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Dragon Cuffa

cup'o'coffee in the morning, three stones at each end over end, back to the begrinning


the sigil of a friend, was it, the second of the first or the first of the second, ever-present


questions, and like i said, all in on smiling faces, makes me happenstance, make me amen


better yet, promises written in afterthought, waking up to a dream seeping in through the


seams of a dream-like insect infested reality, the pieces rearrange, what is a game, what is


the two seperete hands clap, in time with in tune with in spring with in step with a dances


remembrances of a bitter last, first within the paradigm, somewhere in the middle, opening


in the morning time to a dream, and what a reality we made through conversation, knot a


word, ever again twisting through sleep like sleep through twisted coiling again, ever a


tortorous revelry, dripping from the tongue of sleep, death and me, wherefore art thou is to


be, and when it hits, one hand empty, without the fullness of a life it seems, that o, so many


in the eyes behind the mind, so satisfied, so self-reliant k, I can hardly look behind the curtain


these days, but yet still so, enthusiastically addicted to this, ever-pervasive confessional, dash


dash, dot dot dot, profuse lit sparkling fire dwindlin' just waiting for the big bang to explode


at each cornered end, at every point again, a stone, and at every complex sentence a gate


and for whom it is whom waits, and when we get there what shall be then, is there a we, my


friends? dead laugh stock footage, if i could only remember the other title before i started


writing and like a leaf drifts by down the stream a leaf falls from the tree like rainfalls to fill


oceans of endeavour, like dewdrops fall from the stem back to the floor of the temple slain


like blood of the knife blade, puddling, like sitting cross legged, like thinking thoughts about


thinking thoughts about thinking about thoughts thinking how, it was the other sigil, just the


one yesterday, it burnt up in a pair of gloved hands to the minute, ax-laid plans to the best


of men, I still couldn't, nor could I, and what better words to speak than join the party, I'll


think of them someday, some, poetry, some better words to rhyme with free, some observe


some partake, some parlay, some verb, some noun, some ever-prevelant goodness of what


creation takes time and space collapses into dust reprise, crushed the flower inside the palm


frond white, crystal smitten, two steps over the ledge and one forbidden thumbprint, petals


fall and mix with ashes to ashes and yet still it remains, pressed, between the first circle and


the last page, my friend's insane, he doesn't like to be called names, who's to know anything


couldnt read it with a toothpick, black blood covered, all things melt in tune with who's woe


all things moving throw revolt, all things revolting crawl toward eyelids opening, to a dream


what dreams, to a reality, what things, all things moving arise, all things arising fall away, all


things disappearing appear againe, all tricks revealing treatises on promulgated begging


knees, words can barely speak from liquid tongues devotion, words hardly known then, and


words escaping rearranging captivating it is to see, further deadening the need, for whom


and what for, to look in eyes and see, one is one seferated, so far out in other, shadows do I


uncover within me, hateful ideology, more of a non-comm ital judgement of appearances


so far from relation, there are few a niggers hanging, I just wanted to say it so I did, take it


for what you will, noose filled, round my neck, stray far from my tree, my rope silk, my laugh


distilled, and when I find that damn tree again, I'll climb it to the heavens, and never come


down, not for no one, not for you, or them, not for friendships lovely tugging at the pantleg


SIR, you haven't set it on fire yet, the spiraling thoughts of a madman, digging a grave to


find roots of trees deep seeded regret, who's honest anyway, who's eyes bleed, who's mind


weeps, who's flower torn, under who's wing, who's reality, who's dream, who's who in the


owl's nest, some tree, some life, some blasphemy, what do you want from me, to think, and


what to think then, thoughts, and thoughts about what then, thinking again, and then what


wherefore art twee to find, some hidden gold inside, minor piece, dimes dropping, the only


time honestly, when I use change, is when I buy fast food for some reason, attitude, is a great


game, things connecting up in flames, things always remain the same, alignment of futures


past, I made it that way for a reason, I just don't know the reason yet, I'm just being playful


tied hands, tired mind, further pasts further breaks in meditation barely thoughts could word


the phrase, when do we start the great treatise and where does it take place, the way the ink


flows from the dipping pens chiseled nib, the way it shimmers, I miss the candle flame, but


as it gets darker and harder to see, the more enraged the hand writing, bleeding through


and through, spit shined table top, saving every off hand, shoot, I wouldn't know which way


to turn, lost deep in the glade, tunneling introspective blasphemy, it's easy to say, I just don't


like the look in his eyes, that's all I can say, needs more pain, who am i to say, don't know any


body, don't want to know, don't, truth, walking distances in forest lay just to be lost again to


be anywhere the mind can wander then, just to be lost again, is that what it's like to be free


the slave in the desert sand, hands tied tight with chains dragging the dead body like bones


in a grave dreaming of dreams, nowhere to go, circling the desert spiral, setting fire round


the frame, jumping through hoop earrings for a name in new orleans, bask with me in deaths


embrace, we shant, and yet shall we, o we shall, laughing at what then, nothing, you, yeah




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