ve signed, where I belong
Make way for the darkness tearing asunder
The pillars are coming down, burying us both.

Hold tight your chest, not to lose your soul
The drizzle of sulfur’s to acid, as coal is to oil
Beware of the callous in hunt of the weary
That the assemblage of angels is called on to foil.

Talk about the reeling
Talk about the bait
This path seems appealing
A trail I should take.

Stare at the wave that is swallowing us under
Look at that fisherman just fishing in his boat
Two suns are for eyes, and voice like a thunder
It seems he’s the one that keeps us afloat.

Shrouded in mystery is the life of us Pisces
When the age of Aquarium is now just upon
Two spectrum apart, contrary and in crisis
Two entities divided, striving to become one.

Talk about the reeling
Talk about the bait
This path seems appealing
A trail I should take.

More poems/songs by “Ryan Lyandree”

Aphorismos

Principles of men are in the line
For the one person abled to sign
Resentment disguised as eloquence
Millions of billions of tons of torrents.

Ghoulish shrieks attempting to be voiced
Rather strident but left with no other choice

Apply fire and brimstone to give meaning
Innate behavior of the human condition
Consume and dispose of what’s remnant
Deface the essence of every conviction.

In the “City of God”
“If you run, the beast catches you
If you stay, the beast eats you”
So…

“Damned if you don’t
Damned if you do.”

Particles, the bosons are solidifying
High energy, large mass adjoining
Electrons, protons and neutrons
Orbiting symmetrically around the nucleus.

Black holes devouring darkness and stars
Fragments of God escaping whizzes and wizards

Apply logic and substance to display implications
Solely to simplify our ingrate presumptions
Feeding on our hypothesized lustful connotations
Ignoring the injurious, devastating ramifications.

After the Big Bang
“Out of chaos the universe was born”
“Temperature and pressure became hydrogen and helium”
So…

“Hang from the branches”
“Sleep with the fishes.”

Axiom
Maxim
Axiom
Maxim
It sounds like acts of pseudepigraphy.

Apply fire and brimstone to give meaning
Apply logic and substance to display implications…

“Hang from the branches”
“Sleep with the fishes.”
“Hang from the branches”
“Sleep with the fishes.”
“Damned if you don’t
Damned if you do.”
“Damned if you don’t
Damned if you do.”
“Damned!!!
If you don’t!
Damned!!!
If you do!!!.”
Only to die wondering
“Who holds the truth?”

The Math
(Written on June 5, 2016)

So the sky fell into the dark days
So the road turned into a swerve way
And the mirage of the divine
Turned your beverage back from wine.

Such a perfect picture of disenchantment
When the wolves hide within the sheep
And though now you’re blinded by this excitement
Pray to God this doesn’t drag you in too deep.

If the result doesn’t add up with the numbers
There’s something certainly wrong with the formula
When fire weeps sound like roaring thunder
Then the conic section is an ellipse instead of a hyperbola.

So it was written a long time ago
But we were encouraged to believe so
When the devil talks like a Deity
We tend to turn our faith into absurdity.

Such a deceptive way to be captured
When our wounds become compulsion
And though then we waited on for the rapture
We decided that this was true absolution.

If the result doesn’t add up with the numbers
There’s something certainly wrong with the formula
When fire weeps sound like roaring thunder
Then the conic section is an ellipse instead of a hyperbola.

I’ve heard the voice of the devil
And he sings like the sweetest thing
I’ve seen the deep roots of evil
And they look like the most heavenly beings.

So when the waters rise soon to drown
We still will never learn the line needed to be drawn
For the greatest fear’s being taken for granted
But we again ignored it for the sake of feeling wanted.

33rd (AAIGA) (Part 1)
(Written on September 10, 2016)

The number of days that took for the resurrection
Is cloned twice in your degree and scribed on your ring
And by the time they wake up for the insurrection
You’ve signed on our foreheads and owned everything.

The number of the fiend is of that of this humanity
The faux minister certainly won’t preach about God
They feed on the chaos caused by continuous calamity
Cause the fallouts of the afterlife’s one thing they forgot.

This is a mate ceremony presented to the Great Architect
Offering progenies to be swallowed by the likes of Moloch
Cause the real symbols here are all about the mathematics
It was a bet made back when the spiritual battle was unlocked.

So when the alchemists disguised themselves as scientists
That’s when the witchcraft became the mother of cunning
The slithering being curled on a cane, denoting the evident
The obelisks erected must’ve given us the signs of a warning.

Séance
(Written on May 20, 2016)

My demon is laying here
Singing lullabies about my fears
Gently pushing my head down
Simply waiting for me to drown.

But this wasn’t part of the deal
My dreams were supposed to become real
And here you have me begging again for support
But you’re chocking me with your umbilical cord.

Oh, Lucifer, the superstition in my head
Why can’t I be part of your master plan?
Oh, Baal Zebu, the lord of façade
Why do you keep crushing me in the palm of your hands?

Cause I keep turning to you once more rejected
Cause you know I’m just a junkie and I’m addicted
And if my blood is worthless for you, then give it back!
You’ll return me to my life and we’ll break up the pact.

Décollation et Ax
(Written on June 1, 2016)

Here you have come
To return me where I belong
To the fire and brim
And the odium that streams
As it was written before
For the sanction and lore
To the divine infinity
And any other impossibility.

Here we are now
We’ve survived this somehow
To the steel and the stone
The ridge of the flesh and the bone
As it was once foretold
For the stick in the mud of the mold
To the one opposable
And any other one immutable.

Saviors and angels
Any kind of Theo-co-existence
To any other angle
Anything that comes as persistent;
Necromancers of the past
Gather up to raise your glass
Obstructing all that resurfaces
Obscuring all that’s polymorphous.