GHOSTS, DEMONS, ANGELS AND FRIARS

THAT coalescing threat of fear, death,

That singular fact, it was not friendly

but a sound caressing the ears

Raising temperatures of moaning fever

 

And while dreaming was no release

And not evening wakefulness naively

Determined i found a third attempt

To relieve the crunching sounds so near

 

Inside of me i flew toward towers of

Steeples whose roofs were silver lips

And the colossal hips of Creator

And ghosts, demons, angels, and friars

 

AND all i see all without eyes

And all i taste so tasteful

Without lust upon the tip of tongue

Was this razor tipped extravagant mind

 

oh…  i believe

oh…  so believe

oh… my pilot of love

 

And a song from my ageless suit

of amour as hammers hoisted,

steel turning, piercing flesh

came the true friend: death

 

So… truth is sharp

so… who touches an edge

and is not cut to the soul

 

oh!  And all i see

is as the sun and

a colorful ground

beneath the breasts

 

of You

and the feeling

of all the Love

searching — i follow

the shadow of my married

one.  You.  Me.

 

:: 09-18-2017 ::

About EPRobles

Writer, Artist. I like to paint abstract acrylic images onto canvas. I love to read everything, and I especially enjoy science, philosophy, and the arts. I'm new to the blog experience and I very much enjoy it! I hope to learn as much about all the features that WordPress offers and thank you -- my visitor -- for taking time to read my words. Peace and love... View all posts by EPRobles

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