“The crowd is the gathering place of the weakest; true creation is a solitary act.”

— Bukowski

SZA - Shattered Ring [Z]:

“If you’re losing your soul and you know it, then you’ve still got a soul left to lose.”

— Charles Bukowski  (via napsie)
You wan go to war? We tek you to war, okay?

“But who prays for Satan? Who, in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most?”

— Mark Twain (via observando)


When the knots of peace are undone

When the grounds are pregnant with bodies

When the boy is lying in the middle of the street with a loaf of bread in his hand

And the holy men have been rounded, refused the last meal and hanged

An agent of evil can only [Dissolve] [Disintegrate] disappear.

Tyrants will take to the hills

War crimes will take shelter behind time

T[he]i[r] intentions unseen

Perhaps good men are seen too harshly

As the spectrum of light is restricted

And more limited when the beholder is starved  

Order a car

Adjacent to the massacre

To take you to the station when the rush occurs

Leaders on the run

Meter on the run

This city is done

Her mission is done

Let this poison take position among people

For crowds offer convenience to killers in concealment

Some die before their trial

Their end song drowns out the cries of men they imprisoned without trial

The oppressed, the defaced and the ones they made to lay waste

Escaping the courts of Adam’s seeds

To find themselves facing the One in the highest seat

Her exit was written in genesis

To move when the streets are flooded like a red Venice

When his senses undress her victorious secrets

Like the Lebanese baker turned strategic rebel to invaders

No more shells to sound

No more pleasure in town

Carrying a bag loaded with hearts

The stitches woven by the nymphs of Hermes

 To withstand the weight from tearing them apart

She is the bearer, the distinguished

The finest student in the art

You can only prove a sniper by the swift dart sent from the dark

No remnants, no traces

But men will remember

As much as their belief in the unseen

They will look into the barrenness

And study the unknown

And when sparks are shot

Like the flares from the dark spot of a sun

Their signals and devices will be rattled

As shadow casts a shadow

A shroud as gift in her battle

Girl moves to city and starts trouble

And the eyes of her train emerge from the underworld tunnel…