There is a hole in the world
All the doors are painted
a shade of liars faces
their colors while arriving
are also fading
but we are still here..
Where corroding slats of
63 year old wood
sound like the screams
echoing across
the crumbling pages of days
burnt yellow beneath the
fire of eyes
The purple pouring through unseen waves in the dusk sky as Janis joplin sang gray star clouds
into my heart
she sewed my wounds
with the ash of
of bodies adrift of lovers
living only in the mirage
air disguised
as smiles everlasting
glass of the
empty kind of love that lies,
and never breathes
yet forever dies
dreams devour you with
tears remembering the terror
in Janis's eyes,
she poured herself out
across the floor of the perishing world
while performing
"work me lord"
"live at stockholm 69'"
to the dark,
we were never there
we were born
into hands that were dying
we breathed our last breath of freedom-
then we were born,
It was then that
I heard the darkness cry.
we are dying..
because we have forgotten
the free gift given,
our lightless bones
loose around the spine
of every bolt we never knew,
strengthened our stance against
the murderous long night.
Choosing blindness,
over looking without sight,
The invisible mountain,
that breathed in our corroding
dusty hearts,
weilding love
against the demons behind
our mirror eyes..
Refusing to call his name..
we have lived for each one of us
just for ourselves  ("selflove")
so it is this then,
we have sold
our freedom
to the lie
named death.

