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Verse XI

what hindrances wherefore art thou space star lit stage from the curtailed sleeves once


held in the palm thrown a million sands whirl round more than one can count written to


a lengthy tune noted cursive minds accursed tongues just drip the ancient love thus be


a temple of sins far past laying the foundation stone by stone collected from the banks


of the stream dug by broken hands bleeding just a little washed out by running waters


cleanse forget the place you've once stepped in and leave the way you left the same


ever as it was things as they were and remembrances dancing shoes tip top leather


abused the spine of the vintage textbook still bird soared wings spread to the knife hilt


just the way it was left then right where it was to the second hand in tune with aelolion


harp strings singing melodies in harmony with glistening hearts shining gemmed demiurge


just bursting from the coiled vines round the clustered grapes suspended from the archway


immortality:- is it just a word is this just a world is space just time removed is time just


space to prove moving it is the eyes to see the ears to hear the prophets speech tongues


dripping the ancient belief far far away and yet just a few years back taking the slack jaw


propping up from deaths stance to dragon position yoga charred brutal mind fire inside


every drop of dew suspended mid air above leaves of grass and one above each drop of


dew a drop of rain reversed to fall and hit diamonds from the oceanic stolen jewels from


rainbow hues unscrewed neon light bulbs cursive truths words written in broken glass


shines not from the sunless reflects not the moonbeams silver touch not the basket of the


begger whistling the tune, bone flute, each note arising like daylight worlds colliding and


dying thriving life abundance in hideous complexities melodic epiphanies sonic revelry


revolting throws of the golden teeth my biting coin phrase turned weapons glistening


opulance kick starting the motor and pushing the ox-cart then chariot cherry red one


grape falls from the vine of the clustered grapes suspended hanging from the archway


plucked twas it was it the frailest hand waving fans immaculate carpets to match the


open windows outside there for an instance in the court of the living just a bite it was


of the lustrous illustrative technique to define spaces time far removed spaceless and


ever present the longer sutra realities escaping dreams dreams of realities deeply set


trenches far deeper the grave far more real than fantasy further more fantasy than dream


what does time mean to a second a minute an hour then towards a sunset somewhere


rising from beneath the waters face how long have I been here this time beneath held


breath one more batch of air to breathe I was just there for a moment it seems just


initially there was an idea of what could be there was a longing for something there was


a need for release escape into the labyronths design made to be lost and further lost


than time's spaceless measure space's measureless time it must exist some place deep


somewhere engrained inside the mind's creator creation enlists gods to give and in


God's reap all shall sow all is either sorrow or play too much drama wherefore art thou


Comedy laughing solely at the sleep of Kings beneath a tree with golden leaves written


just for today it was just yesterday tomorrows dream of death ancient more ancient than


being is more lost than the place some earthquake some romantic slip some kiss


evermore the wind rustles the falling leaves each one drifting memory each one moment


light upon the sanctuary one step in the desert sand one lifted leg one foot print past


push the table over an inch align the mechanism with the pendulum releases the diamond


opens the metal lotus sharpening edges spinning three layers of seven petals all different


the magician in his hands holds the flower blossom and sees himself again a man sees him


self again cut up hands gripping at the spinning mass of metal like a tin can kicked down a


dead end street revolving revolver evolution love always getting caught up in the setting and


the scene its all in the composition all in the details of the dripping paint off the canvased


frame from the finger tipped dead skeleton in a room somewhere in a place with someone


sometime some mind we may find these truths to be self evident where's the evidence well


somebody burned it and cut from the tongue the same cloth worn scarab tethered to the


hull of the ship by the wrists dragging the dead end to the finish whats the conclusion and


wheres the concoction hidden in the mantle above the fire place where it should have been


tied tight to the tongue of the gargoyle's face that secret catch when was it I was here last


where is it I have been and who am I again here today where is my shade that hidden sin


the covert eye the secret agent and where the dead man lies the priest prays for whom with


vision's mystery the song spilled runes from the grail from the hand held by the priest into


the stream the black menagrie the spiraling fiend the fire taking hold the mind released the


body old the cherub child laughing laughs againe winged things taking flight in lightning


riddled clouds the rain comes down the mask beneath the tree revealed crying crying crying


the cherub child empty eyed lifts the mask fingers inside wiping the tears away with thumbs


obscure finding again the place where the nameless grave once surely lied once surely it


twas I was here before it seems seems I've lost time seems space aligned with obsidian


melodie like circles expand from the tossing hand skipping stone crost the face of heaven


in every ring an instance in every instant a memory with every memory a moment to be


with every being a prophecy within the prophecy still held closed by the wax drip stamped


seal passed into the overcoat pocket in the cemetery of the accursed and left to die right to


be alive further past the trail off the path one shall find again thyself walking to meet the


cherub child on hands and knees beneath a tree hands covered red looking innocent


knowing nothing but the taste seeing nothing but the flower for its petal finding nought it


is what carries butterflies by the wing to die empty inside at the same exact time in an


alternate universe the mechanism catches the spring the catch releases time in reverse the


gargoyles mouth closes the vile in the pocket of the escaping gypsy jumping from the


window from the table moved an inch falls the child king into the pit beneath the chair the


carpet ignites in spiraled flame the sigil of the lord our savior beneath etched into the stone


to mark the place where once there was a heart once there was a heart placed inside a skull


lowered into a dungeon deeply buried by remorse screaming inside the mind at the guilty


judgement silence so easily devises to torment the crooked wanderer seeking the signpost


at the crossed road some long time back then when it was we entered the forest here the


forest of enchantment enchanting men to dance with their demons deep seeded down in


coiled snakes pits for spiders children breaking skin at each corner of the labyronth a mirror


and in every mirror a face and in each face lies histories insanities made to be like a leaf, like


a leaf falls in the spring from the flowers first waving bloom till the second command runs


through and through till the immortal longing for timeless revelation cuts the throat of SIN


and bleeds for the curse of the ages to be ageless to be what more could it be than this


what more could be barely scraping the surface of the grains of sand in the desert walk of


the child king exiled from the cave of the gypsy prince for declining the offer to share his


mistresses slave but it a kiss it was and a cheeky word play smashing the glass over the


waiters face at the table of two thousand years of happenstance and many more lost to


the races of horsemen galloping away into times distance creating space between who I


once was and who am I today the mirror at the end of the hall at the labyronths entrance


touching it was to be away touching it was to the surface of the face as gently as the stream


flows the rainbow coloured notes of the beggers flut, twas just the imaginings of a song


just the beginnings of epiphany grasping at nothing think nothing of it twas just a dream

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