The Seven Faces of the Ropen: A Mythic Codex in Quatrains

 

Album Name: Ropen, Seven Mythic Faces

Look for links to actual songs for download coming soon...

1. The Guardian of Forbidden Memory

Musical Style: Ambient tribal fusion

Instrumentation: Thunderous rock metal guitars lock in with aggressive rap verses over syncopated drums and ethnic percussion, The intro launches with a heavy riff, then layers in rap flows, sitar samples, and subtle oud lines, Choruses explode with double-kick drums, soaring guitar, and group chants, fusing genres seamlessly

In jungle thick, where temples weep,
A shadow carves the moonless deep.
The Ropen guards what time disowns—
Stone lips sealed shut with ancient tones.

A whispered name in native tongue,
Will call the beast with a silver lung.
It screams not rage, but long regret—
For truths once known, now cold, unmet.

When children wander near that place,
Their dreams grow eyes and serpent face.
They wake with glyphs upon their skin,
As if the past had been carved within.

In depths of green, where secrets sleep,

A Ropen’s shadow, promises to keep.

Not just a beast of ancient lore,

But cosmic wisdom, and so much more.

It glides on wings, a silent grace,

Leaving stardust in its wake, no trace.

With eyes that hold the universe’s gleam,

It shatters notions, like a waking dream.

A spectral cry, a mystic song,

Reveals where cosmic truths belong.

Forget your monsters, grim and dire,

This Ropen ignites celestial fire.

No ancient death, just life reborn,

From nebulae, each stellar morn.

It’s not a beast, but cosmic sage,

Turning eternity's every page.

When children wander, pure and bright,

Their minds expand with cosmic light.

No serpent faces, but a star's embrace,

Reflecting wonders of time and space.

The Ropen gifts them cosmic sight,

To see beyond the fading light.

A timeless bond, a sacred vow,

To cosmic wisdom, bowing now.

For in its depths, the Ropen dreams,

Of shifting cosmic, ancient streams.

It calls to souls, brave and so free,

To share in cosmic mystery.

A silent guide, in astral flight,

Unveiling wonders, day and night.

The cosmos sleeps, but wisdom wakes,

As Ropen's dance, new vision makes.

In depths of green, where secrets sleep,

A Ropen’s shadow, promises to keep.

Not just a beast of ancient lore,

But cosmic wisdom, and so much more.

It glides on wings, a silent grace,

Leaving stardust in its wake, no trace.

With eyes that hold the universe’s gleam,

It shatters notions, like a waking dream.

A spectral cry, a mystic song,

Reveals where cosmic truths belong.

Forget your monsters, grim and dire,

This Ropen ignites celestial fire.

No ancient death, just life reborn,

From nebulae, each stellar morn.

It’s not a beast, but cosmic sage,

Turning eternity's every page.

When children wander, pure and bright,

Their minds expand with cosmic light.

No serpent faces, but a star's embrace,

Reflecting wonders of time and space.

The Ropen gifts them cosmic sight,

To see beyond the fading light.

A timeless bond, a sacred vow,

To cosmic wisdom, bowing now.

For in its depths, the Ropen dreams,

Of shifting cosmic, ancient streams.

It calls to souls, brave and so free,

To share in cosmic mystery.

A silent guide, in astral flight,

Unveiling wonders, day and night.

The cosmos sleeps, but wisdom wakes,

As Ropen's dance, new vision makes.

2. The Harbinger of Dimensional Leakages

Musical Style: Electroacoustic minimalism

Instrumentation: Modular synths, Thunderous rock metal guitars lock in with aggressive rap verses over syncopated drums and ethnic percussion, The intro launches with a heavy riff, then layers in rap flows, sitar samples, and subtle oud lines, Choruses explode with double-kick drums, soaring guitar, and group chants, fusing genres seamlessly

Where lightning tangles sky in thread,
The Ropen stirs from a storm-lit bed.
It flies not forward, but between—
A living seam in what has been.

Its eyes reflect not light, but breach—
Where cause and consequence unreach.
Those who look too long will find
They've left their thoughts one breath behind.

It lives where echoes come too soon,
And suns reverse to birth the moon.
The Ropen’s cry—an unstruck bell—
Marks rifts where the future cannot dwell.

Where lightning tangles sky in fractured thread,

The Ropen stirs from its storm-ravaged bed.

It flies not forward, through the temporal stream,

But ever dances in a waking dream.

A living seam in what has always been,

A shimmering tear in the cosmic scene.

It calls to those who seek the deeper light,

To understand the boundless, endless night.

Its eyes reflect not photons, but a breach,

Where cause and consequence no longer reach.

A swirling vortex, where all order bends,

The origin of what begins and ends.

Those who gaze too long within that gaze,

Will find their thoughts unmoored from earthly maze.

Their very essence stretched beyond the known,

A seed of starlight, newly sown.

It lives where echoes come before the sound,

Where silence hums on consecrated ground.

And suns reverse their course, in spectral gleam,

To birth the moon, a universal theme.

The Ropen's cry—an unstruck, hollow bell—

Marks rifts where the future cannot dwell.

