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. . . v o i . . . .

C a t a p h i l e

the wall
the ceiling
the floor

our lives are a moult

close your mind
to time
history is an essence
like sunshine
and perfume

this echo
held in your heart
like a scribe tool
the keylatch
sound wave

press on fool

feelings immersed
drenched down
walls
the summer rains
turned to rusting
autumn
tumbling
the naked expression
of wind shorn limbs

Auburn

Et to Sam?

Flags half-massed fly
While they lie at your feet,
Sixty wounds from serpant tongues,
The senators deciet.
Subliminaly, brought to believe,
That this is for the better,
It'll save the weak.
But nothing changes, the lamen's still the lamen,
The sufferer suffers on while the kings are granted caviar.
The chain goes on, the messiah speaks,
Tell us what is real and how we should think,
The weak are given God, so the rich can write the law
Then they cry HEATHEN to take claim of the earth.

MISTY EYES

call me poison
i am annoying
because in speak fact that some will not be enjoying
mother nature has become profit
uncle wallet is thinking nothing of it
that is why natural disasters
are not willing to forefit
grass will forever be greener on the other end
call me a locked up prophet
my words damage and slaughter
they let you see horror and trauma
we battle to find peace within us
i might just
bribe an official
to recieve a wonderful Merry Christmas
because he is a uniformed criminal

Primrose Skyway

enticing primrose sky
shall today be the day I die
certainly not the day after tomorrow
that's my day off
and tomorrow is Sunday
I don't want to die on a Sunday
too many persnickety busybodies
flittering fresh from sweltering pews
so today is a good day
well. maybe later this evening
the primrosey sky is still too beautiful

Did I Not Try Hard Enough?

When it rains, it pours,
Here in the land of honey streets.

In the begining, ours was a house of chocolate walls.
The tap sprang sweet wine to go with our dinner
Of delicate delight.
We were young then,
and you know what they say,
When it rains, it pours.

ÇAÇÔ, Man of the Morning Star P. 2, Canto One

Canto One

Upon the fringe of raw domain,
the suns rise as an Angel Host
ascends beyond the level plane.
Their advent from the nethermost
illuminates the flat and vacant World. 5

A multitude, they are the mind
of Joss and thence the all they shape
was hitherto but Joss defined.
In concert thus, this virgin scape
could nothing be but His caprice unfurled. 10

what the heck!

you must remain an entity,
oh what a pity
even God needs an identity,
If only we could mastermind our arrival
what time and day
would you or any one chose
may I ask of you?

We all ply about in veiled masks
in search of ...
rest I will compose
when other poets
do in me their faith impose,
let them feel the burdens of life
till will still,
remain one long strife

Are We Crackers

Are We Crackers

Is our earth really in trouble or just
cracked up the middle, people starve
in Rome now without so much as a
squealing fiddle,
We invented money but can’t
spend what we got, had an honest
singer once but he went and got shot.

We never chase the rich for the
money that they owe, seems they
always have lawyers now, to look
after their dough.

His Story of a Fish Tale

Alone, I found myself with kids all grown
so I guess fate had given the nod,
there was nothing at all hindering me
so I decided to sail abroad.

I'd always yearned to see Europe
it appeared I'd been granted my wish,
so I traveled through England and Scotland, too
where I was also allowed to go fish!

When I returned I met with my daughter
for some ale, and a three foot-long sub;
I wanted to share of my journey
so we went to our favorite "pub".

S l a v a c i o u s ..

pole stare
gather at the fire

I am mercurial in regards
of the mirages

slurry juice sluice

splashs out
the gashs
open mouth

the hunger shoes
fall one by one
the fingers grip

the long brunette
cascade
spillway
rush

rush on

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