Tuesday, 25 December 2012

The Case Of The Missing Mermaid (Part 2)

               The Case Of The Missing Mermaid (Part 2)
by Stormm
(c) December 25 2012

"Nun would be a dead fish to let this rare catch slip away..."

Being somewhat well versed in mystic and metaphysical lore.

My crime,

will be enabling Undines permanent physical access

to this here material plane.

Oh no, no, no.
What could a pearl diver like me end up discovering with these?

To whom it may concern.

"Dear Reader, by the time you get this message it will already be too late."


Scorpio gazes into the suppressed floor to ceiling wall of water directly ahead.

As each focused upon section of the tide glows,

vague shapes and colours began to populate,

previously faint impressions unfolding,

while entire sensory environments solidify...

In The Mystic Magic Ocean,

events continue to unravel, manifest 3D panoramic movies,

complete with full bodily sensations.


he'll be able to direct the space time continuum in any direction.

But for now it randomly boils and bubbles,

at often times distant intergalactic locations just pop right up,

spontaneously unwinding.

He can see her assuming another form now,

presently undetected within the new identity.

But gradually her old world Ifa ways will resurface,

the stolen personality masks slipping off in plasmic dissolvement.

Others will soon start to notice more progressively strangeling antics.

Until she eddies out of control, enacting weird passions,

lapses into savage mannerisms, stimulate odd unearthly obsessions...


Inside the liquid magic mirror, a scene unfolds:

Huge wolverine like creatures scamper off into darkness,

while full moons illuminates suburban night skies.

From the shadows a neon green slimy gum pink blob emerges,

adopts several humanoid physiques, before merging back with shadow...

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Wednesday, 19 December 2012

Venus Tantra's Profile

                            Venus Tantra's Profile
by Stormm
(c) December 19 2012


Fish Speakers phase moody like the moon,

even more so,

being purely emotional astral water entities,

they'll feel incomplete while separated from the sea.

Prone to bizarre inhuman behaviour, clingy and possessive.

Sensual, with those irresistible "all the better to drown you in" big emphatic eyes.

Imaginative, coy, idle, dreamy and subtle.
Did I mention the ability to heal and regenerate.

Psychic space time projectors blur all sequential order,

confounding even the illogic of one trained to smell patterns

where novices cautiously sip chaos.

This was so not going to be your average

Magus Falls In Love With Gorgeous Undine scenario,

where naive parties forge pacts to live together for a specified period,

or until The Heretic's eventual tragic demise.

"Who knows what forgotten occult talents would manifest?

which buried treasures will resurface from the souls' depths?"

2 female members of 2 Secret Societies had been nominated,

2 surrendered their flesh 2 astral beings, 2 Carousels.

10 to 1 odds,

there are scattered acolytes unwittingly trapped in various astral zones,

currently doing the terrible bidding of some low level scum demons.

One can only imagine the myriad illusions each was lured by:

"some for fortune, others for fame, knowledge, power and all that bebop..."

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Sunday, 16 December 2012

The Case Of The Missing Mermaid

                    The Case Of The Missing Mermaid
by Stormm
(c) December 16 2012

"This tale begins where most tales end..."

She says while we sit side by side on my heart shaped sofa.

In a nicely filled out casual loose silver pants with cute curves,

the long and smooth, tanned legs augmented by painted burgundy nails.

Her bare feet were dangling below my portable glass coffee table,

which is supporting two cups of lemon ginger tea, while we share a joint.

"My sister and I happily co-existed with most other life forms for centuries..."

"Until that fateful moonlit night we were captured in the south pole

by Nazi submarines, right after your so-called second world war."

"Subjected to cruel experiments and obscene rituals,

kept detained and tortured for possible magical secrets and ocean treasures.

Although severely weakened we managed to, among other things,

summon your etheric body through time and space,

teaching you our language."

"Do you recall teenage dreams about a beautiful mermaid?

Held in hundred square feet transparent tanks of sea water?

Being examined and analyzed by evil scientists?

How she communicated with you telepathically?"

"Remember she taught you to place each palm over corresponding eye,

fingers close together pointing up, when you wish to speak her language."

"No", I quickly replied, maintaining my most impenetrable poker face,

sculpted by years of ancient prana-bindu discipline.

But as she speaks I immediately access the corresponding memories.

If this is deja vu, then it's all coming back to me now.

Uncannily I'm still back there, vividly reliving each memorable scene.

Captivated by riveting sensations colorfully fleshed out,

to touch soul stirring exact replicas of occult past lives,

somehow she can tap and describe these things.

