Oak McIlwain

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Heiled be, the corn of scorn
Written by Buntz Doom, January 29th, 2009   

Deepened.
Abyss of entrance.
With reverence, gaze unto the corn of ages.
With reverence, reduce yourself to a fine powder.
With social awareness, kill someone who is well-liked in the community.

I entered the abyss.
Faced with the corn of scorn.
I left.
Again, I entered.
I left…

I cannot wait to die.
I entered.
I left.
I often buy groceries late in the evening.
It’s a better way to shop, muchacho.

Oh, deepness is a virtue.

————————–
Author: Andrew Buntine


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An older ambient track
Written by Oak McIlwain, January 21st, 2009   

Open the gate.


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Lateral Perfection in Poetry
Written by Oak McIlwain, January 5th, 2009   

Thanks to the lion for being so nice
if only she came from the land of the spice

Exception rules when rules will hide
Of you and me whose laughs are tied
To break the mold of eyes confined
A timeless path; True endless mind

I looked into my own third eye
Then slowly I began to cry
It seemed the only way to solve this game
was to destroy or to create

am I a muse, a distraction an escape?
Is that why you needed me?
now you will see that what you thought you held
was just one more illusory world

Anyone who does not see
Hurts by the very nature of non-seeing
Raised only to function for society
Is it any wonder we are all empty?

When we inflict pain due to obstructed nature
Without knowledge of our action
Is simply changing a few causes of pain enough to liberate humanity?

And when the bell tolles
It all falls down
A marvellous miracle
of miraculous clowns


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Heiled be, the sin of Sod
Written by Buntz Doom, January 5th, 2009   

Heiled be, the sin of Sod. The Dark Abyss is throbbing…

Keep your daughters locked up.
In the basement.
For I am one one.
The nether-one
The foaming one.

The graveyard yearns for me.
Calls for the deepening are lusting for hills of yonder.
Orgies of putrid black gore, he responds.
Just me, I remark.
Oozing vile shit.
For the ones I cannot help but cult.

Join me.
Molester the fester.
In war, only the ancient felch is real.
Powdered ethnic for my pipe.
Sodomize the men first!

*****************

This is just a small human-rights peice I am working on…

————————–
Author: Buntz Doom


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