Psychedelic moon

Home fires

spark, ignition to a
tremendously big flame

the release of the sun
that smolders inside us all

the release, then radiation
of the heat and energy
that humans encircled in stone

the stone, the embodiment
that captured and hides
the burning heat and light

and with the stone
humans encircled around
the hearts of their homes

the first circles of the
eternal cycles synchronizing
sacred with the mundane

glowing orbs crowned
the desert gods in circles...
the writing on the wall

the eternal syllable sounded
in reaching ultimate reality
encircles the lips and mouth

and serpentine opposites,
the balancing forces, were
encased in circular fashion

wheels laid upon the face
of the mother to honor
the ancients and fae

and wheels of eight spokes
speak the path into
understanding mercy

for golden rings hovered
over saints and incarnations
of the crowning divine

but also the holy whole
was intersected
by drawing a line...

and another and another

for swastikas and crucifixes
and stars of different vines

strummed sweet and sour tones
in foreign hearts and minds

the circles and lines found
voice to give human technology
a language of itself

and fought in defining the
duration's measure from
the very starts to the very ends

...spins the world encircling
what was captured and released
to spark, ignite the tremendously big flame

Calcified leftovers

Jargon jaunting: part life's explanation

hence germination
at first parturition
protruding from procreation
to bound the soul in incarnation
and sentence it to mastication...

defecation...

mastication...

defecation...

the regeneration
of matter's incorporation
from procreation
of each and every generation

valued in the proliferation
of life in this manifestation
over and over reincarnation
to plague with infestation
and sentence the soul to mastication...

defecation...

mastication...

defecation...

and after a naturalization
in this habitation
under vigorous dedication
for gene continuation
through constant procreation...

mature to reach deterioration
the body's degradation
and the mind's speculation
of the soul's life evaluation

and through either incineration
or the grave's separation...

divine realization
and soul's assimilation
into blessed revelation

Sips of lips

headed to the sun
I know you're the one
bathing in my heart
from the very start

in scenes of long ago
of bitterness and snow
we ignited in the night
'til the first glow of light

now take some sips
from my dry chapped lips
that spill the words
I should have said to you

and heaven only knows
what I should have said to you

in days that never end
and ceaseless blowing wind
you hold my hand in yours
and open all the doors

we sneak into the bed
our hearts racing red
I look into your eyes
floating away into the skies

please take some sips
from my dry chapped lips
that spill the words
I should have said to you

soak in these drips
from my dry chapped lips
that cry the words
I should have led you to

in the boiling snow
I could have known
all the pain in the rain
falling down... made you drown

slipped on by... lost to time
the thief, the crime
trying I'm...

so take some sips
from my dry chapped lips
that spill the words
I should have said to you

soak in these drips
from my dry chapped lips
overflowing with words
I should have bled for you

On the sealess shore

bodies bleached on
an ocean less beach
and under timeless days

bodies stretched in
white and silver timber
soft and smooth from wind

a wind relentless would
raise the pores of flesh
in times of golden leaves

but days are long in
cooling feet with digs
below the surface

in cool wet grains
below searing terrain
rolling in ageless change

rolling with suntanned
caramel dust under tiny
canopies of silver blue

and bodies bleached
the islands set amongst
these thirsting waves of sea

and castaway of thought
and sense reclines
on fallen benefactors

gazes into azureus
fields held in the arms
of those still standing

the quenching sight
of serene delight pulls
lids of eyes to shut

for bodies dream and
drift and submit to
silent ocean days

Tokens red

cashed in tokens
for the float across
the mired Mersey

tokens red, blood
stained from past
and pass again

churning and turning
through ashes and sins
carried by the Ganges

red tokens appear
again to haunt, remind
the eye divine

of all that is seen
and sent beyond the
trivial life in Amazon

tokens of red don
the head in lips and
masks, in mundane tasks

shadowing true sight
in desert night that
thirsts for drink of Nile

tokens red given wings
for high crown to sing
a lost impression of...

blood money shines
in shallow streams
feeding great Missouri

and tokens red in
vessels flow, pennies
for this circled show

Scenes from the Blue Garden: part 8

Meoooow and Owwwwl

beheaded those
two familiars
who resided high
in the treetop

in their arbor
penthouses, sniffing
nip and licking
mice... such vice

they twice
their nightly flights
ascending from
high-rise prise

Mr. Meoooow
slippery sleek
in between
fences and posts

Honorable Owwwwl
whispery wisps

through chill
of eve and ghosts

a murdered mouse
of fifty mice
was the straw
the camel feared

the plague of
two upon the many
mouse with mouse
would not allow

thus their vow
to catch cat and
owl in dark of
night and wicked hunt

to strew their
bones across the
fields as had been
done of many micely men

thus Mr. Meoooow
found his end
in a giant trap
baited with a dummy

and Honorable Owwwl
left this life
when he gulped up
poison in his tummy

tiny mice cleavers
hacked up the bodies
to fulfill their
vengeful schemes

and the nights grew
silent once again
when cat and owl
were only bad dreams