Is she also a Dream Catcher, can she possibly enter dreams?

"Tell me, do you also remember a Frankenstein monster being there,

how he too was madly in love with Erzulie?"

I must admit I had often dreamt these beings,

and always thought it held some deep significance.

In the original dream I was concerned for the fate of the gorgeous mermaid.

I'm walking right, through a classroom science lab after school with Levi,

when I accidentally stumble upon a much larger secret facility,

the room stores a rectangular tank which occupies half it's eastern corner.

I desire more than anything else, to assist in her escape.

To rest knowing she's safely away from sadistic and desensitized,

white coat, rabid lab rat mad doctors.

"Don't be a sucker, her tale's just brilliantly improvised."

"Another siren spell,

spontaneously designed to make mountain climbers dizzy at low altitudes."

My head is reeling,

did I finally go over the edge grasping for one too many rocky precipices,

gambled and lost, balancing on a thin tightrope stretched above an abyss?

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Tuesday, 11 December 2012

3rd Eye Psychic

                                3rd Eye Psychic
by Stormm
(c) December 11 2012


My friends call me Ace, something they seldom reveal ungrudgingly,

and this only after sufficient natural or chemical stimulation has been provided.

Then you're likely to get an earful, and not all of it will go down smooth.

Because as you'll soon realize, I'm the ace of spades among private dicks.

In case you've been wondering, ACE stands for ALL C-ING EYE.

For starters, officially I operate out of The Gates Of Light Building,

suite number 1313.

The swirling hologram flows, along dimly illuminated neon-violet walls,

a flying metallic gold orb patrols, winding narrow red carpet corridors...
A warning or welcome alert,

to anyone approaching my upscale 50th Avenue translucent glass office door.

It reads:

                                    Inspector Scorpio Death

                                    3rd Eye Psychic

                                    Agent 4 Hire

Aside from your average Enochian Sex Magic clientele,

my less obscure customer recommendations include:

Geomancy, Angelic and Demonic Spirit Lovers,

Necromancy and of course, Alchemy.

The phones usually begin to buzz around midnight,

by 3:15 am they're levitating, alongside floor to ceiling clear glass windows.

Very Much Alive, like all the other musical chairs playing furniture,

utensils and appliances undertaking brave majestic paths of activity,

within this spacious modern setting.

Tonight's first client The Magnetic Venus Tantra,

oozes seductive pleasure throughout an increasingly pressurized atmosphere.

From the moment she arrives with those huge brown but very sad,

make up stained, damsel in distress teary eyes, I knew I was in trouble.

She stood there in the doorway, as if from a distant dream.

Is She The One The Only One? obviously not the first but by far,

the most beautiful even if too skinny apparition to grace these locales.

It happens instantly, while we make eye contact comes that aching burden...

This one carries the weight of the whole world,

or rather ten thousand astral realms, on slim bare shoulders.

I'm still gesturing to offer the sofa on my left against the west wall,

when instead, she rushes into my arms and begins doing the one thing

I truly dread, sobbing uncontrollably.

Her twin sister Erzulie had been reported missing, gone three or four nights.

Venus says Erzulie seemed absolutely terrified of something,

during their last, their last consciously known conversation.

Moments later, Venus is crying again, even more hysterically now.

But this time I slap the silly cow hard, on a pretty right cheek, telepathically.

"Calm down, now take a deep breath, and conjure your story."

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Thursday, 6 December 2012

VI The Lovers

                             VI The Lovers
by Stormm

Eve is standing before The Apple Tree Of Good And Evil,

along which a green serpent coils, it's head among red fruit,

slender tongue protruding as it wisely regards her face.

Adam stands before Tree Of Life With The Flaming Leaves,

Adam Mesmerized By Eve.

She looks up to Raphael, Healer Of God / God Is My Healer.

The Purple Robed Arch Angel Of Air materializes from grey billowing clouds.
Powerful Crimson Wings Extended.

Orange and green hair, bright yellow face channeling the sun.

Glancing Down Upon Children Of The Voice Divine.

Hands raised, offer summer's blessing to The Oracles Of The Mighty Gods.

Inspiration, passive instinct, something from nothing, clever creative muse.
The Double Agent, 007.

Secret Weapon Active Gemini.

The dynamic duo, analytical, sly and dual-faced.

Burning Above Flying Angel, the scorching noon day sun hangs full.

Intense in the distance, centered between twin mediums,

a jagged, rust colored, formerly barren mountain peak climaxes...

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Tuesday, 4 December 2012

The Final Solution

                                   The Final Solution
by Stormm

The very last man left standing is totally insane.