Wraithlike shadows swiftly crawled toward a miami public chess table, dark green ivy growing along the fading checkered table top. the shadows slithered onto one of the benches, swirling upwards until they formed the shape of a dark toned young man, dressed in a long black punk-style trench coat. he wore leather gloves adorned with old runes, as was his black shirt and bandana he wore to keep his white hair back. there were a few chrome necklaces around his neck, the largest being a pentagram on a heavy chain. he sighed and waved his right hand over the table, demonic chess peices appearing beneath his touch, each one crawling with miniature demons on a blackened spire. he closed his eyes impatiently and let his dark aura spread over the surrounding area. the ivy on the table withered and died instantly along with the flora and fauna within a half mile of him. his eyes glowed a deep red
and his teeth, all of them incisors, extended into fangs. he was startled by a light voice behind
Him, "Leon. this is not the time." leon turned his head swiftly and growled, his features softening as he saw that it was the man he wanted to see. "Luminae... on time as usual. hows life in the Upper?" luminae wore a bright white suit, resembling human armani. he sat down adjacent to leon and waved his own chess peices into existence, each an angelic being weilding swords. they turned to be too bright for leon's eyes and he donned his red-tinted, coffin shaped shades. as the plant life began to regrow, luminae replied, "same as usual... holy war everywhere. i'm only allowed to see you now under supervision of three others." as he said that, three more men stepped out along the paths, clothed much like Luminae. leon half grinned, half scowled at luminae. "the boss had similar orders." leon snnapped his fingers and a trio of demons appeared next to the white clad angels. swords appeared
in the angels hands, ready to potentially cut down their enemies, but luminae waved away their
Suspicions. leon also commanded his overseers to remain shadowed. "you start, luminae."
luminae waved a simple angelic pawn forward, saying, "shame you can't join me in the upper, brother. how's the Foothills?"
leon countered by moving his knight, a grim reaper on horseback, dripping blood on the board, "dark... fiery... what else do you expect from hell?" he wore a deep scowl on his face as he said It, emphasizing the last word. "not a bit of sustenance as far as the eye can see.." luminae had seen through the disguise already, seeing that leon was little more than a charred, demonic skeleton, the fake-flesh creating what used to be the leon that they had known in their earlier lives.
as the chess pieces fell, they either burned or were saved by the opposing side. it came down to their final peices being kings and a single bishop on each side. luminae paused a moment, "you've gotten better at chess."
leon looked away, "its not chess... its a warning.. we are the bishops, luminae."
Luminae looked at leon, eyes narrowed to slits. "what do you mean, leon?"
leon sighed and waved a hand over the board, the peices disintigrating and forming a black scroll with bright red lettering. luminae dared not touch it, but read it, a look of shocked horror creeping across his face.
leon continued, "brother, boss wants me to **** you. you know what happens if we die again.." luminae nodded and waved the peices back into existance, seeing the Holy one as his king, and the ****** one as leon's. he looked at the bishops and saw in detail both of them, superimposed onto the peices.
"how long do i have to prepare, brother?" luminae gripped the hilt of his sword.
leon stood, "its already begun..." out of nowhere, tendrils of darkness wrapped around leon's arm and formed a jagged sword. the fake-flesh had begun burning away, leaving leon's true form, sinister and horrifying, shining black before luminae. empty eye sockets gazed at luminae and a hollow moaning shook the new-grown trees.
"goodbye, luminae." leon began to sink into the ground, falling into the Foothills. luminae watched as leon's guardians transformed into cackling ghouls and were released to wreak havoc on the world. luminae snapped his fingers at his own guardians, who followed the ghouls and destroyed them. "goodbye, brother..." luminae looked back at the four chess peices remaining on the board. he walked over and picked up the demon bishop, now safe to touch, depositing it in his pocket after clutching it tightly against his chest. as he touched it, he felt leon's sorrow, regret and anger. he felt little pity on him, though they had been like brothers in their pre-life, they were sworn enemies in the After. these chess games had been their only way to meet and relive a moment of their old life, granted by the High one and The ****** once every ten years under a neutral pact.
luminae also picked up his bishop and gave it a blessing, replacing it on the table for leon to retreive.
luminae sighed and
walked to the guardians. they all took a prayong stance and uttered a line of scripture, and then they were gone, leaving the park as it had been.
* *
Nero felt the intense flames licking at him from below as he descended. as he plunged deeper, the flames receded but the heat remained. when he finally touched the ground, he walked a winding path, past the ****** souls, each in their own private hell. nero scowled at them as he passed and stepped to a long sloping wall. he shook the gloves off his claws and drew a perfect pentagram into the side, opening a hidden tunnel system. he stepped forward and waved the door closed, then continued walking down the passage, the walls depicting numerous sins, ****, ******, deception, lust, and other such evils, all of which Nero had committed. he walked faster, to satan's chambers. the devil sat boredly on his seat, watching the same smokey images of his minions at work. "nero. welcome back to the foothills." the devils guardians set about beating nero until he could barely move. "you didnt ****
the angel, scaly *******. why?"
nero grunted and attempted to stand, "i wanted more of a challenge,
Thus i let him prepare."
the guardians let him stand. "interesting. but when you face him, you better have enough power to defeat him. i shall bestow upon you the power of ten thousand of my highest demons, do not come back empty handed, or each of their ****** souls will burn in your cursed chest."
the guardian closest to him and punched him in the spine, sending him to the floor. "un-understood... sir..."
a pentagram glowed on the floor around him, and he was bound to the spot. he felt a deep cold in him and then an intense burning as he was given the powers.
all according to plan...
*
luminae turned a corner on the golden street, the massive mansions towering over him. there was only one that he sought though, The Holy Ones' mansion, and his throne. he walked tentatively up the steps to the open gates, and stopped when he heard a commotion. he stopped and turned his head, seeing an angel, covered in runes, obviously a warrior as he had a fighter's vest and a sword in a
Scabbard. the angel had just jumped through a window and into a crowd of people, chased by a few Enforcer class angels. they locked eyes for a moment and luminae raised his hand, flashing first one finger then four. the one winged angel looked confused for a second and stood there in thought. luminae gestured towards the main gates, seeing the enforcers locate the one winged angel. the angel fled and luminae continued up the steps, hands in his pockets. *recruit number one...
* *

we walk with faces to the sky
the goddesses on earth
our words from a breathless heartsigh
we appear with old grecian beauty
and not such modern masks
it comes in hand with our ancient virtues
true to our everlasting tasks

hera; dark curls and flaming passion
striking down all who cross her
thin and wary is she

artemis; earthy flesh and midnight coils
gentle to the wild and bow-weilding
athletic and kind is she

demeter; flaxen tresses and tenderness
protecting her wards
mothering and calm is she

athena; thick legs and honey hair
raising blood-soaked war flags
wise and fearless am i

