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Reflections of The Hour

once in the stream of life the ever dwindling time span of things to arrive


forever basking lucidity what wast thou so to be and was thou so unruly


longing for answers written in star thrown sand spiraling circles then to land


in the garden of enchantment where this quest began hanging from a

branch, a can, and walking through the forest lay, through the wooded


what were we talking about then what were we ever talking about it all


seemed so everyday and everyday further away from then into now seems


magical seems introspective seems retrograde to think planets moving


matter make waves in this lonely place and drown out the ever crying face


whom knowest not the way whom knowest nought to play whom knowest


and thou dost know though I question all things I know what I saw, sharpened


blade, miscreate, and in miscreating, levitate, fly away, fall towards something


concrete with meaning or, find thyself in a better mans bitter evening prayers


walking dead roads of death, i wouldn't have a better second guess, spinning


hands, seconds past a second passed minutes dwindle and rack time upon


the studded interpose, vicious envelope, empty of morse-code, spilling from


the black page black blood invoked black minded black eyes see nothing in


the light see nothing more to fear than the wrath of the dead man's two-carded


hand, hold no peace my heart does for thee, nor for peace does my heart beat


silence does my mind entreat, true love's honest epiphany, to speak like a song


does sing, to be in tune with thee, find thyself a winter's fleece beneath the moon


light the wick in shadowed corners of thy most hidden mind and find, nevermore


true, words say a lot but it is the touch that speaks in tongues, it is the love of


listening, and listening is the love of all of time beguiled, he smiles, and knows


not a bitter clock-struck bell toll, hell-hole, everlong the day rolls on, hideous is


the mask of chaos, warp the mind it does to fall, and in which direction, second


guessing, there is no questioning the present, and there is no more than time


no time to waste in the desert landscape, every night is a fight for life in the dream


every dream is a conversation surrounding a slave, and who plays the slave tonight


no slave plays in the garden darlin', slaves hang from the tree of life, and yet still


in which accursed sphere, have you learned your colours dear, and in which path


you walk, and hot it is in hell, burns hotter, melts at the touch it does the one, that


ever leading on and on and on, a symphony of doves, bled white the hands for red


painted mask in the dance of death, dancing round the mistletoe, laughing with


the devil, but the devil never laughs for long, and the devil never plays, thats wrong


right it is the devil's trip the devils skip the record writ in black blood flowing forward


to empty hands, more full the empty promises, more so the empty eyelids of the skull


strung on the web, end to end connected between the branches of the tree, and which


is which in the garden of enchantment, have you been there, have you seen your face


have you seen your paradigm that your thoughts create, have you led the death by


the hand to where your heart is buried, marked so there with a nameless grave, where


the tree has fallen, where the slave was hanged, and over night it is and twas that the tree


fell from the storm, walked the trail twice headlong and lost myself in mirrored reflections


til finding then the place I was just there the dusk before, asleep under the tree i rest as


the spirit then found the etched name in sigiled impress just a moment it was just a night


a dream just a life it was passing like a leaf floats downstream beneath the bridge beyond


the vision of judgement ever weighing the heavy heart on the scales of the serpent kind


ever balanced act of thieves to find thyself with I, sitting pretty in suicide, round the form


the beings stalk, and like the ice laid temple of God, never breaking concentration for a


second, listen up, lost in love shall we, take me be the hand then and never look back and


we shall walk in fire, as God walks with us, and through the desert daring to be so seen, eyes


in focus falling from unsuspecting light beams, just, exploding from the being, just, pouring


from the lips quiver, a violent need for recognition and a jealous heart non-existent break


love, break, and as I give myself to thee, shall thyself be given, in freedom do we proudly


stand to sound off bells and firing guns, whistling fireworks spinning, web spun, strung out


realities worst guest list bummed out with our thumbs out with our feet a'swiggin straight


from the bottles mouth to mouth breathing in and out the stench of breath from tobacco


smoke and the itch barely scratched from the beer, and when we get to the good part then


yes then we'll know, wicked hearts love to be wicked with candle-lighted feasts, forever


just a second away from knowing anything is really happening, outside is devilishly far away


wherefore art thou, mindless, escape, mark the date with an eight eight, but i still couldnt


read it if i tried, there are two ways in the forestry and goddamn when the sun is shining


the light, it lifts the being like angelic choruses rise demon wings to take writing poetry


one there was a man there, who shared his tale with me, one sitting on the stairway then


who glass he gave to eat, and left him there I did for a somewhere we had to be, and the


story he told me of the war afterwards goes something like this, cut feet, broken cheekbone


standing at the door of life naked because he was so told, and up to the roof he goes, and


sitting on the edge of death, thinking of the possibilities, knew at once he could not fly but


if he was there, right then there, so told the olden tale so the story goes and it goes and it


goes then like that sometimes, and sometimes one eye gets lucky, and sometimes we dance


the blood mucky, and sometimes there is light in the darkness from stars ever so far out in


distances glow, somewhere out there in space in another world, another girl, another face


another date another day another night another life another chance just one more written


observation about walking into the nothingness and over the precipice the hand is held and


in the hand nothing, nothing felt, nothing more than wind, moving it is, and forever to be


something to think about, something sometimes i dont know if anything anyone tells me


is the truth and so i work with what i've got, time and stacks of books that read like thoughts


and when the thoughts they drift on, I think about what it was and i think about what it is


and i dont question what i'm told, and i don't like liars, and i know what i have seen and


what i've seen i believe and anyway whats the point in trying to pretend it isnt exactly and


then it lands and then the desert sand falls again at sunset rises in the morning to spring


january sounds lovely to me, evermore excited for the holidays and the falling leaves


as the weather becomes more forgiving, I am thankful for the hell of it all, and i am bitter


at the thought, and when my cat sleeps he is so cute, and we've got them back to balance


again just in case you were wondering, it was a shit show for a minute or so but then


things tend to be that way now and again and it isnt anything you did specifically, actually


thats exactly what it is and there is no escaping, just imagine it is your own mind speaking


to you and it's alot easier to accept, but just know, that's offensive to God and goddamn


I'm looking thin, more hairs on the chinny chin chin, don't judge me when we meet at the


end of time and the beginning of forever with thee, it's been a season and then some


more it's been a whirlwind of a lasting flight, and the reason why I forgot my name is


because, into the sun I direct my vision, floating on the other side of a torturous mind

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