Burning with hatred for all life, he gloats.

As an entire world violently explodes.

Space vultures sniff charred remains,

battle amongst themselves for scraps of former humanity.

Where once majestic cultures rose from vast regions teeming with life,

their only remnants now are heaps of scattered debris.

Nothing shall be the ultimate state of being, Void Theme From The Black Hole.

Envy Filled Gaseous Glee Seeks Thrills, amid fractured mists of total destruction.

Trapped Asteroid Junction Of Cosmic Death.

Violet acidic smoke rises from dark ashes,

melting bodies that momentarily appear solid, then silently crumble.

Life falls apart in aftershocks, to the slightest sonic shifts.

Synchronized movements resonate whole planets.

But post triumphant desolation, after the ultimate final solution,

unresolved, dull grey impotent obsession remains.

One broken by tragic certainty, discovers he will never know peace.

Unable to mute the noises of life, or eradicate the gridlocks of cosmic traffic.

In the throes of madness he bitterly grins obscene.

The over organized chaos king, futile pawn of desperate destruction,

reels at the semblance of perfect calm.

He scrambles from dead body to bits of former bodies,

stomping things, pissing on, screams at, mocks and jeers.

Challenging all: "Now look at you, who's laughing now?

I own everything, it's all mine by divine right.

'Tis my ultimate destiny to toy with you."

"I could rebuild it all in my image.

For I am your king."

"The supreme supreme, ruler of all."

A stiff elite zombie, forever f*cking bored...

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Friday, 30 November 2012

S & M

                                      S & M
by Stormm

There's a wealthy man in diapers, helplessly tied up in a dungeon.

Craving the attention, paying for humiliation, desperately begging to be shamed.

The plastic surgeon momentarily relinquishes corrupt and abusive power,

anonymous in shiny leather mask, tight gag muffling impotent sounds.

Oh sweet surrender.

Out of control, completely free from all his responsibilities,

back in the surrogate womb.

Only this time, mommy gives her full attention.
He's almost alive there in the dark, within brief flashes of red pain,

where almost ecstasy registers faintly, like sharp bright lightning in the distance.

Did he nearly feel something this time?

The body involuntarily cries out with deeper grunts and more violent moans,

but the thrill is gone, it's been long since gone...

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Saturday, 24 November 2012

Multi-limbed Beings

                            Multi-limbed Beings
by Stormm

In a distant galaxy where multi-limbed beings reign supreme,

I stop over to rest between routine Solar System explorations.

Deploy an hologram after receiving telepathic link-up from

August Salamander Chiefs.

Discussing their desire to ensure further secrecy of their

home planet's orbital location and sun's exact parallel ghost star.

I immediately agree while surveying the galaxy from a majestic moon,

conscious why it's even worth consideration.

Pyramidian customs are the result of millennia trial and error experiments,

geared towards abundant communities.

They have always achieved the best results by sustaining small,

self-sufficent, independent local republics,

with limited and accountable governments.
Banning the flawed concept of a central governing body,

before it's erosive system eventually collapses all industry and innovation.

Even worse, if left unchecked insane elites inevitably hatch plots to suicidally

trigger the extinction of all species.

Here the bare necessities of survival are free to all regardless of origin,

past, or circumstance.

Each citizen receives free energy packs to power their homes,

vehicles and appliances.

Obviously having many decentralized power centers and sources,

guarantee denizens will never seek enslavement or be manipulated

into surrendering their power, freedom of expression or personal beliefs.

There are no limits placed on individual imaginations,

endless conflicting and contradictory technological methods are encouraged,

diversity being the optimum means of breeding further innovations...

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Tuesday, 20 November 2012

V The Hierophant

                             V The Hierophant
by Stormm

TAURUS Between Twin Pillars.

Teaching Divine Wisdom Desires Manifestation.

Magus Of The Eternal Gods.

6 Knows The Reason Of Past Present & Future.

Sits Crowned On His Throne At The End Of The Path.

Guardian Of The Way Of Initiation, Magi In The Hall Of Mirrors.

The Confrontational Truth, Righteous Bull On Snowy Mountains.

The Sentinel Protects The Paths Of Knowledge And Wisdom.

The Sphinx utters the universal riddle, conceals the magic password.

"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here..."
A Deep Voice Echoes Booming.

Collapsing Walls Of Temple Rocks Crumble As Heads Rumble.

Bury the hypocrites in avalanches of forbidden knowledge.

Cast out all false merchants, expose second hand discounters.

The Dispeller Of Illusion Reveals Barren Casino Deserts.