In every moon there is a man
And in every man there is a heart inside of which lives a woman
Who doesn't clean
Who doesn't cook
Who doesn't serve him
Only lives within the walls of his heart
And within every woman living in a man's heart
There is a desire to be free
It is not odd to imagine her leaving
Merely odd to see her go
Riding on the back of an elephant
In high heels
With a bottle of Chateau de Michelle
And weilding the sword of a swallowing minstrel
Drunkenly yelling songs of a time in which she never lived
And that will never leave a man
Whether the next woman comes in riding a golden chariot pulled by blazing reindeer
Or mounted on a shark wearing a cocktail dress
And while he laments her going
She regrets her ever having left
So she turns around
Looks into the vast nothing behind her
Trampled under the weight of the elephant
Cut down by her drunken fit of rage
Burned and eaten by the coming and going of others
And she sees
That beyond the husk of the home she once knew
Lay merely arteries and valves
And no soft place to lay her head
So she dismounts her companion
Lays down her sword
Crashes the bottle upon the rocks
Tears the heels from her shoes
And limps into the desert
Looking for that which she had already found
While he lie
Filling the emptiness of his ravaged heart
With the tender touch of fleeting acrobats

Life  is merely
a series
of before and afters
      begininngs and endings,
    
Sometimes we
are a fortune's king,
    weilding the key
to open
or close doors.

Other times,
our control is lost
and a line is drawn
    by the sword of a skillful hand
marking
         a change of heart
or opportunity.

Inevitably, death bows
to the governing power of Chronus
    holding time in his hands
  
But in between
the before and afters,
and the beginnings and endings
are moments.

   defining
turning
    quiet
stolen
of no return

Moments

The rhythmic newborn baby's cry,
    goodbyes that cast a shadow,
songs filled with Heaven's joy?
kisses that taste of forever,
      breezes that dance with the angels
   or quarrels armed with poison.
  
Moments

Some left with arms reaching
      for they were missed.
 a hesitant heart refusing love
words left unspoken
     time not taken
forgiveness held captive

Looking back
at memories held,
    moments have brought
light and darkness
but the missed moments
    have left the deepest scars
marking opportunity's lost.

So, I try to remember
  that in between
the before and afters,
   and the beginings and endings,
are moments,
    and I shall
adorn them in jewels
and embrace them in peace
lest them not be missed
for soon,
   they too shall pass.

It's about 2:30 in the morning
there you stand
a janitor
weilding your gigantic
paintbrush
in a full jumpsuit
and a bald cap.
Nobody's around.
The mophead slaps the ground
you dance with it
Swirling it all
across the checkered tile
with such grace
and such beauty!
Soak
Swash
Squeeze
Repeat.
What magnificent art
Such extraordinary
masterpieces
being created
night after night
across this marble floor!
Why,
Michaelangelo would be
turning in his grave!
A shame though,
That the paint is clear
and it dries away in about
15-20 minutes
and no one will
ever see or know
the greatest art ever created
by you,
the unknown custodian,
the master of sanitations,
the mop artist.

A glistening, shimmering, cardinal room flushed with  light.
Bright, white, pale, ghostly light that reveals those I conjecture to be the sick.
A pounding, loud rhythm lulls any intellect I still grip.
A fierce, shallow, pained pulse shakes my blue streaks.
All words escape me.
Yet all emotions haunt me.
The sickness draws near, weilding to be a blurry brass.
It feels me, touches me, handles me.
Hurts me.
A once well-kept health now littered with purple smudges.
The violet raindrops on my skin slowly dissolve to a sickly yellow.
Bones inside my complex anatomy quiver, tremble, threaten to crumble.
Yet, it's all over in slight second.
The crimson, glowing, glittering, sentient walls seem to cave in.
The next level, the next trial.
Blurred brass now replaced with a stick with no stains.
By now, I have no guesstimate as to why the fight in me faded.
Sccrrraape.
A gentle scrape, blade, cutting,cold edge slices me like paper.
Though my own rust spills, I feel more alive than ever.
My personal pulse and hesitant headache fade to null.
Hot, burning flames lap at my body.
I would never have imagined a sickness so horrifyingly painful.
A simple warning would never have stopped my doom.
Rip, tear, slash.
Guts held within my willing bowl now pour like Seppuku.
Maybe my own subconscious knew that it was more than I could connect too.
What am I now but a corpse?
Carved wood, turning death into a spectacular sight.
Roadkill, squashed within confines of a simple vermilion hold.
Bed head, Split head, and a  coma that came to soon.
A drugged animal, put down for instinctive behavior.
A gift switched around, like a fetus left dead in the womb.