It guides the seeker to the void's embrace,

To find new wisdom in that sacred space.

For truth resides beyond the shallow glare,

In shadows whispered, answers in the air.

The Ropen beckons, with its ancient plea,

To shatter norms, and truly set us free.

It offers passage to the deepest mind,

A boundless wisdom, for all humankind.

So follow close, the creature's silent flight,

And step beyond the edge of day and night.

3. The Anti-Light

Musical Style: Post-classical noir

Instrumentation: Detuned Thunderous rock metal guitars lock in with aggressive rap verses over syncopated drums and ethnic percussion, The intro launches with a heavy riff, then layers in rap flows, sitar samples, and subtle oud lines, Choruses explode with double-kick drums, soaring guitar, and group chants, fusing genres seamlessly

A Phoenix weeps in spectral dusk,
Its wings of ash, its flight a husk.
The Ropen rises not to burn,
But turns all fire to lessons spurned.

It comes to those who fear the night,
Not to consume, but steal their light.
Its breath will draw the secrets out—
The truths we buried in our doubt.

One cannot flee this spectral wing,
It is the soul's unwelcome spring.
It tears the veil with feathered shade,
So masks may fall and debts be paid.

A Phoenix weeps in spectral, fading dusk,

Its wings of ash, a sorrow-laden husk.

No fiery rebirth, no bright, ascending grace,

The Ropen rises, changing time and space.

It comes not blessed, to cleanse with searing heat,

But turns all flame to lessons, bittersweet.

A mirror held to glories, once desired,

Now spurned and lost, a truth too long retired.

It seeks out those who tremble at the night,

Not to consume, but steal their inner light.

No ravenous maw, no hunger to possess,

But a subtle drain, revealing emptiness.

Its spectral breath, a whisper in the air,

Will draw the secrets out, beyond all care.

The hidden shames, the truths we tried to bury,

Now laid quite bare, a burden we must carry.

One cannot flee this grand, ethereal wing,

A feathered shadow, what new knowledge brings?

It is the soul's unwelcome, chilling spring,

When dormant fears awaken, keenly sting.

It tears the veil with feathered, solemn shade,

Where fragile masks, so carefully arrayed,

At last may fall, exposing every flaw,

And ancient debts are paid, by ancient law.

For in that stripping, profound wisdom lies,

A painful truth, reflected in its eyes.

4. The Last Breath of Atlantis

Musical Style: Oceanic mythic ballad

Instrumentation: Thunderous rock metal guitars lock in with aggressive rap verses over syncopated drums and ethnic percussion, The intro launches with a heavy riff, then layers in rap flows, sitar samples, and subtle oud lines, Choruses explode with double-kick drums, soaring guitar, and group chants, fusing genres seamlessly

Above the coral’s shattered dome,
The Ropen flies where dreams find home.
Its wings recall a time now drowned,
When stars were named and cities crowned.

It circles ruins none can chart,
And hums the tones of ocean heart.
Its glow reflects lost library halls—
Where crystal sang through liquid walls.

Some claim to hear it speak in sleep,
With vowels too old and far too deep.
They wake with salt upon their brow—
Their breath a tide they can't disavow.

Above the coral's shattered, ancient dome,

The Ropen glides where banished dreams find home.

Its wings, a flickered reel of ages past,

Recall when grander cities held us fast.

When stars were named with reverence, bold, and bright,

And empires hummed with knowledge, bathed in light.

A feathered whisper, from a world long gone,

A phantom echo of a coral dawn.

It orbits ruins that defy all maps,

And hums the ocean's heart in rhythmic taps.

Its otherworldly glow, a spectral gleam,

Reflects lost libraries, a liquid dream.

Where crystal choirs once resonated clear,

Through sapphire walls, dispelling doubt and fear.

A silent archivist, on currents borne,

Recalling tales that time has left forlorn.

Some swear they hear its ancient, murmured plea,

When sleep descends, and thoughts run wild and free.

With vowels too old, too deep for mortal ears,

It weaves a tapestry of vanished years.

They stir awake with salt upon their brow,

A taste of oceans they cannot disavow.

Their very breath, a tide that pulls and swells,

A cryptic message from forgotten wells.

A phantom tide, a sorrow-laden sigh,

For knowledge lost beneath a boundless sky.

It searches still, for wisdom long concealed,

Upon a watery, unyielding field.

So listen close, when ocean breezes call,

For Ropen's wisdom, echoing through all.

A cryptic truth, on ocean currents hurled,

The final breath of a forgotten world.

5. The Luminary of Descent

Musical Style: Deep ceremonial drone

Instrumentation: Gong, didgeridoo, Thunderous rock metal guitars lock in with aggressive rap verses over syncopated drums and ethnic percussion, The intro launches with a heavy riff, then layers in rap flows, sitar samples, and subtle oud lines, Choruses explode with double-kick drums, soaring guitar, and group chants, fusing genres seamlessly

It does not fly to lift or save,
But guides the soul into its cave.
The Ropen’s light is ink and coal—
The map that charts the buried soul.

It hovers when the heart has split,
Where trauma lies but won't submit.
Its eyes like lanterns in the maw,
Demand we see what once we saw.