Uproots, overturns and smashes gambling tables.

The Mad Hatter Introduces Himself To Weary Travelers.

At the end of distant winding trails.

High Priest Rents The Obsolete Veil...

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Monday, 19 November 2012

Crimson Serpent

                                 Crimson Serpent
by Stormm

I stand hiding, behind the white marble columns of an ancient structure.

Directly before me, winding out further along boiling hot sand,

my family's monstrous pet serpent crawls.

It's elongated red body veers to the right, steadily in pursuit of fresh food.

I sneak off to the left,

running around back to the farthest end of this mausoleum.

From my new somewhat safer vantage point,

I notice Jing-Wei and immediately yell at her to get away.

She's out alone in silver grey occasional flashes of mid-day golden sun,

adrift flat white plains of endless sand.
Jing-Wei continues walking slowly to her right,

oblivious while crimson coils are quickly gaining ground.

She enters the very edge of a gray forest where there are scattered

patches of yellow grass, low dull shrubs, dried up sticks.

The Serpent follows, entering the forest's edge.

It encounters something and momentarily pauses.

Abruptly it's body spasms.


Did it encounter a rabbit or some other small creature?

It must have swallowed her whole.

Startled, I wake up...

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Sunday, 11 November 2012

New World's First Day

                           New World's First Day
by Stormm

Since before voids of eternal night, I have been at it.

Painting final adjustments, precisely chiseling out this fresh planet.

Split decision fauna of world wide flora ocean improvements,

improvising atmospheric condition experiments.

Now, my fantastic work is complete, behold this total creation.

"When it's finally over, is when we've only just begun..."

Triumphant atop my favourite new cloud, white phoenix feather in hand,

I begin conducting.

As the bubbling first sun solidifies explosive, plasma sting-rays cross horizons.

I am the Head In The Clouds Basking In My Glory,

He Who Smiles Upon Majestic New Days.
The space swelling overtures of rhapsodic transcendental music,

introduces new life forms, projects hybrid life blossoms, stimulate becomings.

Brings it all to thrilling life in symphonic, juicy, passionate climaxes.

Gradually the new horizon dawns.

The first, abuzz with chaotic sound clash, fertile orchestration from on high.

I Afloat Sky Furniture Conducts,

waves a feather directing each new random activity.

Experience the increasing actions of rustling, stirring, self-transforming entities.

Sweeping Fanfares Announce Awesome Rising Sun's first full increase.

I evaporate soft liquid damp, while sizzling fumes melt shimmering dew.

The first soil, early birds, oceans, bugs, dolphins, insects, rain forests, crickets,

turtles, plankton, reptiles rise and shine, monkeys dance, deserts sing,

wild cats and elephants rejoice.

Across the planetary surface, more distant opposite sides are heating up.

Unseen forms emerge, energy engines pump, pump away.

The gradual strains of a million marching bands grew louder,

as first day approaches...

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Monday, 5 November 2012

Man's Best Friend

                               Man's Best Friend
by Stormm

Inside a quiet and still townhouse,

there's a large white dog to the left of book filled library shelves.

He's sitting on the main floor, at the bottom of dark brown stairs.

Home alone now, seemingly he awaits his master's return.

After waiting like this for so many years, almost grown accustomed.

Passing the hours in anticipation he projects his consciousness

across space and time, outside, moving between fields,

along favorite trees and running paths.

Momentarily dips in on the fragile man servant,

while it's toiling hard, providing the necessities of survival.
Travels on, even further afield,

all the way back home to it's own distant world,

very, very far away.

A temporary physical shell has been left behind.

The alien vessel of an immaterial soul, this friendly bundle of

breathing fur, lies panting.

Among clean white tiles, cool light brown wooden floors.

Arriving upon it's host planet, the extraterrestrial smiles.

Woof woof.

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Monday, 20 August 2012

Gas Mask

                             Gas Mask
by Stormm

Mano has a gas mask on.

Before him his grinder, lid on it's back off over to the left.

Full of green finely ground buds,

jammed between it's sharp silver-spiked circular reflective body,

lying atop flat light-brown wooden beams.

My Latino Bro picks up his bong from the table.

Legs slowly uncrossing he leans forward,

arching back away from walls of graffiti.

Attaches the bong to gas mask,

packing more weed fully into the bowl, then lights up.

He inhales this for a while, leans forward resting his head on the table.

Three minutes later he takes off the black mask and coughs,

but only during the third cycle of this ritual.

It's apparent Bro's deeply impacting memorable impressions

on most in the vicinity.

