The Cynic Communtity

Silenced operations  ~ Miss A Raging soaring rhythms, and an eye for the keeper, Steal some moments, go tippy toes, disappear, With a friend of yours as dark as the night, A method of escapism, of being alone, of being with yourself and the souls crying. They keep giving suggestions, not to look at the mirror down moonlight, Oo how beautiful, charges the voice of the night, stirring pure choas in sight, Dweeling in the warmth of the silver dark light, How to not be mesmerized, facades are traumatizing. Deep plum purple paints, tough blood staining red,  and blue of galaxy shades, All tend to highlight the tone, hugging at right places,  But nothing suits as perfectly as the moon lit tone itself, Suddenly all the drowsiness fades away, and all is left are the wind blows and the thunder. In a battle of bluffs, you taught me to say the truth, not my thing, But it seems like a new game must be played now that you win, Oh no be smart, don't do this shite again, what you have on bet is a

 Frustrating art   ~Miss A Little to the delve like a heart frustrating, Crave the stones into one single being.  A thought of art and the artist cries, For to bring it to life; he's beyond unqualified. For wandering in the dense shrubs of the garden, He's found a melody, sung by the bees on the leaves by the rain. A hymn he found just so pure, he wishes it to dictate, Easy as it occurred; quickly lost its trail to the complicated. How many musicals have been played, of it were to the debris of nature, Fine mallets and brushes, and he'd crave an instrument. Something which could sustain the warmth of the player, Something which resonated the blows of time and verse the hunger. Coat it with innocence, mask it with unclosed eyes, ecstasy and rejoice, And to make it hollow, give it space, to hold some insights.  But how to do this with stones, nothing so complex like this sculpture, No beginning no end, how to build a breathing Brent. To build a brain passage, scribbles filled

Juin Dunes ~ Miss A And just then I remembered once again, the starting of a hellish phase, Heat strokes and burning skins, the home of the nightmares, it's June again. A June as juvenile as justice, a June as junevibbed as jury, And me a plaintiff, listening and hearing every movement so desperately. Is there something to care about, even yourself, lost appetite, Isn't it fun to bury the dark humour in the dunes of sand. What is a dream? Gobble it down and you'll remember chains better, Wore a knit expression, and all they thought was oh so happy. Barbed out, I can feel it again in the skin, Addiction to poison only kills, but oh lord the sin. Pushed the water to the beach, tribe cold drip, Give it what is needs and heavens parade crip. Don't want to change anything about it,  But maybe preserve as much as possible, try harder. What's do I tell you more about, we don't see comfortably, But to sentiment it in a bottle, you'd understand without a word spoken.