EYES as large as acres that see,
some hidden things.
ORBICULAR VISUS
are secrets deeply hidden under
divided worlds.
Our smallest of small;
a globe of fragile glass,
Within the smallest of
our hands,
But by it’s Soul and by it’s
Spirit of a heart of Crystal
pass,
Tininess voices through twilight
land be heard,
the most sincerest liar —
the mind suited for war
is our sight
by this night
of all nights
heard.
:: 01-28-2019 ::
I DIE WITH YOU
IT’S so much — the little THINGS
entered my SOUL & MOUTH so far
AWAY from denial
then, as now, i KNEW you were
SUMMER within WINTER where-ever
time and space folds ; collapses
and tearing at the brain.
is LOVE so beautiful is
the world — revolution time
who is sleeping at the wheel?
We keep track and tack notes
trying to reach out to YOU
— the world of sleeping
beautiful souls. Beautiful
beautiful Ones. So fly away
so fly into Space so wise
werelings flying with YOU;
I LOVE
as you fly into space
so wise //i am with you.
:: 01-24-2019 ::
W O RD S
i, as me if “i” am One
as though, when child
greatest mysteries revealed
in TWILIGHT.
there as then IS one
as alone as none —– we
look
confused // the gulf of mis-
pronounced history-LOVE
Thinking: –> surpass
fleshingly aches of Life;
Kiss and knowing ALWAYS
this one of ME
out of any reach.
W O RD S
:: 01-24-2019 ::
WITH thin fingers
(my love) who knows
worlds of than great;
a summer’s glint
more as eyes, love
as a disguise unknown
were victories nameless
beside their glories
Stood cold so damp
memories of
or
goldenly floating
inside my youth i
sang dreams penetrating
space over time
washed away all glint
of light within my mind
Well, we dare — escaping
alive silentness gods
to kiss “most beautiful
o most beautiful” hearts
her, my life, as liars
kill their kind.
:: 01-24-2019 ::
MEMORIES are wet streets
reflecting a light
And the distant storm
a table cloth of denial
An edge of coming Winter
razor blades of truth
Endings and beginnings
of wars and songs.
:: 01-24-2019 ::
I am not the i of the world.
The days of life did some thing
that my self does not approve.
Their veiled eyes lie —
of no light that i (me of me)
hide my face within the dream;
Now the world is alone.
Does it still exist?
For no other reason than
pain it may but then not me.
Most have gone this way;
all met with rage, with
caged souls, beside humanity
isn’t that their most?
A dirty word: hello.
A nerdy bird: i feel stupid.
as if accused.
Life offers gifts
blessed are the meek.
but not for you.
Not for me.
i am not the i of the world.
:: 01-23-2019 ::
TWO inches deep within grass
prolonged but not old
There i can find, as old as
Victorian Letters, the days
of all my dreams, a breath
away from Death but held
as the Silver Legend of Life.
Orbicular seas of blue and white
soaring bird dots and breeze
the moment takes me to another
life that’s wide and timeless.
So i am as the moment frozen
held within my heart —
passion-glow embraced of one
who lives deep within the
Spirit’s roots kissed.
no dream dreamt no song sang
no rain ranged among
The Paradise of Silver Legend.
:: 01-23-2019 ::
A COLOR empty of me
Washed hands bleached
Eyes know what wrongs
That kill every little
-ness of you // a thousand
Tears a thousand years
And i still don’t know:
Am i a nightmare?
A hero, or maybe some
one who touched the addicted
-ness of all you love.
:: 01-23-2019 ::
PLEASE sir, take away my eyes
you see the sky’s all wrong
spinning around (whatever i do)
it’s her, Mother Mary crying
upon her knees screaming;
i did it all wrong
and what i’ve done
cannot be undone
whatever i do
whatever i do
whatever i do
it’s all wrong
but all so true
Touched the skin
of a celestial being
just a little thing
changed me
changed the world
begging you take my heart
you see all that the world feels
i feel
i feel
i feel
the sky spinning all around
no matter what i do
:: 01-23-2019 ::
There as still and quiet as dead.
Sleeping. ?
Yes.
The walls had grown used to the scene. The dreams tired of the same actors with different faces.
The dead take care of their own.
The corpse lit the room’s lamp and in the gray dark began to work.
It bathed the perpetually sleeping body that lay in bed. Trimmed the hair and applied blush to it’s cheeks.
The sleeping know nothing of the awakened world; the dead know nothing of the sleeping but that they sleep the deepest of all. Dripping, the legs were dried.
The sleeper’s eyes opened.
The corpse closed them with the coldest of fingers.
Placing the stiff scrub brush upon the nightstand the corpse was pleased with the Sleeper.
And smiled.
:: 01-15-2019 ::
