Omen through Darkness

Someone's ciphoning out the liquor from these courageous fists
and someone's being burn't to a crisp, shattering down to dusts,
cindering down through rust and being blown off the palm.
Someone's knocking the rock at their skull with a mighty speed
and kissing beads with sorrowed toxicity- they speak, the amen,
is mushy of brainy bile and proceeding to on stilts
between a new york city and L.A., they seem to want to
leave, upheave or sieve retrieve some lead, some right
with hands brushed through fogged clouds of poison,
someone goes.

Someone sits with a metour raging down, high above
the wonder and the stars, someone sits barring on down.
All the trains that surf the hills take a breath of helium
and levitate up off the tracks to get a better view.

It's two lonely souls, so high, so gone,
the radio jabbers on and all about these two,
tearing on down, blasting on through,
the hopes of our sympathetics
should come through.
"Will they survive at that speed?"

~

The Move to Love

Black hole of a rabbits eye
onto me comes a sense of feathers,
take out an eye with the fingers
this pulsing curiosity of life matter.

Lonely, listening to Bach with an old breeze,
the fountain in the courtyard ever spouting.
What are these violent thoughts
that come onto me? I take it easy.

Black hole of a rabbits eye,
comes onto me a wicked weather,
and she hops from me playfully
the flapping cape of a forest,
floating through space with her lovelines.
Whenever stars collide and the fire settles down,
in the black hole of a rabbits eye,
this wicked temptatation weather.
I think I like her.

A bit lonely with Bach.
A newborn voice is nested in my throat
but only these vibrating knees
under this twitching sun
and I'm spell casted.
Just make me real,
bring me back to the nexus.

~

Wish Upon a Star

Through space,
petunias shed the angled star flakes,
in dazzling dust of pollens,
there's another wish for life.

Rodent families multiplying,
The red moon comes to watch over.

The bloody owls whose
wicked feathers scoop up the years,
their dislodged eyes that rot in obscure beauty.
The torn bellies of pure orange foxes
spilling red and intestines all over.
There's a wish for life
as it soaks into the ground,
as maggots munch so graciously.

The red moon comes for
for the wolf and his brethren.
To their dance of death
around the bones
making spiritual glimmer,
for the shaman's heart that shivers.

Trying to preserve
or honor something
with its red and golden gleam.
I wonder:
What is in a crest
and what is in a fire,
when I see that fiery star
ripping 'cross that moon.

~

A Vision

Dog in a
field of aging grass,
her fading fur,

her soul that is all about her
trembling just above her
as she barks.

My thoughts of warmth and flesh, I'm trembling.
But the sun keeps me warm, so
I'm not crying yet.

Companionship. Whatever sky
comes to horizons with drying crimsons,
the meltings and sealings of layers over layers:
the sealing of something for a day,
whatever is caught that makes it day.

Companionship, whatever sky
comes to terms with a horizon, the bloody redness,
the melting and sealing of layers over layers.

Seeking that dog 'cause
my soul, almost seperates from me.

~

Shaping Fear

There's a hole in my basement
to some place I don't know.
And by this hole is a darkness,
one that I cannot know.
I think or I don't think
about being possessed
or about decrepid things
taking place in my soul,
I am the nesting ground
for life and death,
mine and theirs.

Should my holiness of color,
the thickness of my blood
scare away limp spirits,
or should something unexpectedly evil
have a chance at my open mind,
the demon of my confusion
scratching away my name
for a fresh order from his truly, (?)
the king of deadliness
to do some bastardly thing.

There's a hole in my basement
to some place I don't know.
And by this hole is a darkness,

I listen intently
by the edge of this hole.
I can hear the cries of something,
something that I cannot know.

Braveness or courageousness, strength
come to me or I'll die, ...something!
what am I
if anything but a fragile ring
for terror to corrupt,
for truth to dry,
it is that simple.

~

Healing Structure

I'm in an ancient temple
whose brown respite is humming dust.
It tells me the tales of lonesome wanderer's:
how their eyes collected bits of mud
and filtered it through with fresh tears,
with tears and with the deaths they've seen
and flowers that reminded them of caverns
and caverns that reminded them of love,
and love that reminded them of a past.

Enourmous walls of the temple
whisper wonder and calmness,
walls the gritty colors of bronze and gold
reflecting and opaque, faith spiraling and clear around the altar
and up to the ceiling, searching for a larger room to soothe.

