THE OPEN MIC CYPHER

asylum · 05-12-2016, 07:04 AM

A cloud opened, revealing a strange figure,
Face disfigured, he limped to the shrine he touched with a finger,
The ceiling opened revealing the heavens and hell in between,
You could hear the demons in hell as they screamed,
Each fell into pools of acid composed of their sins,
Smoke rose in moments frozen in time feeding their demons within,
As the floor opened a thousand soldiers arose,
Crushing the skulls of nomads around enclosures they hold,
A child lay motionless froze, exposed to the cold,
In the hands of soldiers they hold their key,
To enormous scenes across the great plains,
Buffalo steaks brains cabaza lengua and maze,
Brought back to their tipis where they smoke in a daze,
Lost in their chosen page, exposed to a change,
Souls aren’t vanquished by the elements cuz the chosen remain.
but the time betweens a line that we often ignore,
lost in the fog of war, life's lost and scorned.
Pages lost and torn. Yet the same stories so often born.
Once we learn to stop ignoring history, we'll stop it's form..
yet, who stops to mourn.. Many, it's true.
Dial your radio to your hegemony's tune..
I'm lost in the News.

05-12-2016, 07:04 AM	#11
asylum Senior Member Join Date: Sep 2014 Posts: 999 Battle Record: 7-5 Rep Power: 8214211	A cloud opened, revealing a strange figure, Face disfigured, he limped to the shrine he touched with a finger, The ceiling opened revealing the heavens and hell in between, You could hear the demons in hell as they screamed, Each fell into pools of acid composed of their sins, Smoke rose in moments frozen in time feeding their demons within, As the floor opened a thousand soldiers arose, Crushing the skulls of nomads around enclosures they hold, A child lay motionless froze, exposed to the cold, In the hands of soldiers they hold their key, To enormous scenes across the great plains, Buffalo steaks brains cabaza lengua and maze, Brought back to their tipis where they smoke in a daze, Lost in their chosen page, exposed to a change, Souls aren’t vanquished by the elements cuz the chosen remain. but the time betweens a line that we often ignore, lost in the fog of war, life's lost and scorned. Pages lost and torn. Yet the same stories so often born. Once we learn to stop ignoring history, we'll stop it's form.. yet, who stops to mourn.. Many, it's true. Dial your radio to your hegemony's tune.. I'm lost in the News.