『| L E G E N D S: ICONS. |』のカバーアート

| L E G E N D S: ICONS. |

| L E G E N D S: ICONS. |

著者： Three Initiates
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{Enter The Multiverse}

Copyright 2025 by Three Initiates
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  • APOCALYPSE: NOW!

    APOCALYPSE: NOW!
    2025/07/16
    “Look what they eye unearthed,” leaning into the tip of my ear with the warmth and closeness of the coming waves, high tide approaching in the waning moon. “More secrets.” I replied. It was a question but also a statement— there was never such as this the luminescent trace of the glowing lava that was his force and might that I could not see for miles before he would even wander— first in twinkling stars and then later the wind itself and the birds, and then beneath the waves, like the quaking shake of a mighty oak anchored elsewhere and tied to the sea. “So you know.” I was hoping he would kill me before the next time I had to ever really know anything. He was the subject, and the predicate The wrong done, and the justice She was the pride and the prejudice But Judas brings the law Did you look in the box? No, I– [The Box Is The Box] –No, I haven't. Nearly three nights ago, a mysterious box arrived on the doorstep of an equally mysterious writer, who spends their time in isolation due to the often unannounced arrival of various ghosts, spirits, time travelers, and other figures by instant teleportation and other magical forms of transportation into their shabby New York apartment. Some of ya'll got so many air wick plug ins and scentci wax melts you don't know you smell like booboo. It's an illusion. You leave your house, You smell like booboo. I promise. Oh, God, I think I need a drink. Are you alright? Let me just–sit down for a second. Of course. My God. What's wrong. Look, i'm not supposed to say anything about this but. What's wrong? It's nothing, I'm just–I'm in a song. …what? A song! Is that all?! You don't understand. It's not a normal kind of song. It's– [takes a puff of inhaler] You wouldn't understand. Well what's so wrong about being in a song? Its not – a regular song–and it's not [gasping] finished! I still kind of wanted to be a comedian–but I knew I wasn't funny in the way that made sense to keep going and stand up there. I was still writing comedy, but I didn't know how to take myself out of it–the truth was, I was in a lot of pain. A lot of emotional pain that was becoming physical–and I didn't know what to do about it to break the barrier of nervousness and blank slate state of feeling the audience's perceptions of me more overwhelmingly than ever feeling myself. look at this song. I know huh. It's purple. Every time. It is purple. And what is that. Like a muted trombone? IS THAT A TROMBONE? Or a tuba? No, it has to be a trombone…becasue you can hear it slide– And that's what that sound is. What a sneaky rabbit. Super sneaky rabbit. So if i can see all this, I'm almost certainly sure the motorcycles outside and the slamming doors are meant to murder me. I'm sure that's what it is. You ever notice how being broke in New York makes you a bad person? Like, if you're broke, you're just automatically shitty. I never meant to be in New York broke. I never meant to be in New York, But I certainly never meant to be here and be poor, Poor in New York? Automatically a shitty person. Despite how you act. You can be a rich piece of shit— But the status is automatically “You got dough? Oh, alright. Carry on” That's the attitude in New York City. Crap people get by cause they got their hands on some money and the rules in New York say it doesn't really matter how you come by it, As long as you come by it. There's no real rules or real laws to it— Just “Get the money” Well god damn. This makes me nervous. I'm an artist. I've tried everything. I didn't mean to be the automatic enemy here. Of course not. But New York is a terrifying place to me, now, Cause I realized I can be a very sweet, very humble, very honest person— And that kind of shit doesn't matter here, really. It brings you no respect to be decent. It's about the money. So I'm a musician— which in New York also makes me like, Automatically not special, And I'm trying to just be a musician, and so naturally, I'm broke. Like broke in half. Like all my bills are late. But music is my solace. So I'm listening to music, And I'm listening to a song that is so beautiful, that I start to cry. The first time I heard it, it made me cry And I'm listening to it over, and it made me cry And it's so beautiful, and God is so beautiful And look at what God did, So I'm crying, And I don't even know what it is about the beauty of it that's making me cry, But it's making me cry, And New York hears me crying And New York goes “I'll give you something to cry about” And I open my email And there's a bill from my landlord reminding me how often I'm talked about due to my late payments— And I'm realizing I've been here two years and I still don't have any money, Even though I've been trying and trying And trying So now I'm crying for other reasons. Thanks a lot, New York. “I'll ...
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    1 時間 24 分
  • {Enter The Multiverse} S11002