The fields, in the blanket of the sun's light
and in mirages, never enough but sometimes,
which era, brave men and women
passing through, leaving, crying, rejoicing,
tending wounds, fresh water from a spring,
the temple of respite and repose
that houses sanctioned green light,
healing effervescence, bring to them,
our lonely travelers white light.

~

A Daydream

Flowing through as a fish,
streams that gleem
from silver seams,
the forest echos sunshine
the splendid air.
Going with a water song.

Tales of the swamp from my favorite person
weave a blanket in my mind:
weeds beneath still sheen
with furry moss on ranked rocks,
a shady, cool earth radiates.

Blue-green.
I wonder about that little slug.

The crust of the Earth
is moist as dough,
a utopia's a-risin'
and everyone's divin'.

Land in the clouds;
in the lake-home mirrors, blue.
We all get coo'ed blue
with compassion's ooze,
all living in the sky.

~

The Louts

Itching dragon's throat:
collapsed torrents - ignorance swarming,
the heaps of gold in refractions dance,
they come and go and take what they can,
the desperate plunderers, dressed and fit
equipped with rusty blades
fall into a soft traps swift, the corruption of,
evil intent, passion, treasure
on the black shining marble,
last kiss, itching dragon's throat,
dragon's itching distortion.

Her hair in ugly snarl that
her eyes in cyclones
he shouldn't forget,
a mission of darkness ignores
all the curls in her face, yet desire's
obsession-- her ears pricked up by stabbing
and questioning the skies, the sun glides
through her eyes green spectral forlorn,
(past love in the vatican
with all the stench of roads)
does a blade cut flesh
calls the butcher there mourn,
she injected seeks the skies
before afflicted falling straight out.
Him dejecting the sword outright
from her left breast, no doubt.

Itching dragon's throat
called the cave,
dived right in equipped with staves,
we, but who we were?
Took a step into
the bloody curtain of discourse
for the glowing grail of eternia?
Hunting danger so shoddily
with the beast like quality,
almost forgetting of this Earth?

Of her eyes killed
never once said yes
lest the winds were smiling right,
never trusting roosters
in a morning that's been shot.
The kind of trust he had in her.

The entrails of a goddess night
spills blood the detailed map,
death is full and silent,
death is informative.

Itching down the dragon's throat
found we wicked torrents corrupting sense,
the traps of doom came upon us in sixth sense,
swallowing all the damn dirt, we were.
We were poor old louts.

~

She's Special

So detailed at birth
that she bore these magical rings
for life and love and the goddess dove,

(limbs wracked with hardened sunshine
and a spirit waiting solemn,
in cold shade)

so halo that furried giants
carry her along by saddle,
a warm chain hanging from her temples, ..

her moss-gleamed bracelets
spinning round her wrists,
presenting fresh excitement
with elaborate lips, the state that she's in,
exploring grand canyons adoring,
she, multiplying like balloons
spreading color all through-out the air,
extending plates of energy to the ware.

~

Doubled Beauty

The surprise that I found
like lilies in her eyes,
that she the younger sister
of a sister that I knew.

The older with brown eyes and
the younger with blue.
The older with brown hair and
the younger with blonde.

Odd melody that sings
between siblings serene,
I'm a man that they intertwine
and weave about me,
oh what their collective
beauty is to me.

The older one I knew
and that I 'crushed' her too.
What offspring in magicka
creates this ether blue,
a question of love?

Coagulating wounds
to boys who've known their noons,
they finess eachother's plumes.
The heightened love of double,
oo.

The surprise that I found
like lilies in her eyes,
that she the younger sister
of a sister that I knew.
both beautiful, too!

~

Midnight Mint, to Sleep

I have my midnight mint.
Fond memories of the day
flow and sort into each other,
lay themselves down
with easied blue heart
and rest and breathe-a harp.
Arpeggios about this human
like pleasance felt in rays.
Music plays, music stays.

From the river of menthol
on a stone arch bridge,
I sense the progress
that heals like morning dew,
in birth and rebirths new,
the slew of feeling cool.
Thin dragons fly happy, too.

From sea-floor to sea shore
there's ever something more.
The sprouts of neon lore,
the sky's an open door.
Gazing past the ocean
my sins begin to pour.

I have my midnight mint
rejoicing the gemstoned day,
the clouds and how they layed
with sunlight through the day,
the warm finness of May.

And now the moon shines
through me and guarantees:
my spirit should rest in order,
come back to me my way.