This is a red room

I am no...Annie Leibovitz
weilding frames per second
in an angled lens
while you tilt your head back
to laugh at whatever it was
that I said.
It's beautiful.
The sound of your laughter
filling in-between pauses
like music,
so sweet and so dear
but I am no Henry Purcell.
The Fairy-Queen lilts like a bell.
It's all so much like magic
how tragic it is
to have your eyes see mine
and still never know I exist.
I am no Girl With A Pearl Earring
I just find you endearing
how if Sandro had found you
decades ago
You would be Venus
and I would be Picasso.
Both so different yet striking
and maybe you'd know
You are my everything.

and he isolates himself again
and she cries her eyes out in a crowd of friends
and we buy it all just to keep ourselves comfortable
and we lie to ourselves constantly
because the truth hurts and if they fall
we fall

what side are you on?
are we playing the same game even?
are we all double agents
out in the open?
are we all playing pretend
or is some of this the real thing?

is it eerie how i hear you
before you're even looking?

the best of us will be left performing magic tricks
for the guys weilding the biggest sticks

stick to the plan
get a tan
and collect fans
because you need to keep cool
[sure]
not in front of everyone
no
not ready for that
no please
no not while they're here
they
they need more time

you need more


you've had plenty

i've had enough

we all have

precisely my point

the point hasn't even begun to be reached

we're at it again

battling 'til surrender

remind me why


i can't breathe around her

her last wish kept me up all night

sir
they're at it again
we can't seem to stop them this time

we asked them to leave

i believe you
please

grieve





the loss of many
the loss of one man
or any number


it's been keeping me up
no slumber
that's right
every night
i couldn't sleep feeling another one leave
i made myself feel everything i could imagine
happening all inside of me

have they forgotten what it feels like?
have they robbed themselves of what they crave most
because they couldn't handle the pain of knowing any longer?

and now i'm numb
like you

still
                                                  craving
are
                                                  meaning
you
                                                  seeming
in
                                                  playing
love?
                                                dreaming?
no
                                                    for
ever?
                                                   lost
never
                                                    cost
not
                                                   most
once?
                                                   such
maybe
                                                 horrible
every
                                                   hosts
time

never
been shown the meaning
never
had it spelled out before
letters
in the sand
holding hands
no longer there

in circles we had drawn
we sang our favorite made up songs
it didn't matter that we didn't know the words
everyone could play along

i wouldn't remember later
but those songs reverberated
'round the walls of the crater

if i never see you in my dreams again
it's just one more i'll keep drawing until i get it right
one more silent vigil lit by fireflies


this morning ritual of mine is getting old
i've bought and sold enough to trade my soul
i've trained my soul for the day they take it all away
and it won't matter
'cause it's not my game and i never wanted to play
take me to the place you want me
stake me out
make sure it's nice enough outside
a place where children play
with paths for bikes to ride

you showed me in their faces
you showed me and i'll never be the same

i'm falling again
and i'm leaking  for my own sake
i'm speaking for no one in particular
i'm making it up as i go along
as i feel it every word feels wrong

but the sound of these
the rhythm of my knees shaking
the symbolism of an embolism
makes me tremble maybe there's more to stem from

can you trace the outline on the wall?
can you taste any of it at all?
can you hear if he's still in there?
can you tell if he has enough air?
can you get ahold of him?
how long's it been?
don't look at me that way
none of us ever expected this
someone should have expected this
is this serious?
should we be calling someone?
is there a problem?
are we in trouble?
don't you talk to anyone

the wrong mind in the wrong hands
will be forced to make new plans
wrong man sent to a new land
will take ownership and make demands

stained sheet
stars i lie beneath
cars i almost died behind the steering wheel
screaming out my rotting teeth
dotting every line
spotting every guy in the crowd in striped shirts
every spy in every automobile
behind every pile of rubble
behind every "i'm sorry we're having a little trouble with the connection"
"oh you didn't get my text? it must have been redirected..."