But some reactions, are more subtle than others.

Personally, I say let him do his thing until HE gets sick of it...

"He has to carry this whole kit around with him everywhere all day,"

cracks Gino, laughing at Latino who's indifferent ears are clearly not

shielded by the gas mask's straps.
Italian Guy says, "he's not getting any oxygen with that," "a buddy a

mine took a hit off a regular bong and just fell over, collapsing on his

face, and that's without the gas mask."

After Michael repeats the unconscious friend bong story,

for the second time minutes later, I start asking questions until he let's slip:

"The weed was f*cked up; it was kind of iffy, etc..."

Mano holds it down,

keeping all that smoke in while resting average,

neck length brunette hair and forehead against palm,

as his athletic right elbow supports our table.

Bro looks around smiling,

sees me rolling my skinny first joint of the day at 7:30 pm on a friday evening.

"Let's pitch in on a bigger spliff," he suggests?

"I have some Purple Kush."

Unfortunately I was pondering what next to write about,

mentally recapping my latest creative accomplishments,

plotting the next moves.

Having to honestly reply,

"no, I'm gonna chill and smoke this alone,

just meditate on situation and things..."

Michael's appalled.

I'm willing to bet he'll be talking about the boy with a gas mask bong,

for quite some time...

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Sunday, 12 August 2012


by Stormm

The brunette was busy, casually packing a suitcase in her Monaco suite.

Outside her window, right below lay the harbor,

a multitude of vessels occupy thick blankets of rich deep blue sea.

Some were merely docking,

but the majority are actively sailing out or about to set sail.

Scattered identical pieces of white dots sway,

bobbing toy ships fill bustling ports and seaways.

Hotels multiply along the edges of long,

winding mountain twists and curves.

Dutifully committed to the next assignment,

she was preparing to check out immediately.

The unassuming spy disguised as an airline hostess,

about to begin her final maiden voyage.

Here she stood, not quite but almost fully dressed in heels and skirt,

when there sounds an unexpected knock at the door.

Surprised, she momentarily freezes in place, quietly listening,

until sure there's no apparent danger outside.

Suddenly, a pregnant pause because then, rap rap rap.

This followed by an even longer period of silence,

until an eternal sixty seconds later, tap tap tap again.

Why was she growing so afraid to look?

There could be a simple explanation, yet every instinct urges her not to answer.

Tip toeing to the door's tiny peephole, growing nervously more alert,

as the knocking continues getting louder.

So why aren't there more noticeable signs of life in the hallway?

"Who is it?" she eventually sputteres.

"Room service," replies a bodiless entity.

"Go away, I'm not interested."

"Are you dressed?" inquires the raspy unknown voice."

"None of your business, go away.

"It's a welcome gift courtesy of the management."

"No thanks, wait, ah... just a minute."

She'd seen that freckled mulatto face before, but couldn't place where, why,

or should this knowledge be of immediate relevance?

Unless, oh no, dear god, of course.  But by now it would be much too late.

Her last thought was to return a similar response,

to the blinding flash of a serene smile.

A maid stands pulsing in the immaculate corridor,

like an enraptured angel of death.

By the second his slow motion falling white apron

impacts a white freshly carpeted hotel floor,

the first of several bombs grafted onto conditioned brain and wiry frame,

had already screamed detonate...

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Monday, 6 August 2012

Rosy's Short Story

                               Rosy's Short Story
by Stormm

Sticky 9 am call time and you could already feel it,

this was so going to be another very hot and sweaty,

much too grimy July 18 2012 hectic wednesday morning.

Complete with the usual suspects:

loud teeth grinding spine tingling construction noises;

both directions of narrow orange pylon lined single lane impatient streets,

accompanied by winding sidewalk ramp detours;

do not enter dead end road closed signs;

dust filled blocked off asphalt avenues savagely dug up;

busy vibrant lanes articulate blasts of menacing heavy metal machinery.

All playing their epic roles as bits of shiny gridlock,

blistering in the heart of a bubbling downtown Toronto.

We were shooting backwards,

so I chose to meet by the Sky Walk entrance on Front Street,

next to a Blue Piano.

I arrived 8:30 am took off my black pinstriped suit jacket,

sat and began performing the song's classically themed chorus

which I originally wrote for plucked strings, on this free temporary piano.

A small crowd gathered as I played while thinking how I had pictured

an epic shot of myself on a white grand piano, but this wasn't that piano.

Maybe we should at least film me playing the chorus, just in case ahh...?

During some improvising of original compositions,

I decided unfortunately it was maybe not.

