I like my fetus smelling like a god today...by the way... you forgot to tell me that all will be lost an well. Your fortune has chosen your angel in your name...All Jesus says will never be the same...And Me and my ego the other day left for hell. But glad you came.
A rolling rock tumbles into my lap. The grass grow green an long... Gentle giant pollen spores remind me, as on soldier's shoulder they tap.
But to me these dreams could never lie...but always be wrong.
A name a name used for fame. Lost in time, a face could just as easily represent an entire race...But god we hope that we are not the same case...tell me your name...for your spilled blood I ll take the blame if only it eases your pain...slow the tears from your fearing eyes. Take away your telling lies.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Diligent mercy sent
Paper rolls clamped to literal scrolls...
Papyrus wrote clammy messages told
Mind bended and lent for faith to hold... a mold. a mold. a mold.
Clay shaped sculptures and formed,
morphed and stormed with ideal hands pressing in the holes.
Black droplets sail through stormy clouds,
raining the sane down veiny lanes
pouring into the couplets of our viewing eyes
Passing by surprise I find the mental note along a wall.
where parcel clings to the stall; so to the moving tide of my mind.
to find the sign plainly written to this stall...
Pissing away all the dreams down in a golden stream.
of all seemingly seam.
Straight the line along curried mill draining the ever still
draining all living will.
Then I leave.
And yet here I stand in om these prickly trees...
A dim night brighten by full moons light...
clouds wave in starry sea.
I found my self looking at purple mountains bigger then me even million miles away.
Mountains dust in morning dew that reflected gazing rays.
In those solar haze, I found myself looking for night again.
there under my sinning skin find a pool that is place upon a stool...in a room.
the room mends its bend no better then a tree shifting with the moon.
Better yet better then a stone throne in a glass home.
But before slipping out from this bark I must remark.
I found me when looking from that tree into worldly seas of the pool.
My face watched on onward an upward to these tired eyes
an said without a word.
goodbye
in god's eye.
Papyrus wrote clammy messages told
Mind bended and lent for faith to hold... a mold. a mold. a mold.
Clay shaped sculptures and formed,
morphed and stormed with ideal hands pressing in the holes.
Black droplets sail through stormy clouds,
raining the sane down veiny lanes
pouring into the couplets of our viewing eyes
Passing by surprise I find the mental note along a wall.
where parcel clings to the stall; so to the moving tide of my mind.
to find the sign plainly written to this stall...
Pissing away all the dreams down in a golden stream.
of all seemingly seam.
Straight the line along curried mill draining the ever still
draining all living will.
Then I leave.
And yet here I stand in om these prickly trees...
A dim night brighten by full moons light...
clouds wave in starry sea.
I found my self looking at purple mountains bigger then me even million miles away.
Mountains dust in morning dew that reflected gazing rays.
In those solar haze, I found myself looking for night again.
there under my sinning skin find a pool that is place upon a stool...in a room.
the room mends its bend no better then a tree shifting with the moon.
Better yet better then a stone throne in a glass home.
But before slipping out from this bark I must remark.
I found me when looking from that tree into worldly seas of the pool.
My face watched on onward an upward to these tired eyes
an said without a word.
goodbye
in god's eye.
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