Teachings of the Temple of Funk
Defied by my distorted Arcadia, the celestial dichotomy wisps into oblivion. An archaic metropolis departs the astral horizon, forever lost to the cosmic void; my intransigent vehemence withers. A broken and becalmed thrall, I wander the desolate abyss for aeons shattered and denigrated. Once a revered prophet of the divine, I seek purpose, judgement, vitality. But retribution is inconsequential under the piercing gaze of of the seraphs. My only salvation manifests itself in the semblance of a big-tiddy goth gf with thick thighs that could crush a watermelon and/or my head.
time without time. for it had not yet been invented. yet, hurtling through space with the speed and fury of a billion fists, the funk abounds. it began. four billion years ago. a microbe, the first of the living. the microbe thought not of the funk, yet it was within them. then came the fish. they swam through the oceans like the mind swims through dreams. homo habilis, the creater of the first tool. homo funkus, well, lets just say they had other ideas. man the age of funk tempest