So I stopped playing for my applauding audience wanting to hear more.

Maria, Jose and Pablo showed up just after nine,

we walked into Jay while picking out the first spot to shoot.

When we got back outside there was no Jay,

panicking I called his cell to learn he had made a wrong turn,

gone underground and crossed the street.

The boys were on time, were the girls gonna show?

Kanza made it first, Vanessa came last.

Make-up went well quickly so shooting commenced.

Those extra two hours I had factored into the schedule

brought us right back on time, but I had to crack that whip,

everything else must go down perfectly smooth.

I guess it did.

Note to self, if you're going to do a complex coordinated movement

on camera in a public space without a permit, try to rehearse it first.

After only a couple attempts and some rapid fire decisions, we got it right.

Vanessa smiled and asked, "do you do this often?" as the swap worked,

while walking off into the sunset, swinging hands together...

  Cast:  Stormm, Kanza Feris, Jay Park, Vanessa Tavares.

Crew:  Jose Rodriguez, Maria Gabby, Pablo Andrade-Carranza

Special Thanks: Le Ti Colibri & Tribal Eye African Gifts (Kensington Market)

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Wednesday, 25 July 2012

Day I Started Floating

                        Day I Started Floating
by Stormm

One Day I Just Started Floating, rising up and up and up,

until air and ether began replacing my semi-solid ground.

Purple, cream, orange futon clouds lie awake beneath my feet,

as I sail asea drifting platform skies.

With each stride I'll rise on pillows of successive supportive clouds,

skip along, spinning around and tap-dancing airborne stairs.

Propelled miles beyond the planetary surface,

effortlessly exerting even more hot-vibe life-force energy,

to space travel via strenuous but tremendously rewarding efforts.

At first it was merely one leg or the other,

going temporarily higher with each step,

spontaneous strides then rolling over somersaults, in leaps and bounds,

bounce up and down to test out the limits of my wind slide cushions.

Running up to an invisible spot where I can achieve gradual lift off,

climbing upon air waves before slipping off to plummet earth bound.

Get back up build enough steam sprinting until elevation occurs,

even if it's only slightly, briefly.

Over and over and over again, until eventually, I creatively figured it out.

As if you're finally able to affect enough force,

reaching a point where it's purely your decision to return to the ground or not.

Like scaling invisible steep uphill energy paths, in an electric blue room.
Initially shocking experiences during the firsts of any unpredictable sudden

updrafts, would toss me into a vortex through time and space.

So stay focused now, steady.

Breathe with ease and enjoy the incredible sensation of surfing these transparent paths,

feel the shifting golden support tidal waves beneath my heels.

Foams of weightless suds disperse, my spotty footprints fade in the sky.

I'm trekking feathery pillows of pink, green and shale clouds,

swooping alternate side dives, then woosh!

Immediately plop back upright.

Leaping miles above, from one vast continent to another,

dancing out glide-slide experimental wind drafts.

Hands extended wide a tightrope walker cautiously proceeds,

balancing gravity defiant until it hits me like atmospheric pressure.

"We airborne now", gravity's no longer an issue even worth considering...

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Sunday, 15 July 2012

Cloud Cowboy

                               Cloud Cowboy
by Stormm

Lounging on clouds afloat the sea of breeze,

orchestrating life forms so serene each eye sheds a joyful tear.

Composer with golden feather in hand, incites fresh thriving abundance.

I'll whistle fantastic tunes, admiring how my organisms follow suit.

Ohhh the leisure life,

observing and marveling as each newly formed world turns,

rotating it's first few of countless many cycles.

I create and direct boundless wind currents and tides,

commanding the trees and plants to grow.

Peering upon their quickly forming climates.

Whistle a tune until the birds follow suit,

eternally surprised by how they'll continue to improvise vibrant,

colorful melodic variations, riff off my initial phrases.

Within these clouds sometimes it gets foggy and may take a brief

moment's adjustment for strangers, but not I.

One projectile breath blast upon these cloud bubbles,

is sufficient to easily and playfully pry them aside.

Serene thoughts flow unaware of traveling enormous orange, 

violet, neon grape skies, peering upon quick forming climates.

Is that a Golden Star-Ship coming my way? Woosh. How rude!

Didn't even stop for a drink or chat, no stray signal honk? Hello!

A diamond shaped silver craft zips by as I leap off my cloud,

flying in hot invisible pursuit.

Why be in such a hurry? let's go see.

Perhaps another futile scientific experiment by those tragic

yet so often amusing, shallow Shadow Lords Of Time?

