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Are These Woods Lincoln Logs

a million and one trails to walk between a million and one pathways, there are two roads


beneath a summer skylit scene crossing vertically all things bring in the light all things in


side the mind find I somewhere settling into time wrought from nothingness with two or


a thousand more hands lift the surface of the face of the mirror spinning the ice laid pond


like a plate at the circus made for the place it was then left it at the second thought and


for a formal introduction just a decade of instructions on how to build the ship wright how


to fasten the knots tied fourth time in the third realm of inconsistent eyelids shift and drone


forest throne chained to the stone remember then there the place where it is remember that


all things moving emptiness creates lovely trees visions masterpiece caught by hands for


sand drifted through all things floating menacing first the bell rings and from the ground lifts


stone by stone out of the blood splattered ground temple round stacked like cards shift


control toward clouds moving past moving passed movement the last symphony was letter


lost to the abyss was it emptiness or was it nothingness was it darkness that gives in was it


that evil bends to the will of men or does nature so to be have shown men forward lead


upon blank sheet paper just torn from the book of theives planning against the dawning


of the light outside the mouth of a forbidden cave deeply hidden in the forestry each tree


grown by hand spiral twist out the twirling fans for eyelids just barely beginning to be open


sesame and as each light beam hits to reflect coloured golden opulence diamonds refract


splinter out the fractalling masses splitting up to find what it is within that has been so to be


lost again to the thrown hand lifted by dove wings with a lettre between the fingertips of a


skeleton hand burning away the miserable forgotten bliss what it was was what it is never


more a revealing trickery never once a devil did believe wrought each stone from a mountain


each mountain's face being erased by what then and where by whom and for time's falling


sand in the realm of calculations deep within the archives inside the library built through


impossible dimensions what was it to this place what was it that was once here again and


one stone lifts to fall and be placed upon one stone fallen that was once lifted and again


cemented inn dimensions of the mind of the spiritual mass times length going for distance


into nothingness nothing more than the abyss of vast emptiness in the realms each eye yes


another light shines, each light shining, yes, another mind within an eye and from each eye


one source of infinite complexity one candle flame sparks the match oft the table leg, yes


it does get away from me it does and wherefore do it go then wherefore wast the blood


spilt on the ancient burial ground before the towered foundation laid before the land was


green was it ever a dead thing wast it ever to be more alive than mind's thoughtless thinking


mind's thinking thoughtless alignment with all things receding into distances falling away


falling into something like rain falls of the honest man's called off work day hours spent at


what for whom and it seems I couldn't catch a break if i wanted two if I thought for a second


all things known to be all things drifting menergrie like petals plucked oft the rose stem for


thorns like building a den out of a home of spiders and succumb to their will the power of


death finds lingering hands to thread silky spider webs to catch the jumping feet of rabbits


whom too quickly find themselves behind trees late for the date art we old boy art we again


where in the hallways gallery each painted diamond brought to a graveyard and placed into


a coffin carved from an anceint tree fallen from the lightning bolt the door where we are


going no man hast ever been to before yet find how is it that it could be built without many


hands knotted up in the strands of frayed rope slaves of the desert taste the fresh wind


up, up you faithfully destrought simpleton up the stairway through the garden far from the


palace of the child king far away a labryinth hast been waiting for spring to allow thee thy


entrance in for what could it be less than a mystery far less a maze for the mind to bleed out


through the tunnels of madnesses drought licking up the lips of sun burned kisses skeleton


men collapse the forest of bones the book of skulls and within the black nothingness of


empty minds wherefore was once to each adorned a diamond all has been so lost all to the


common play of a flute's song, sings itself it does, all to the honest gypsy jig clicking heels


to a bitter dusk of a dying lightless flame all a trick of the hand passed a second past and


time's been dwindling ever so the meridian dancing along the chain of the necklace to reach


a clasp in each frame what once was a face just paint dripping drooling at the salivating idea


mindlessly the dawn rises beneath the damsels dress nothing but foot prints left of the last


grand masquerade every move reads a story of blasphemy grandest display of death defying


menagrey so thou hast arrived just in time and each stone falling crushes one skull longingly