*11/5/12

Words of the masses are gathered in galleries,
Verbage is gathered in cloistering mass.
Masses are gathering to cloister their verbage
Where verbage is cloistered for masses to stash.

Nursing the words from a mind full of passion,
Coaxing the phrases to render them bold.
Weilding the pen with theatrical flourish
Hoping to God inspiration takes hold.

Legions of letters lie waiting in folders
Waiting for praise to hold up it's hand,
Begging acclaim from occasional perusal
To seeking the fame of a publishers' brand.

Passion and pain are an artists' portfolio
Ego and talent are held presupposed,
Preposterousness is taken for granted
But nil recognition gets right up the nose.

Gnashing of teeth and fingernail chewing
Coincide with a confidence fall
But the ultimate down in a work hard done
Is to have your peers ignoring it all.

A kernal grows from fleeting feelings
Inspiration holds the thought,
A thing of grandeur pens to greatness
Breathlessly... a script is wrought.

Dancing fingers grace the keyboard
Lilting music fills the air,
A wordsmith's touch of rich creation
Links the literate portrait's flair.

There tis done.. A thing of beauty
Silently I sit and stare,
Wordlessly, I thank the Heavens
Art is wrought and art is there.


Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
1 August 2010

Someone suggests that, "It is not wisdom
But authority that makes a law." Al,
With an obvious emphasis on the but, but,
As Confucius relates, people should be free.
With that all Americans agree, authority
That isn't wizened breaks life's Spirit,
Espirit de vie, instead of fostering it,
Realizing a people like the autocratic
Oligarchic narcissistic nihilist-in-chief,
Self-possessed to the point of being
A king-kong sized terrible-two, like his
Executive branch, which he's molded
Into rot, and it's attempting to destroy
The tree, this country, 'Turtle Island'.

So the as backwards remocrat approach,
While in ascendancy, because dempublicans
Didn't fight their hacking of our elections
Hard enough, isn't real or right, and
'Though it has come to pass, it's not
To stay, so say one and All. "..We(e),.."
Will not be undone, by the mediocracy
That thinks with spooned nose, speaks
With forked tongue, destroying democracy.
A society, fostered by progressing
Civilization, not a cleptocracy fueled
By technocracies' ravaging of the Earth.
For e.g., Confucian's 'Hanfu', "Heaven
Above, Earth below", manifests harmony.

Where man is betwixt, plumb, in balance.
It starts with individuals and "discipline,
Being the art of feeling awe..", Casteneda,
A combination of Jung's integrated self,
With Adler's integration into community,
A Sartrean freedom: "..we are free because
We are not a self, but a presence-to-self,
The transcendence, nihilation of our self.
We're other to our selves, that whatever we
Are or whatever others may ascribe to us,
We are in the manner of not being it.", no
Longer ego ridden, a tool in la machine's
Hand, rather, as it began, man weilding
Tools to better life, in nature's balance.

We can't go back to the righteousness of
Chief Seattle's, "..no one can own the land",
We can tread lightly, stalking ourselves,
Giving back to nature's abundance, a healthy
Skepticism, it's not the self-sacrificed when
We do what needs to be done, rather the false
Ego sacrificed at Thee's altar within.  Then,
As we left no footprints that followed none,
They will echo in all ways, and on, always.
So, on this tragic 50 th Memorial of the
Assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.,
Let us remember his shining example, and his
Spirits, "...judging not lest ye be judged's"
Compassion for his neighbor, "...treated as

He wanted to be", for he wanted to be more,
Ever studiously growing.  His dream was for
All who choose awakening.  So too, those who
Suffer, and suffer from false-ego, and
Its projections, in mental cells, built of
Walls of delusions, with bricks of illusions,
Their personal hells, shouldn't be judged
Autocratically, as laws can work and be
Compassionately applied.  Also, even
Though, King pulled "..the arc of the moral
Universe bends towards justice" out of his
As, we know, if we take bullets we aren't
Making them, addressing personal injustices
Stops them from becoming global ones too.

