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Blank mind, cloudy vision
the satisfying crack of collision
from an elbow swung, or punch thrown
and in my ears, a buzzing drone

I breath deeply, and start to think
of how I was pushed, to the brink
I really do regret it now
I'd fix it but, I don't know how

But it feels so good, at the time
but the mind doing it, isn't mine
It's not the nice sweet child
with polite voice, and manners mild

But which am I and which is me?
Which one of those am I going to be?
The child, who's weak yet nice?
Or the monster, nobody crosses twice?
 May 2014 The Motherland
Liam
an ethereal presence
felt long before ever being heard
energy flowing through space and time
resonant frequencies with dynamic effect

inducing within romantic chambers
a rhapsodic ocean of dance and song
a mountainous symphony of possibility
a delicate and gentle concerto of dreams

musical princess of harmonic evolution
melodic instrument for conscious healing
emanating perfect pitch whether sharp or flat
an athenaeum of inspiration and maternal lyricism

...oh, to remain in concert...
I found -in the shadow of a
Crane rigged and ready- that
I couldn't help myself.

Took a ladder to the huge sphere
Of chipped and battered iron,  
And threw one leg on either
Side of the chain.

Sang leaning and rocking
Into the walkie talkie
As my foreman spat his
Coffee not to choke; laughing along
With Swedes, Polish, Lithuanians
And Norwegians alike.

Miley. Bringing people
Together.
Faded perfume tonight on your neck
Shattered spine heartless and torn
As a wintry frost unfolds
Shamed moans that I believed
Leaving scars in the lowest trees
The world was stunned as the a Dark One fell,
His legacy blooming like a black-petaled rose.
The thorns pierced through the eyes of man,
And the Devil cried with me.

He showed the frozen skin of morals--
With gaping pride and ******* strength--
Adorned and caressed by machinery.
And the Devil cried with me.

There was babies in the barrel,
And an alter upon the horns.
******* cries far-and-wide.
And the Devil cried with me.

Harmonics perching on twisted limbs,
And darkness bursting from our chests,
Our greatest nightmares echo His sinister sight...
And the Devil cries with us.
I was truly crushed to hear of the recent passing of one of my favorite artists, H.R. Giger. Though this is a belated homage to the man that brought us the creatures from the Alien movies and KoRn's mic stand (just to name his most recognized work), I felt the need to offer something up in his honor. I didn't want to take this too literal out of respect for the surrealism the man inspired, but, at the same time, credit was most certainly do.

RIP, Giger. Your legacy will rage eternal.
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