For every wingbeat, shadows rise,
Not to consume but to advise.
The Ropen leads not out, but through—
Till fire inside reflects what’s true.

It seeks no sun, nor heavenly gleam,

But pulls you down a flowing stream.

The Ropen's lantern, dark and deep,

Reveals the secrets you would keep.

It doesn't lift, it doesn't save,

But guides you to your inner cave.

When fractured hearts refuse to mend,

And hidden wounds refuse to end,

Its steady gaze, a fiery stare,

Demands you face what lingers there.

It hovers close when life's gone wrong,

Where buried trauma hums a song.

With every beat of shadowed wing,

Not dread it brings, but truth to sing.

It doesn't lead you from the fray,

But guides you through the darkest day.

So trust the path, though rough and grim,

Till inner light shines from the rim.

6. The Echo of the Unmanifest

Musical Style: Silence-interrupted choral requiem

Instrumentation: Thunderous rock metal guitars lock in with aggressive rap verses over syncopated drums and ethnic percussion, The intro launches with a heavy riff, then layers in rap flows, sitar samples, and subtle oud lines, Choruses explode with double-kick drums, soaring guitar, and group chants, fusing genres seamlessly

In silence thick with unborn names,
The Ropen flies through unlit flames.
Its wings brush paths that never were—
The might-have-beens that softly stir.

It cries with voices not yet heard,
A dirge composed of unborn word.
It dwells where choice did not collapse—
A ghost of all unrealized maps.

It comes to those who nearly dared,
Whose longing made them too prepared.
And when it flies, it leaves no trail—
Just ache, like breath behind the veil.

In silence deep, where names unborn convene,

The Ropen drifts through flames unseen.

Its feathered sweep, on paths that never were,

Awakens every 'might-have-been' to softly stir.

No common beast, this phantom of the air,

It glides through dreams, a whisper of despair.

For every choice unmade, a silent chime,

It charts the ghost of unspent time.

It cries with voices, yet unheard by man,

A cosmic dirge, a future's solemn plan.

A symphony of wishes, unfulfilled,

A melody of futures, gently stilled.

It haunts the spaces where decisions pause,

And writes a map of all unrealized laws.

A cartographer of whims, a spectral guide,

To all the lives we left, deep down inside.

It comes to those who stood upon the brink,

Whose courage wavered, causing souls to shrink.

Whose longing burned, a fiercely hungry fire,

But fear held fast, preventing their desire.

For those too poised, too ready for the leap,

It sings of chances buried, slumbering deep.

And when it goes, it leaves no dusty track,

Just gnawing ache, a longing looking back.

A subtle sting, a phantom of regret,

Like words unsaid, or love we haven't met.

7. The Sky-Walker of Ancestral Judgement

Musical Style: Ancestral orchestral lament

Instrumentation: Thunderous rock metal guitars lock in with aggressive rap verses over syncopated drums and ethnic percussion, The intro launches with a heavy riff, then layers in rap flows, sitar samples, and subtle oud lines, Choruses explode with double-kick drums, soaring guitar, and group chants, fusing genres seamlessly

In dusk's tribunal, wings expand,
With feathered scrolls in a taloned hand.
The Ropen watches kinship's chain—
Who broke the vow, who bore the strain.

It speaks in winds through hanging trees,
In rustling codes of ancient pleas.
Each guest a name, each storm a debt,
It flies where truth has not been met.

When generations lose their thread,
The Ropen marks the path they bled.
Its final cry, both curse and grace—
A reckoning sung through blood and place.

In twilight's court, where shadows loom,

The Ropen's wings dispel the gloom.

With feathered scripts, a weighty claw,

It judges lineage, binding law.

It sees who faltered, who stood tall,

Who answered honor's ancient call,

And those who let their duties cease,

Disrupting generations' peace.

Through whispering boughs,

Its voice takes flight,

A language born of fading light.

In rustling leaves, old truths unfold,

Of promises kept, stories told.

Each falling leaf, a name recalled,

Each gust of wind, a debt installed.

It soars where honesty's grown thin,

And shadows hide the faults within.

When family ties begin to fray,

And ancient wisdom falls away,

The Ropen charts their weary tread,

The heavy tolls the lost have bled.

Its mournful cry, a potent sound,

Reckoning echoes all around.

It sings of roots, of tangled fate,

Before forgiveness comes too late.

So heed its flight, its solemn gaze,

Through history's labyrinthine maze.

For every link, a silent pact,

A legacy no one can retract.

The Ropen's justice, sharp and keen,

Exposes what has always been.

A feathered scribe, it writes the score,

For kinship's bond, forevermore.

This album set is (currently)only going to be self distributed on my website. Maybe…

It is using a mythical creature to reiterate some life lessons we all need. That is the general purpose. However, as always, WORDS AND LYRICS CAN HAVE DIFFERENT ESOTERIC MEANINGS TO EACH INDIVIDUAL THAT CHOOSES TO PERCEIVE ITS TRANSMISSION THROUGH RECEPTION OF WHATEVER MEANS. Simple… Dubz