top of page


how many more times will it happen, she loves it she says, and it is just the way she meant

how many more times it will happen, the breaks in the reflection of the mirrored dance twas'

just a midnight ago, just a bite of the apple hanging from the branch, metal trees grown so

different it seams tearing the mind against the teeth to be streamed, defying gravitys on

planets whirling rounds incessantly what the mind believes to fight the pull and, in breaking

once more unto the breach of the crashing waves upon the shore of reminisciences invoked

invocations of the cloak still sparkles like the laughter of clowns at the convention hall for

festivale, veiled unknowingness with a noose dressed like a necklace, twas' given from the

palm of the hand high fived just days before the street went dark, before the torches light

led happy eyes and street crossed wise men toward what, none so questioning a thing near

or far, nor does it matter the place nor the time, find eye shall be given into all madness

alike without fail without doubt of the hindrances the strength of hind legs to bend like the

will of whispering nuances hardly caught the verbose language hardly struck the face for the

mask descended hardly blown the candle oft alight upon the table made for the captivated

audiences whom, none so a meadow couldst be overgrown, through thicker theives I shant

know, never a second twas held by a better faltering hand unwavering at the thought of all

things destructive, for chaos of the riddling walk through, on three, two, and one more for

the applause like rainfall, for him & I, truly was a moment of, no greater, none to be had so

often the mind falls illusive to the traps laid by the wasted hours spent staring into the abyss

lingering amongst the falling leaves burning from the forest once called my home, spent far

too long undecided, crept through the mindless dews of a mercurial drop spreading thru &

thru all things the way falters each step crossing the self made mistakes too many to count

what shall it be then aye, to give in, unto the faith of forever asking again and again if and

evermoreso when exactly was it again, couldst almost believe in a man, a number of them

and what the soul wants is what the brain fights, bone white, grasping at the ever fleeting

nuances of consciousness devised to be broken by fear of consequence, and ever it is and

shall be, truly time tested and words meander long ways for a smiling face of someday, if

it is and wherefore unto what it is, and what it could be, everything could have been and

anything could still become someone under the moonlit scene being revealed as a traitor

to the sacred belief, do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law, hast thou walked far

away in search of just exactly it is that you need to be shown how all things in alignment

create the condemnation of the mind set on self denial, for just how much exactly it was

Recent Posts

See All

The Hourglass

Point A Needle To The Sky, Centered Minds Point A Gun To My Head, Circumstantial Ends Point A : The Diamond Sutra, Centrifical Forces Yet There Are One Thousand Arms Tied Up In The Book Of The Dead An


never was there such a hand beneath the sin play to the part of the devil's grinning twas there such a death as to it


bottom of page