looking at what was once alive yet somewhere safe in the basket of the begger each one


every diamond caught as a tear oft the cheek of the mistresses best couldst go on darling go


down deeper into the hallways glow wherefore wast thou just a moment ago wherefore art


we going, I don't know, I never have once before and before when just a moment ago who I


once was we will never disclose we will read again what was left in the envelope nor what


enlightenment it is you seek illumination in the den of theives round the corner of the cave


playful at the secret hidden by the catch turn the mechanism and is it far past the hour then


who has the time to listen to the song of the begger, not one, who shall, choose againe dear


baskets three divided belief and between them moving serpentine what wast it again darling


better nought than bested turning a revelation for floating sentences like string wrapping up


the corpses up to their eyelids blinking and within the spiders mind what is it thou dost see


turning the hourglass again lifted sand falls beneath a pyramid of light encapsulated within


darkness all painted portraits of the hallways gallery mirror shined white glistening eyes of


the mistresses all a diamond was is all a diamond could be and in every portrait the eyes of


the mistresses bleed it is the red of the den in the caves of the spiders that we use to write


the speech of the serpents skulls it is the red of the glass poured for the time spent in the


well then dost it rise the sun for thee dost it light the wick of the gypsy, you see, this candle


once bought from a begger man sitting cross legged on a lotus in the desert sand drifting by


and by or my apology that isn't right no floating in the garden then back against the wall


climbing down a rope the begger man in beggers rags carries a thatched basket beneath


his arm and a flute tucked into his bloody belt I'd say who is writing this goddamn story any


way we could hear but a bit of the olden song dear boy at the touch of the feet to the sand


laid desert the paradise behind the mind the mind behind the eyes the eyes behind the


white mask in the mirror, you laugh, so dramatic, what is it thou wanted again what is it the


offended hand touches the doorway the doorframe alights the entrance to the room lost


behind fire that burns within irises and two candles one at each end of the table made and


set far against the wall beneath the windows and what is it that you think you are doing here


talking to himself the child king arms swinging legs kicking fighting another shadow as the


candles are blown out exploding for the remembrances of the light like a dream the opening


scene before the lead enter onto the stage a speak to us the soliloque of the dawn compass


wrong how could it be just a moment ago it was pointed straight through the massacre one


more stone lifted and placed atop one more stone set in time one more step in the desert


sand one more movement of the ensemble before the dance ends before we have danced


we have danced o how we shall dance the gypsy prince plotting again thicker than theives


I think nought of what it is nor what it could be, I thought once only of what is it to be I think


and in thinking find thyself a crushed skull for dust blown for a light once bleeding through


the diamond crystal floating to the tune of the beggers flute each note like glass shatters



all is nought to be found again wherefore art thou dear floating hand falling deeper into the


pit of despair twas just a glance just a momentary happening standing with thee in the mirror


once glowing wast thou complexities once fire wast there in thy eyes, lies, hideous monster


where hast it become so a pity to be so lonesome of the cold within the missing brightness


of what was once a ball, o my children, at the table the leg again tapping away for the sugar


cane just dropping the tongue for paint and unto the brush what was it, twas a portrait, my


my my my moreso alive ever for the taste of a sweet morsal longingingly searching for the


mortal demise of a crooked theif you you enemy of the cave who is it that stands here today


in front of the eyes flames into each eye floating golden scripture of the liquid light of fate


you devilry you damned demon you dog you whom thought for a moment you could by I


know by my honest hand you could nought leave if you tried, mistress eyes of the diamond


in *-/ the hand lifted beneath the skirt ah what was it made for if not to be a pleasure thing


more passionate than dramatic the ending somewhere written beneath a falling tree to um


summoning the lightning that night then for the applause I'll wait till it rains again just like it


did back then, just once more, just for the name just for a hand print left acrost the face just


a moment darling and the chains rise from the desert sand and clasps the wrists and also


yes the anklets held within the hand of the master, the flute, and given to the begger traded


in just for a gold coin then, flipped, the sand hast run from the hands spinning, of the sand


turning hours into days and days into night again, darling open the shades, please, allow