If we don't exercise our responsibilities
Their Siamese twin sisters, freedoms,
Will wither like unused muscles, as well.
"You can't dismantle the man's house with the
Man's tools (materialism)", Audrey, Gandhi's,
"Be the change you want to see in the world,
The root of all oppression lies in (supposed)
Science", though he pulled "Satyagraha", out
Of his as.  What we don't matters as much as
What we do, the manner in which we don't or
Do things brings light, life to them or it
Doesn't, those most attached to life or
Death are more closely death, live on your
Feet or die continually on your knees.  
  
You see, while might might make right, it
Always makes wrong, and fraternity rules.
Just because the invisible coup's lie,
"Hillary's not perfect", was let fly by some
Dinos, linos, sinos, ginos, ainos, hackers,
Kremlin kronies now in the kluckahouse, wicked
Leaks, 20 % of Bernie or bust bots, the US
Intelligence/police industrial complex, (who,
Like king george + his ****, cheney, purposely
Didn't prevent the attacks on 9-11-01, they
Didn't prevent the hacking of our 11-8-16
Elections, installing Trumpler, attempting to
Realize a borne again cold war, extreme theft
Of tax $, etc.) doesn't mean the world must

Fall to Ebony, ivory, the Black and white
Supremacies' cannibalizing the future, tax
Dolla's, in perfect harmony, to replicate the
Past's supposed: profits, pleasures + powers.
"..We(e),.." can stop ivory's: removal of DACA,
Reproductive, healthcare, and voting rights,
Blacks not having to wait till 2040 to get
Another President, instead they can get one in
2020, potentially, etc., for Ebony, and stop
Ebony's getting: rid of zero-tolerance in
Public school + harsh law, shorter sentences,
Earlier releases + paroles, waving of crack
Convictions, extreme war funding, gutting of
EPA's work, etc., for ivory, by dispelling the

Delusional construct of materialism, that
Actual religion, bi-headed, of the false gods
Of mammon, wealth, avarice, and mollock,
Extreme violence, grinding up seed (behind
The masks of Christians, Hindus, Atheists,
Etc.), exemplified in those merx for more's
Through to mercs for unnecessary unending
War's war machine, oiled by the blood of non:
United **** of assassins citizens, white,
Upper-middle-class to rich, supposed
Christians, which most worship, separating
"It from of the state", which is demanded by
The Constitution.  Then we can struggle to
Denotseefy the rest of the 21 flavors of, in

This 'baskin and robbins' of, supremacy.
Only then will this criminal conspiracy of
Criminal conspiracies again resemble a
Nation.  For e.g., take the trillion ton ice-
Cube that just dropped in the drink, coasts
Flooded costing us billions, so oil corps.
Can make even more $, making the egg shaped
Planet into a sphere, denaturing the Earth's
Defenses against the astronomical forces of
The Sun, Moon and continually degrading the
Earth's orbit around them.  It's God's tear,
And as a single tears story is seldom told,
That flood will wipe us out, like the lose
Of $ to get a photo of a golfer on Mars will.

