Welcome, and thanks for stopping here to read selections of my original poetry and prose. Only half my art is here. As you browse my puppets, words if you will, think of them as empty hulls whose dance and form are only animated in Play through my vocal conveyance of their characters and via my direction of their tone. Lyric to the ears, its whole message soon appears, in thus the conjuring of ancient daemons deep within to combat the evil ones brought up infernal by the Craft of ages can be our stage tonight.

On this blog the theme is AWAKENING and how Revelation is not some story plural in a Book but supposed to be one of yours in this lifetime. Here in verse I share with you my inquiry to which has bonded Muse.
YOUR STORY IS THE STORY. Their horsie four so full of holes they named that way just to have a laugh. Revelation and Creation coincide, they never stopped. A daily occurrence in a Live Show me is true Prophesy which I assure you, smells nothing like a library book, and for which no innocents are ever killed. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you copy it to heart.

Acid Oil Basic Blood

Meet the salty sea.

Souled through
the impedance of matter,
that which stops the chemical solution
to the multitude of human problems;
This postmordial soup -
it will not form
with these mountains in the Way.

My fluids
flow separately from yours,
and only through
the violence of emotion
do they twine in ecstasy.

Stopped.
Always on
always off
a binary hell binds us all
a blinding moment in the light
and then the fall;
molecular darkness again
for atomic dreams.

Not my body!
Not my self in skin!
WHY am I always the ocean
that wants to go the other Way?

I feel its fantasy.
To burst up through rivers
to plow through plumbing
return all that flows to me ;
To attack the bodies of land from underneath
with volcanic toiletry,
to turn glaciers into tiny ice cubes.

"Nature on the Rocks,"
said those the Ancients see.

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