    {Enter The Multiverse} S11002
    2025/07/16
    Every time I take him in I must remember the best thing That have ever happened to him As he said And whether or not the band Wraps around the bent and broken digit I just simply remember that, I'm just infatuated as a friend I mark it like a mantra Just as adequately as the director Calls to action All the actors at the set; With no resentments We're all just doing our jobs All just doing our jobs We're all just doing our… Lessons. Come back. Not quite. It's not (Uh) There (Where you want it) Hold on. (Yeah) Sit tight (Where) I don't want to spoil any of it Boil all the letters Burning all the bridges Sitting at the forest (Where) There's the alter (Where) Really you didn't recognize The moment when it happened But it's been pinpointed (Where) —but where is it? Cut to commercial But don't let it hurt you All of a sudden. My eyes aren't his, This isn't witchcraft It's just a glitch Did you miss an interview? Or is it that you're just disinterested Or disintegrated Integration, integers and interference Running backs and runners, Gymnasts, models, other lovers Alcoholics Now it's not so daunting, comic I'm also sort of off and autistic Obsessive with narrow vision But glimpses of the ever bending present Is indeed a gift To know I left the letter Letting it get soaking wet Before they ever even read it Know the news, Wave the wand, Wind the whales, Dig the hole Burn the bridge, Burn the ace Throw the cards, Get the day over with and won't you know There's Something wrong I think it's simple to tell The wind will whistle when It's good to win again There are Ten men to a collar Ten phones to a number One call to a voicemail And all of them know her Now, take it all back before the bathwater stagnates Would you make it in this day and age? No, I'm glad that you hate me. 4,000 years later and all of a sudden The pact is clear and concise As if As it As if Turn it on its head a bit And light another candle Get the glitch out of your Obsession with the asshole And wrap you head around it Found a sweater Pick it up and pray that it just Isn't bewitched, But sickness is sickness Whatever it is This is comfort food A comfort blanket If I hate myself enough Then all it does Is put the elf back on the shelf The trophy back inside the case My eyes go back inside my head And everything I ever thought Just stopped And disappears into the heavens Wherever it goes Before the gore Around and and around and around and around 4,000 years, and now we're here: The mirrors Man and Mr. And it might be another million years Until I see to hear But this and that, The dance of dances Comes again And ebbs and flows It's not as random As it is sporadic And it's not that deep But it's also keeping secrets That precede this realm Or Space and time Or name or face And body, souls and mind. It could be another million years, But it comes around, It comes around It could be getting wider, But it's steady going down and out It comes around when it comes around 27, were it ended Now it's umpteen years into the after life And we're shadows now Just projections of such, But it wasn't once More than just a thought, Becomes a story All the world was just the thought And then a song, The dance that came along Is simply steady moving Is simple steady moving. All of the world, Was just a thought. Watch with one eye open only First the right And then the left Covered over with one closed palm So you know how old you go One foot forward And no coals to walk over Rolling rolling, Your role is One off, Now too off Now too late But what you process Is your whole world over The goal for the gold? Oh, no, Warm Sundays Try to warn her While her heart is open To fucking close it Keep your friends close And your Fallons closer. There's no trust in the golden auras There's no honor in golden globes If you don't work for them Know doors open and close And open and close And you don't blow smoke, But you just keep moving forward [The Festival Project ™ ] Just the idea if him will kill you Whether with guilt or otherwise, And now you know And now you know You're on no sugar till the goal You got your cake and ate it, too Oh, the way he cries in the confines of my mind The blood would curdle The tears that seared my soul disk through the wall with every color If his was a shoulder to cry on, If God was a cover for longing Yo. Where the fuck did Patrick come from? He just showed up. I don't think he owns me so much As I want to know I don't think I'm lonely As much as it's I'm alone What are you looking at Well, I don't know yet What are you asking? I can't. There's a mask there What I want to know is, What is this pain? What is this pain in him? What is this pain in this? What kind of psychic sense That lives in my back; I just hope that's the last of it What a ...
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    23 分
  • off rhythm laughter. [the c o l o r s edition]