It was almost a fairytale right at the start.
I was stuck, alone, in a high tower.
With nothing but my own
thoughts and fears.
I was pacing, and tracing
back and forth.
one moment to the next,
it never stopped.
You approached me alone,
unafraid,
weilding your sword and magic tricks.
I was amused by your antics
i only wanted more.
you brought your ladder
and laid upon my high tower
wishing for me to reach out,
i was so close yet you were
untouchable.
a fingertip away from the
inevitable.
you climbed and brought me closer
we were one step away from becoming lost together.
our very own happily ever after.
you could sense that i was
terrified by your demons
They followed you everywhere
and never gave you reason.
Your were a fingertip away
from saving me, from myself.
But your demons clawed holes through your eyes,
clouded your judgement,
and seperated your lies.
i couldnt believe the sight i had seen.
your demons tore rips
through our fairytale blitz.
you let them get to you, and hurt me.
they pulled you down,
and pulled you deeper.
down the steep ladder,
of my high tower.
you fell to the ground,
with a much dreaded shudder.
i could see you bleeding
all your pain and misery,
feeding the demons that brought you close to me.
i stood there enclosed within
my safe, secure, haven
and wondered if you would ever
stop breathing.
i am stuck inside my tower,
full of thoughts and fears.
waiting for you to come back
and rekindle my spirits
you will return in time
you are my last living hope
in mankind.
i need the comfort,
the thrills.
i await your return to me heels.
one day you will
escape all of your demons
and finally rescue me from my prison.

Azure limelight faded grey by the bewilderment
I am the King of All living, we remember
infested as the bunny and pine tree
weeping as mothers marry off their siblings
why wear white at weddings, why wish to be a innocent
a bottle of gin is a grin tonic for a child to see as an aching smell of visions last saw
as if Calvary was a horseman weilding a Lance
A tree to Long for us, grown in the desert
Already Peace flown in pure reverence Sang real
The Last Great Initiate,
Oh Reign, Reign, Rain, Rain, Reins, Reins

Dye his skin with the empowered wish of will
A well endless to stare through is warp drive
A might so glorious we all must avert our eyes, a New Motion
a **** gorgon, to start the serpentine on the sabbath
to revolve and molt in a revolutionary vulcan grip
to fly to the sky with birds writ uplift
delight, delicious, appeal. zeal, feel

Iesus covered in Liquid Cheeses
Sweet Fleeces its Christmas Season
Solar Deities yummy as Pizzas
A pie in the Sky is my age divided by the week
A pipe dream plumbed with gooey memories
the weaken ends of my jeans faded blue from seventy
charred black as the temples crystals phase out painted-glass Murals

too light to be mailed, too large to be contained by an envelope
too short to fit in the door way, too effulgent to weigh on the scale
Pi sees Men, laughing as a woman changing clothes on a curbside speaking
seventeen in one hand, zero at the bone in the other
IhavebeenChanced, Iamexceed, Iamtheether, Iamsanctioned
Fletcher Night: folllow your heart

It's a tragedy

You gaze into green eyes
Upon curves and stretch marks,
Onto a battlefield of scars,

Weilding two calloused hands,
A pair of average ears
All topped off with a crooked smile

A person you've liked, loved
Stares back from the blunt glass mirror
That person, you, is me.  


It's a tragedy

They're back, They’re back, Were under attack,
The lunar rabbits are out for a snack!
Alert the army, the navy and scrabble the jets,
The rabbits on the moon are down here with nets.
They come armed with cannons with weird purple goo,
They fire brown bullets like moon rabbit poo.
We have to fight back, with our own ***** bombs,
So, Fire the grannies in pink frilly thongs!
If that doesn't scare the big moon bunnies back,
Send in the school teachers, send them in in a pack!
Armed with rulers and dusters and big books of maths,
Throwing questions and fractions and patronizing laughs.

Alert all the animals from around the whole globe,
From the great Megladon to the smallest microbe,
Get the Austrian emu with the horns on its feet,
And the machine gun bees to assemble their fleet.
Call the ninja koalas and the samuari fox,
And rats in the prisons with socks full of rocks.
Ring the axe weilding pugs from Norway’s fjords,
And the peacocks from turkey with tails made from swords
Then maybe we can ride into battle on the back of a beast,
The mysterious king ***** that migrate from the east.
Well almost be ready to hold back the attack then,
I fell for that story once, I will not fall for the same trick again.