was within nothing more and nothing less than the strongest poison collected from the dead


this thyself, allow thee to let the dark within ignite the black flame of the hollow candle what


tears of a thousand black widows. Nothing more and nothing less than one grain of sand


collected once every year from the desert of sin, to the hour then, and never leave a second


of it to fate, for fate is a fickle handed floating thing frightened at the congregated masses


shocking it is the light striking the diamond within the eyes caught suspended in the fourth


realm what is the fifth dimension and wherefore does it stem, roses again, coming up death


coughing, there it is, that chained to me that mystery bleeding through and through all and


everything stops twas just a dream such a dramatist such a blade swinging for the royal plan


arched again the covenant written in blood, few men, fewer eyes in the mind of all that rise


like the first time you ever see love, have you ever in your life known exactly what it is, life


cities laid to waste at the significance of feline prowess, none the less and ever more so


the amount of death tolled the bell more than the living is it to be felled the first tree falls


in the forest of crushed skulls white sands to the hour then caught in a dream forever with


thee unbeknownest by the cave far down stream all things floating disappear emptiness


engulfed with the fires of aires brought in The Temple like water of the clearest rainfall from


clouds whom just opened for the sky and, seeing for the first time, what it is you've known


all along yet somewhere there, I found it again, not only does she remember all of time yet


she remembers being dead, what blasphemy, spoken from words that speak a serpentine


language of blood dripping from fangs melody floating through the dimensions of destiny



and oft running took the vial of poison from the lightless flame bleedining blackness into


widening brains mindless at the thought of darknesses escape from the diamond crushed


in one of the baskets three biting the gold coin the begger laughs watching himself pass


waiting in time watching space rewind before the show begin the mind was found deep in


a cave with ancient slaves of the theives for the dance of music made what couldst thou


know of it what couldst thou believe found wanting at the touch of the mirrored reflection


follow none so couldst be thou to believe thou hast found the entrance torched and wanting


thou none so much a mortal word none couldst want to see into the mind of what could be


that could be that and the darkest emptiness means nothing to the most hidden hand some


where in the desert sand burying the mindless thought that all is in the palm of which one


circling circles round the arms in flailing revolutions the legs in step with feet for nooses and


holding up the conch shell listening to the vast expanse of nothingness just to remember the


wind at the precipice that tasted like a feeling like a feeling that felt inside a mind lost deep


what is it about time wherefore the ending is exactly and once beginning twas torn the page


of the book like dove wings off the spine for dates ancient belief where art we again some


foreign land where the song lifts the lotuses and with the hidden hand, cuts the stem spread


them those wings have you made them from the candles weeping light hand you built them


with broken psalms bleeding from the glass, of tongues, drifting into nothingness speaking


impossible riddling things veiled as mysterious guest of the hallways unending pleasure, for


a hand then, for a round tower built one stone at a time collected from the mountain of an


ancient paradigm like parallel lines drawn and climbed unto the highest imaginary land see


lend me a hand tied tight to wings of dead things for a message from the garden of just one


more name lost to the wayside one more night falls away to the dawns light one more life


thrown to the dogs in the trenches for bones one more knife sharpened by the wheel turned



Once upon a time, a dream entered into the mind of all things living with eyes like diamonds


shined the light through the temples glare from the candle light at the centre of existence


do you see where it is then that darkness round the flame haloed like a golden relique, like


holy ghosts found wanting at the fountain for a reflection for a skipping stone skips across


the surface yet fall it does when the momentum halts the ongoing slaughter of the miserly


sense fields once thought to be exploded by the conscious acceptance of what it is we live


everyday to the minute then and the hour hand and the passing moments of nothingness


hardly ever attached like the spine ripped from the hull of the ship before the waves crashed


before the bottle was finished top it off again before the chains rattled like snakes tails at


the aching body withering atop the stone like flower petals torn and thrown for to make


pretty pictures with as the wind settles it as the blood starts dropping from the frames of


the paintings onto the hardwood floors, it has been a time then hasnt it, it has aged well


this worn in neck hanging at the opposite end of the hallways turn for where we art now