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Saturday, 14 July 2012

Watcher Of The Skies

                                   Watcher Of The Skies
by Stormm

The Watcher Of The Skies glares down upon the sizzling naked city.

Mute, dispassionate, wearing a cold blank expression.


Unable to detect or record The Artists Of Veiled Thoughts,

nor Adepts Of No-Mind.

Like a blind vampire bat on silent, empty afternoons.

Sadly Insane, while habitually deploying it's precise sweeping vision.

The perfectly logical recording cyborg spy, a patented scientific breakthrough.

Automaton. Assassin. Abomination.

Failed result of twisted science,

formerly mankind's most promising niche of genetic research,

predictably gone sour.

It alone observes me, but knows not exactly why I'm watching.

Suddenly it momentarily disappears, to reappear right beside me,

much too close for comfort...

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Thursday, 12 July 2012

IV The Emperor

                           IV The Emperor
by Stormm

The Ram Enthroned On The Mountain Top.

Upon mountaintops miles ahead,

the well-established Emperor surveys his entire domain.

The Good Father, provides for his family behind a stern appearance.

Offensive Mountain Ram Miles Ahead.

He clenches the gift of life in right fist, astride his grey rams' head throne,

wrapped in red robes.

Silver arms and legs reveal a shield of full plate armor.

Red Blood Of Life.

The Crowned Conqueror Ho Nike, The Stormm King,

he the ruddy faced "Son Of The Morning, Chief Among The Mighty."

The Warrior Seer beholds five windows simultaneously.

Powerfully exerts his influence in the form of active creative energies

directed upon five elements, throughout 25 dimensions,

five by five tattva conduits transmit electric alternating currents, lo, concurrently.

The gold crown on his head upholds at it's summit the symbol of Aries.

In his right hand the Golden Ankh of Life scepter,

his left displays Golden Sun Of The Burning Orb.

The Ram On Fire Mountain Butting Heads, challenges the status quo,

rushes out to encounter opportunities and confront obstacles head on.

Charges in full stride, passionate, unrestrained, aggressive.

He's the active male principle, The Healthy Ego, Hero The Action Man.

Orange mountains on my left, yellow mountains on my right,

steep slippery trails from whence weak hearts plummet into the abyss beneath,

falling away behind my throne, rooted solid with deep foundations.

The Mighty Solar Warrior directs from on high,

comfortable atop world globes.

The Lone Eagle On Barren Mountains,

confidently observes all from my dizzying heights of power and leadership.

The Protector maintains his position of strength,

fertile dynamic controller of rich and abundant lands.

My long beard represents experience, displaying life's hard-earned lessons,

offers guidance and wisdom to others.

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Tuesday, 10 July 2012

Ringside Tarot

                             Ringside Tarot
by Stormm

Ringside at a boxing match in a huge arena or stadium,

near front row, middle section VIP.

Between rounds or just before the fight.

There's a beautiful semi-clad woman in red high heels and miniskirt,

strutting around the ring.

She carries a giant Tarot card held high above her head by both hands.

It's Key IV The Emperor.

"War, Conquest, Victory, Strife, Ambition."

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Wednesday, 27 June 2012

The Prolific Future

                             The Prolific Future
by Stormm

The Prolific Future Life is brisk and invigorating. Mining asteroid

belts, mostly for but not limited to only space craft materials is

booming. Our Space Exploration Programs fuels unprecedented

expansion for the endless varieties of free independent colonies.

Food, clothes and shelter are deemed basic essentials, mandatory

provisions easily affordable by everyone.

Art has replaced boredom, various cheap and abundant alternative

energy sources sustain the numerous powerful, thriving and

completely self-sufficient regions.

There are no taxes or wars, each republic permits zero to a bare

minimum of laws. Gladly opt for as smallest as possible legal

systems, observing only the rarest of minor criminal activity.
Music and Art are the official interplanetary languages, we

humans create and converse in unique new means of expression

daily, fresh new symbols being constantly created.

Peaceful trade has already been well established with most of

the known extraterrestrial and multi-dimensional entities.

There are no illnesses the average person cannot self-heal.

Each individual when personally ready,

if so desired, consciously brings about their own death and rebirth.

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Tuesday, 26 June 2012

Painting Comes To Life

                                Painting Comes To Life
by Stormm

"Psst psst, over here, come closer" it said.

"Hey, listen up I'll let you in on a secret." "I'm God, your creator.

It's me the one and only, your own personal savior, you know, the supreme being.

So worship me, okay, get down on your knees right now and start praying to me.

