Chambers of the Pyramids

PROLOGUE:

Its night,
No sun here, for it rarely shines,
Through the curtains of black fog
And the shadows of hills in this new land.
For this is a new race who knows
Of the cataclysm that destroyed before.

Old masters in a cabin built
Of hard, cold, toil and graft,
Freeing the remains of yesterday's demented laugh.
Then to tell their naive, happy children
Of the distant past they all wish to know.

The fire is stoked for their intimate warmth
Between an aged father and child
With a drink of herbal tea,
Boiled in the golden cabin of bare necessity.
With a grill to cook and a bench to sit,
While there beds are so hard, that they cannot sleep.

They talk, for this is the only entertainment.
So close as his child sits calmly on the floor,
Listening intently for what his father has to clearly say.
With a great long, white beard,
A sheepskin rug for clothes,
And stained on dirt that lasts for months.

He whispers slowly, to recollect everything that must be said.

IN THE BEGINNING ' AMNESIUM PREHISTORY:

Once a long time ago, there were Gods
Who ruled the ancient lands of Egypt,
With their knowledge of the stars,
The elements of ideology, of Geography, of Chemistry, of language
And the great sight of observation and Mathematics.

With this knowledge,
They ruled with supreme power of youth,
Of supernatural capabilities
And the ability to be immortalised within the stars of heaven.
This epoch of history is known as 'First Time'.

These Gods left a legacy of wealth and knowledge,
For they knew of the end of the planet Earth.
Great pyramids were constructed as high as mountains,
To reach the heavens where clues silently lie,
For many epochs, from age to age,
From time to time, from them to us.

And towards the border of time lies the end of Pisces,
The great zodiac sign in the sky,
That rises on the solstice morning,
For the rich men had later discovered what the pyramids mean.

They revealed the travel of the stars,
The complexities of precession,
The size of the Earth,
The direction of North and the danger that lay ahead '
The movement of the land and sky.

AT THE CENTRE ' THE TIME OF PISCES:

New age,
Development by re-development,
Again and again they did live to prosper
From the darkness of yesterdays past
To the future they could not know
And the knowledge they all wished to behold.

They grew and they grew towards the modern age,
Where they lived as men,
They lived to survive and kill their prey,
To feed their children and loving wife.

Farming the land for food,
A cultivating way of life!
To feed more than just family,
To feed their growing, inflating world.
As demand increases production
And production increases consumption.

Then to factories in a colder land,
A revolution where them and those came and went.
With one selling goods,
The other selling their labour,
In order to buy the food to survive
And the material gifts they all wish to find.

And as darkness recedes into light,
A wealthy world and living high,
As knowledge grew to discover old
And reach the world of those pyramids bold.

TOWARDS THE END ' LAST TIME:

Now!

How is it,
When it's full of shit?

Grown up enough,
Children think its fun
Until they throw up!

Commercialism.
Modern day Satanism,
Earning for preservation,
Of a life waiting for persecution.

Kids trying to be trendy,
Everything lives
To be very friendly
And only to take
From those who are very wealthy.
And a drink,
To be drunk of course,
A legal form of escape,
Unable to solely think
Into a world of under ground faces,
Where the ideal is to undermine disputed friendships.

And of course, don't forget those damned drugs,
Bought off those armoured thugs,
To fuck up fucked up minds.
No one cares to find
Where those difficult answers lie,
As long as everyone gets they're hit,
And escape from tormented reality.

Then all was old,
Working for money and doing as your told.
To find a life
And a beautiful loving wife,
To have lots of children,
To reproduce in a broken world,
Where individuals hide
Behind there decaying walls.

Broken families
Moral panic
As the husband works
For a fucked up perk
Where everyone is exploited,
For riches, growth and profit '
Everything is false,
As the mist that covers the land
Turns our environment into expanding sand.
And then we all turn to perversion
Masturbation without reason
Copulate for pleasure
Where lazy women bare their all,
Prostitutes of the silver screen,
Screaming in the ecstasy of pain,
As to please a woman or man
Or waiting for a sexually laden sedan.
As eyes pop out with heavy bags,
Feeling empty and ruthlessly sad.

But never forget that everything is money,
A must to survive to pay for food and drink,
To pay to live
And watch TV.
The mass media,
Communication hysteria
Subjective to the end
Waiting for man to descend
Into the abyss of awaiting fashions,
Awaiting celebrations,
Awaiting heroes, to create the hope to carry on through.

And if that's not enough,
If we all get bored,
Lets start a war!
Doesn't matter what its for.
To kill old allies,
To save old enemies
Just for the fun of killing,
Killing each other is all that is left,
Without a thought
For what may happen to the children '
FUCK THE KIDS!
WE HAVE THE BOMB!!!

THE FINAL DIATRIBE ' PENDULUM:

Life.
At an end with nothing left
But fucked up minds.
No one is kind so die a life,
Without a wife '
Who bloody cares?
That bank balance is bare.

What have we done?
We are fools.
Nothing left,
We are corrupt,
Destroy and disrupt
The equilibrium of our once fair land,
Breaking up into that worthless sand'¦

My God! We are dead.
Waiting for the end.
Waiting for the fire
And the flood that will extinguish
Until all, is, out.

BACK TO THE BEGINNING ' THE STRIKE:

Cataclysm of fire;
As the land flows free,
The Earth shakes still,
Away from the poles
To the sky that deepens towards the sea,
Everything dies away into the freezing melt,
Of 'Judgement Day'.

EPILOGUE:

The aged man sits exhausted on his lonely bench,
His child now asleep,
With the discomfort of a knowledge passed
Onto a once naive child,
Who shall never look into his father's eyes,
With that same look, ever again.

And as the old man lies back to rest,
He ponders to reflect
That if the rich men could have behaved
And believe in those who could save,
No sign of any evil vice,
Then could they have survived,
The onslaught of the mighty hand?

They warned us so'¦


END


Copywrite Craig Wilson 2007.

First written in January 1997 and appears in the FIRST collection

Craig Wilson asserts the right to be identified as the author of this work. No reproduction or resale of this work without prior written permission of the author.

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