no one knows on each wall few mirrors hang between torch lit portraits of the poets, none


more a set, no more a mortal step within the cave of theives then thee shall find thyself


a victim of the beggers song, each note rings out like a demon screaming into nights


sphere spinning like madnesses lost in the diamonds reflecting light caught between the


earsand deep behind the eyes captivated at the lightless flame flickering away at all things


colourful play like jewels in one of the baskets three switched before the foot was laid and


closed again, call it a mirage, call it a dream, call it what you will for what you will is not so


unknown to be voiceless at the silent mercy of greater minds with empty eyes that lead to


places no man hast lived to see no tongue has told the tale of theives written by immortal


whisperings wicker the basket carried on the shoulder of the begger armed for a rope swing


wherefore all things drop within the mind carried past the break of exsistence into itself to


wish for release pendeluum still motionless before the mechanism kicks in the contraption


from the button pressed beneath the compass sitting on the desk of the child king long


it was I have been waiting to speak long it has been since a word has been spoken for me


long has the tree grown crooked through the soul in spiritual torment just laughing away


at the white mask in the mirror staring into the flame spoken for at the centre of all things


nothing against black setting the curtains lift the dance begins the orchestrae of strings


all motioning at the spider legs controlling the arms of the coiled guests in the pit of one


vicious snake dripping fangs posoinous ideology masking the belief that all for one and


for whom and who so told them to and why then and what for and for what is it that thou


hast entered here come closer to me my dear, my dear, what is it that we do not know and


why is it that we do not care, speak mortal being into the ears of drifting sand like a mirage


in the desert of sin once was a man standing in the hallways glow the light finds a home in



mindless dawn forsaken light what more couldst thou have behind thine eyes another night


another goodbye just one more time my dear, please, for me bask in the lucidity of the on -


slaughter of the nothingness at the vast expanse of life for the dance we play and in paying


due dost playful things arise for you inside the mind behind the eyes dripping from the lips


just a kiss twas it just a moment just for the sake of it against the wall pressed original sleeve


rehearsed for days the soliloque that rises the dead theives like corpses from a grave made


maliciously dug on a most bitter day the weather so horrible cold frigid to the devil's bones


dancing at the menacing laugh laughing to the dusk's falling light held by the hand of the


gypsy king follow me shall thee follow thee the light of ancient days iron wrought time it


was but a chain entangling all things to the stone once brought to the temple dost it hurt


does it sing for me dost the heart ache at the last dying touch of life somewhere within thee


far too deep I bet and further gone than basking in one of the baskets three mindlessly it


escapes me get away from me the begger man back against the nothingness mind not what


it is behind these castled walls think nought of what was once within barely a thought it twas


a promising memory a drifting deja vu a double exposed double take from projected film


upon the slave of the garden with muddy boots, twas just a just a just the expression of a


long lost friend the idea of a connection the concept of introspection that flows outward like


a fountain back you wicked fiend, back you dancing devilry, dance into the night of death


dance at the edge of the precipose at the vast expanse of nothingness that you learn quick


the dagger flips one rotation in slow motion to find eyelids opening in the realm of all seeing


eyes, thank you, goodnight, one more time, one more day unto the light one more rising fall


to crash one more falling leaf to catch one more raindrop that splashed upon the leaf before


the weight was far too heavy and it fell, it did, one time back then the rain falling in front of


the face suspended at the scene twas just a magicians lingering presence walking past the


corner of a street what more couldst thou ask of me what more hideous mask than the white


mask inheritance looking in the mirror of hours for sand looking past the wanted unto the


desirable end burning both wicks for the drip drop it then far down the hallways glow there


is a light at the end of the tunnel but it is the light that creates the shadows that play whom


holds the light in you who bleeds the dawn of the setting sun who shall crack the mystery of


the sky and whom holds nought behind the eyes that create the light holding all within a a a


a diamond spins atop the compass placed on top of the hour glass, steady at the romance


of the most exotic stage mirrored for the light to play with the shadows display like too far


into the hallways glow far past the garden then to the meadow of enchantment once there


was a forest hear hear once the trees rang out like tears wrung from the rags of the begger