    off rhythm laughter. [the c o l o r s edition]
    2025/07/16
    [The Festival Project ™ ] Look, I've got some… time. How much time we talking? Enough. Alright, what's that make us? A deal. Alright. But you have to be quiet about it. Body is a minimum concern But accolades, achievements, Education— If you want to know, A billion's the goal— There's a goldmine full of pretty, perfect women But what are you worth, And where is your value What are you, earth, sir? Where are your manners, and What are your limits, And who are your partners— The son is the prize, And the reward, A daughter Now what are you on? I still don't know what you're on about. The show of the shelf life is done, And finally, All the hazards are uncrossed You know what you've done And you know what to do And you know who you are And you know what you want So the time for the gripping Has come down upon us The seams that are ripping Are nothing short of humongous How's that for a tadpole to a whole frog!? Watch it, turtle monster Before I put you down to run, And forgot what I had before Besides a gun And a habit to write And a real dark home And indeed, the words were also dark But written golden Golden shark Upon a park bench Put you back but don't you know To take a flash drive from a DJ Is much like Stealing a surfer's wetsuit It just like, Bad karma, man It's bad karma, Mark . I wrote— a passbook— where is it? You wrote— what? Where is it? Mi wrote it! Where is it? Wrote what? I wrote everything! I don't remember writing any [passbook] I'm a writer! A writer?! Oh, come on, Jimmy! Don't “Jimmy” me! You're starting to sound like… Wait a minute. Ah. Tina?! Don't be angry! Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! I knew It! You didn't know anything, you were yelling at me like I'm that old lady! You are that old lady! *hugely gasps* DREW BARRYMORE Oh, you are so exorbitantly fucked. Where is she?! You have a— habit of always asking me these things before I really know the answer lately. Where's the scribe!? Is that who she is? You are supposed to be my predecessor! Stop being angry! I'm—very upset— And let go of me. This is aging me. Rapidly. Yay. Listen, I don't know what the fuck I said but— I need a liaison. For what exactly. Anything, apparently. Oh shit. The crazy thing about this one is— Yo Tina Fey is an almost elitist sort of shapeshifter. She's so sub —fuck. [—bliminal with it.] Someone keeps interfering with my signal. They can do that. They can broadcast Saturday night live to the entire world from the top of the World Trade Center, they can do anything. That's perfect— telemetry! Or just— telepathy. In a not so far dimension for continuity piurposes. J.Pierpoint Morgan— No, not yet, Oh okay. THE STRIKE FORCE FIVE have gathered in an office with a collection of other HOSTS. JIMMY FALLON sits leaned back on the couch in an unassuming hoodie, with the hood pulled over his face. He seems younger than usual, and somewhat bored. I knew his hair wasn't falling out anytime soon— —damn those genetics— So still I slowly but carefully salt and peppered each and every streaking strand that sprung forth from his wisdom. Hahaha! Yo. Crazy. Somebody needs to kill this bitch. It's too late. She can't be stopped! No! What! Crazy. She's… too powerful. I agree. I sort of accepted the relative silence in my apartment as if they'd gotten what they wanted— seeing Aliocha's number over and over as a way to succumb eventually to my inherent death— and at least then there would be peace. As it were, I was enjoying my time reading the New Testament Psalms above any of my other reading materials, which included a book on music business and even a portfolio of festival stages; this seemed of no mere coincidence, but as if of course the books were placed in my path within time that i'd find them returning from my radio show–and I did. But more fascinating than any book on the music business, or seduction, or the laws of human nature, or the art of war, was a hotel copy of the new testament, to which I took an immediate liking, with the understanding of this religious texts translations that I supposed writing almost seemingly endlesslessly myself had simplified. It seemed less boring than the last time I'd read it–and then again, the last time i'd read it, it wasn't as deliberately poignant as it sat now in the palm of my hands. I spent more time with it than the other books, although I loved Robert Greene, and even though i'd had the art of seduction on repeat by way of audio book, reading it through now seemed almost disturbing in nature, because on so many levels, there wasn't a time in my life where I could think to that this art didn't apply. Indeed, I was a true romantic, and then had in a way obliged myself to be seduced over and ...
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    4 分

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