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Don't look up..
It's all around you..

Don't hold on..
it's perfect..

And when the wave comes back this way around..
I'll be wearing green again, and you'll be smiling..

This is what the word epic was for..
I found you on that plane..

And history has overdone the welcome once again..
It's a parade for a baby step..

I know I have to stay away..
but you will do the same..

The back and forth, again it's not a positive possibility...
The apple a day is not enough if its polluted...

But if we sail away on a communal pilgrimage..
Include in the word..

And if we lift our eyes and not see clouds..
then we might figure out we are awake..

picture by kidsister on weheartit

Meeting and old fashioned girl, the old fashioned way..

in the rows that become rows and rows and rows..
and rouge.. hair..

and a set of eyes that care if you stare..

selling salvation and sin together..
and other things that are bound forever..

then there's us..
and nothing else..

.:but in the silence there is magic
..:that is sent by light and static
....:begin to space the incomplete dream

so now you have a template..
and there is someone on the line:..

a tree, a finger and a Judas:..

not enough to persuade or dissuade anymore..

need more and different angels and conditions..
because it became so easy, that the original intention faded..


......: pierce and pull and tighten::...
it's time to mend --.
...:heal.


photo by JoeBot Flix

The walls between lapses.

React or be reenacted forever as not too bright or cleaver..
but just as a pause between ruse and fruitful en devour..

oh devour the hour, but taste he kill until the gray turns blue and real..

this is not about a river of mistakes..
it's about a pillow..

talk talk talk talker..

take a walk..

how to build a room in an earthquake..
how to survive a structure fire on the last floor..
direct fire to the swarm of locusts that this creates...

now is the definitive..the
essence of the derivative..

beast I come from thee..
beast this is your region .
beast this is your season...

I will cross but will not hesitate.
I will seek the final answer..
limits brought, and used for casualties..
the rest is up to wounded knees..


drawing by Kevin Patrick McCalla

Spells.

Bring on to many the rise of the total and territorial blessing
separated by wires and razor..

And I fall by the waysides..

doomed to be doomed..

Bring is the verb the nonsense seeks to flatten the vowel
your are reminded and nasal..

No longer dizzy in he same way..
No new reason to get away..

the same ones do..

Now is anxiety, now is extended..
now is a limit that never has ended..

Three times a day on every third dawn..
drain the poison of the ember flower..

Knife open, left on right..
on this night, on the witching hour..

To you placing a flower for Venus..
standing naked on the window..

I take, like you take..
this is my will..



Painting by Dante Gabriel Rossetti

This Belief.

Couture of torture endure the mortar in the pellet blessing..
Innocent beings bloom in rhythmic doom..
Prize position next to the exit wound..
hide the crown we made while we were still undressing..

Justified, the motion implied..
tell the tale..
earn the lions share..

Then we go back through the painted black..
the instant the instinct becomes urge..
when it's hard to swallow..
but it's all that you can do..

I've supplied a plain view..
I've recovered from foreign regret..
I've seen the sun and beyond..
I've been hit by light, sound and vibration..

all in tune with the minuscule affirmation..
all in tune with the meaning of life for a second..
but the third never comes..
and I'm left in the sand..
with the moon in my hands..

Paper match

If you've seen me in this scene, then why are we staling..
thru and throughout, it's a session..
that we needed for admission of defeat..
to solidify the perdition and the elevated conjuring of essence,
this bitter ambivalent presence...




That smile and matching sun glass glare..
the empty manipulative stare that I no longer wish to posses..
the prophet swings on vines of vinyl..
and locks the room with his personal key...

Animinated, smiles abound and kill the jaded..
you feel elated, in a haze develop scenes for the persuaded..
by the foreward thinking integrated..
from the bird nest aim to shoot the elevated..

Prime numbers around the room..
they jump without rites or consequence..
and in the ultimate outcome and gloom..
they become golden when placed in perfect sequence..

The wind leaves..

This is dismal,
volatile, pathetic,
until you are tricked into becoming integrated..

Dark circles under heavy eyes..
pure promise too far away to be real..
the size fluctuates..
in there and there in lies the appeal..

Lies, lie next to each other..
circle the mother for leverage..
done with tainted kindness, ..

establish..

the insolence and the
- isolation.. -
the distances made by looking away to the comfort of frustration..
meeting repeated one too many times..

..But not enough to realize, that we live in circles and cycles, always trying to get away from each other, complaint and retribution, pilgrimage to a humble solution, breathe the canvas in through pores, my eyes don't work like that, can I use yours?, proof is not needed, but it still closes doors, standing an inch away from where I was before..