Yes of course! right here in front of everyone,

it's the only way to be safe from what's coming down the pipe.

Because the more that you bear witness of me, the more greater will be your glory.

Louder! prostrate and proclaim your insignificance, beg for forgiveness.

Tell me you're not worthy, declare it to all,

let the whole world know how you're unworthy but for my divine grace.

That's it.

Let me see you cry and shed even more crocodile tears this time for Christ's sake.

Without me you're an ignorant f*cking flea, yes say it, you cock sucking bastard.

You better never stop praying to me, if you know what's good.

Where do you think you're going you goddamn son of a bitch,

come back and f*cking fear me. Fear me, fear me, fear..."
I ran out of there in mortal terror, sprinting the museum corridors panting hard.

Only to gradually, tragically,

realize that all the paintings from room to room although in different sections,

were each repeating almost the exact same spiel,

to any fool who should happen by.

So many millions were discovering how easily they could climb right inside paintings,

shrinking themselves down to take up permanent residency.

I could swear that I heard my own voice, it sounded kinda relieved.

Just another poor soul lost in the details of some unknown artist's depiction of paradise.

A weak, self-righteous, whining professional victim gasps in awe.

"Guess I'll make this the stop."

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Monday, 25 June 2012

The Man In Blue

                            The Man In Blue
by Stormm

I'm at a rave, in a massive pale grey concrete warehouse space.

There's probably about a hundred people milling about.

Most are sitting around, upon and along,

the rectangular curves of cream and brown boulders,

surrounding a huge rock garden forest in the center of the room.

It's quiet, we're all hanging in this smoking and chill out lounge area.

Standing up at the farthest left end corner,

I had been casually sitting on the edge, my feet dangling over.

Suddenly I'm walking straight over now to the huge south face wall,

right against the brick at my feet is a burgundy mid-size paint brush.

Automatically I pick it up and just start painting a massive oil mural.

I roll instant drying wet paint, almost from the bottom of the floor,

nearly all the way up to the distant ceiling overhead, with each stroke.

After which I take another step right, repeat over and continue,

until occupying the western half of the entire wall.

The painting unfolds completely detailed already,

like I'm laying up long rows of prefabricated, dry finished wallpaper using a roller,

adding several extended broom's length coatings per stoke.

He's a sober, somber looking,

seriously focused medium built white man, with long grey beard.

Mr Blue Sky is wearing The Navy Blue Suit,

Sits In The White Chair against a vast blue empty backdrop.

Both hands resting on armrests, fingers clasped around bamboo weaving.

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Sunday, 24 June 2012

The Dancer

                              The Dancer
by Stormm

The Dancer tosses her confident head,

projecting long black hair from side to side.

And water goes flying everywhere, rapidly in as many directions.

Ceilings are raining down torrential rows of fire sprinklers, on full cold blast.

Random floor to ceiling beyond melting point jet propulsion rocket flames,

erupt in different corners of an all black and white tiled room.


And neon colored laser beams of streaming liquid plasmas charge.


Pure Primal Energy Unbound, in truly carefree passionate movements.

Free, savage and generous,

expressing endless emotions of unrestrainable wild abandon.

A self-contained intentionally mad frenzy of lunges,

leaping rolls, handstands, flips and crouching.

Bare hands and feet spontaneously rip huge slabs of wood and concrete,

right out from the floors and walls directly,

throw them around effortlessly, fling things, smash, crash, thrashing about.

Droplets of salty perspiration glisten, stinging sweet,

head to toe covered in sweat foams.

Sprinkles Poetry In Motion Stars Sparkling.

Move with glossy, scintillating, arabesque dance forms.
She has long black hair, smooth olive skin, high unique cheekbones,

full on gypsy features with big, sexy, humourous eyes.

Wielding her streamlined curvy hips and waist, winds that natural figure,

exerts slender, strong and powerful athletic legs, well toned abs and arms.

We spin as our sweat goes flying off deep into outer space,

curly soaked hair flails, liquid electric yellow and blue sparks flash wildly.

Tiny scattered pearl droplets glitter, dancing thru the night.

Inside complete pandemonium as heaven and hell breaks loose,

pure hearts on fire deploy a live energy exchange.

Manifested magnetic heart chakra power key unlocks in embrace,

across space, frequencies ignite, projections of overflowing energy.

Grabbing mad touching each other,

running hot hands, up and down all over foreign bodies,

oily, firm, soft curves, clefts and swirls.

Let's Get Crazy Naked Love,

fingers go in while kissing, biting, licking, sucking.

She opens her floor to ceiling sliding door, it's getting hot inside...

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