I thought this site was dead. I began to use it for different ends. But alas, surprise - it was never dead, only hidden to my eyes, you all kept going, love you guys!

​Let me know if the formatting's wrong, and I'll update the look of your sacred song.

​Emanuel

A mystic tree did block the path on which I trudged along, not felled but newly rooted with its leaves full green, alive with song. At once it looked familiar but again a foreign silhouette; I knew the names of branches but the leaves themselves, we’d never met. To the tree I introduced myself as one who needs must navigate the dissolution harmonies that frightened men disseminate. The tree then laughed and stepped aside and bent its boughs in salutation. And thence the mystic seed was planted: the fruitlessness of navigation.

​Samuel Tillman

The sun rises Anticipation, then- the anxiety of becoming flawless. Which way is right? I still don't know. As I feel the clock glaring at me behind my back, I wonder if my soul will ever show. Blank page, cluttered mind. Sharpened pencil, dull emotions. I start to sweat Another day can't go past unanswered. I must Write. Create. Find something divine. But all I seem to be able to do is waste time. I sigh, take a break. Grab another cup of coffee And take a walk down the empty street. Only bitter coldness greets me here. Biting all the way down to my core. I find myself at the end of the street. About to turn back, as weary as before When a sight catches my eyes A flower Among the dead and decaying leaves, It still manages to rise. In the last light of twilight, I see its bright blue glow. Thank you. For a crucial reminder: Even in the middle of winter, A flower can survive and grow. 

​Echo West

​background arpeggios counterpoint bass w/ melody sidechained 4-on-floor supersaws galore reverb + delay made fast to slow in post

​Samuel Tillman

​take your feet into account they'll carry you a long way these lives i've lived and wonders found wouldn't have had i stayed past my ears have many sounds passed only selected few entered now nearly deaf i am at last i've earned my right to be self centered my eyes are well and my gut feels good i can still stand still my mind is stuck to a single mood but my will is still my will

​Mathias Verrier

​Expressly, with love: smile, my friend! He so quick to love the chase: may the eternal lunar trance encompass you, and shall you transcend the shadows. Shine thine light forthwith, and with God and your pen sow the seeds of mercy and love, through song.

​Samuel Tillman

Fuckin pretentious bullshit Poetry should be raw Verdant hills, my ass Eat a knife.

O' wooded ridge there yonder,
with studded faces sloping;
vast wonderment to ponder,
again, to scale them; hoping,
but not then want to wander.
Instead I focus, coping
emotions not yet roping
me into foolish ventures.

​Samuel Tillman

This Shoot Poetry thing 
Is a thing I enjoy -
For to arrange strange jive
Just affirming you all are alive-
A perennial bulb or a favorite toy
It gets buried from time to time
And comes back up sometime near to Spring.

It’s a wonderful thing. 

​Samuel Tillman