I hate being a damsel in distress,
Lying on the railroad tracks
with a villian laughing behind me
I’ve always fought back
Tie him up instead,
let him squirm in the coral snake pit
I’ve never liked being saved,
Seen as fragile and weak,
Standing here with my pretty dress and rose-petal cheeks
No, I’m not fragile, I’m not weak
I prefer boots over slippers
Trousers over skirts
I’m not some poor, defenseless litte princess
I know how to weild a sword

But then my knight came along,
And while I’d still fight,
There were battles I could not win,
Not without him
And when I collapsed beneath the dragon’s feet,
My knight came
Weilding a sword of tear-stained steel,
The metal reinforced with soul mates’ heartstrings
And he was brave, slaying the dragon
Even as I tried to get back up on my feet and say “Nay!”
The great beast fell, and my knight turned to me
Eyes glimmering with fear
“I know you prefer to defend yourself,
But it looked like you needed me here;
I couldn’t just let him devour you.”
I stepped forward, booted feet suddenly light
And surprised him with a crushing hug.
“Thank you,” I said, “thank you.
I will owe you forever for this, my knight.”
He smiled at me, relief lighting his face, and replied
“All I need in return is you by my side.”
We sealed the promise with a kiss.

But that still doesn’t make me
A damsel in distress.
I’m a knight, too, just like him,
And we save each other.

This country is run from the shadows
The goverment here is blind

Puppets for the evil ones that lurk and hide behind

They reach for global *******
from deep inside the black

They bomb and destroy there own buildings
then send their troops to Iraq

Must control the world
Before petrolium's obsolete

Before the energy source from the skies
arrives with its massive fleet

Who do you think is running this country?
It's certainly not Obama

Shadow men from behind the scenes
weilding Rockafellers hammer

Pray for the poor bald eagle
Felled by a bullet from a gun
Killing eagles is surely illegal
You better harness your weapon and run

Play for the old bald idiot
Who pays to see your ****** old band
It's him who keeps hollering "Play Free Bird"
When you've just finished playing "Free Bird"

He's an idiot
Killed a majestic bald eagle
Someone took photos
Isn't that also illegal?
Just an idiot
weilding deadly propulsion
clinching the deal with precise aim
He's no amateur
Just sloppy, careless
Might as well be an amateur
Don't feel sorry for the creep
He killed a big old bald eagle

Stay in your homes, for no reason leave
Comfortably dumb in the webs that you weave
Trapped by the ridiculous things you believe
Pray for the eagle, and grieve

Now you come to realize
Roy Orbison was the man
But you never played any of his songs
In your dreadfully ****** old band

The crowd could chant "Pretty Woman"
For all the good it would do
Your ****** old band couldn't play it
Even if they wanted to

There is a man making his way through a moonlit field of sugarcanes
He is weilding a machete that clears the way for him
He slashes viciously and clears an impressive area with each swing

The sweat is running down his forehead now
His breath and his heartbeat is all he can hear
Thanks to his tunnelvision a stray swing slashes through the canes-
and into his left leg

The dark stream is pooling in his boots now
He can't quite feel the pain, but panics none the less
The slashes grow more ferocious, a distinct twang sounds with each swing

The man inflicts more wounds upon himself
Each wound strenghtens his resolve in turn
Every swing greater than the last, every step more ******



There is a man laying in a moonlit field of sugarcanes
At first he curses the venture, what a sorry mess!
After that he weeps without sound, what else can he do?

Lastly he looks back at the whole thing
Sliced up vegetation and pools of dark blood
Everything will be ok.

A group of morons,
Weilding all sorts,
Chased the lot,
Men, women, old ones;

Threatened blood if they thumbed,
Even killed a few to make true,
Burned their timid decisions,
And dared any opposition;

Cowered into submission,
They handed over their sovereignty,
Resigned to generational servitude,
And an unending cyclical incompetence.

Mostly moving
Bold fast
Keep the garden in.

Hold it tight
Don't lose sight
of weilding enemy
With ease.

Breezes through trees,
Daisy in the breeze
Forever
Easy
Love.

Who is the man weilding my gun
when time stops and holds its breath?
Cold hate runs in his veins—
steady, unflinching death.

Engines roar, radios chatter—
Silent! Vision, sharp and thin.
All existence is ending
the threat closing in.

Thumb pushes the safety—
click
Center mass. Steady. Hold breath.
Squeeze.

Who wore my skin?
Foe? Friend? Truly me?
Will I ever see him again—
Bold stranger, powerful-- fear free?