before tea was had beneath the vines dripping maddnesses within a drop for a splash and


then it begins to rain the applauding audience caught feet in graves just sinking quickly in


the desert sand all was once a graveyard all for once was a captivating dance of playful eyes


spiders rise at the beckoning call of the aethyr written lonng long ago on an deserted island


before the mind set in before the eyelids opening they were closed back then back then it


was just an idea was it how could we ever tell the difference then you see how it gets away


from me forgetful thing am I forging artworks by my masters design for two hands tied with


rope behind the back and a thousand more just waiting in the distance of a shimmering lay


lays like a mirage along the, playful thing, behind the canopy just shadows then just mindless


it twas just a mistake of the memory drifitng away like french damsels laughing lightly in the


past of drinks spilled for the path laid in the grass back then waving away the entirety of a


month for getting lost wast there no one there to be found then just memories of a motion


just a conversation about an idea that could be how to reveal what it is to whom it was and


moreso than that to repeat oft again better then no better man no mortal couldst begin to


comprehend the dashing play of theivery serious so engulfed in the fires of a lucid history


one couldst begin to burn an inextinguishable flame carried far beyond ancient day one


and two and three baskets sit at the foot of the beggers feet two hands tied behind the


back, for stealing, what was once there in the temple it twas, i swear, was once the same


as I open eyes glaring minds frothing mouths of the barking tongues far too twisted up


it twas just a rope dangling at the edge just a spiraling unforeseen consequence, these


forgetful guardians whom, stepping in time with mindless rhythm, couldst hardly speak


clearly enough the rhyme of the child prince just lost all to the beggers flute then lifted


hands a thousand to one who could have known where we would be unto now barely


the song has begun and, it all falls away, drifting landscapes of the eyeless blind, dark


it is the forest of death, each tree stands as if it sways, each rope hangs as if somewhere


within there deep, there is a weight to the catch at the precipice before the entrance of


the cave opens it must be found that secret flair for stars exploding sparks of misdirection


follow the gypsy king into the home of theives follow then the child prince unto the heap


falling leaves from withering trees at the cold from winds hollow heart, couldst almost


could almost believe for a second then the soul has met the daggers artful throw through


the aires in dimensional spiral seek not the cave seek not the dungeon where the monk


lays seek not the answers to the questions, what it was that was stolen cannot be given


back, what it is that is spoken cannot be retreated, cannot be, it cant, and I wouldnt for


a moment then trust a captive audience whom knows not the way whom knows nought


the playful words speaking for thee just dying for a taste of the complexities that see the


open eyes staring back into the mirror black lifting mirages like incense, levitation, the


begger laughs, mastered it, far beyond that ancient past, way back then before time was


spent the hourglass empties the last grain of sand hits the pyramid and all within the


mind collapses, twas just a dream of the gypsy prince, twas just the thought of the child


king, couldst nought take me from my grave, could thou only be finding the white mask


beneath the flowery bed growing between the empty mass of eyes like a suicide like a


sacrifice the rain falls from the dark clouds bellowing in to await the arrival of the mistress



whom is it that speaks here toady, speak begger, the guardsmen say, slandering the good


name of the hidden theif wrapped in beggers cloth rags depply hiding the stolen diamond


it was but a mystery of better man written for a begger day better than a beggers leg bled


for the hideous dance a soar and a dip and a kick the spurs into the horse that faithful snow


man lost again in the winters freeze dropping the scene like a bad habit that walking thing


it twas over lost mountains for to collect desert sand looking for the red of the sun rising


against the duskless dawn for the dawnless moonrise of the glowing sunlight at the end of


the hallways turn, I told you darling, please, the window shades, how art we to play at the


timeless game of ancient divinity if, the light hits the shining glass and reflecting off all and


every crystal set for the moment of concocted madnesses of the liquid touch of rainbows


spilling their colourful guts over love */ I swear to god this is Elsa's favorite game everytime


i get something going she cuts in shaping the diamond sharpening her claws upon the


light fixed above the pyramid for as I am walking through the forest of death, enchanted


laughing at the nothingness again for just how beautiful life could be for just a breath then




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