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.

My Beautiful Baboon

Some day now a lot sooner than we know
We're all gonna realize, it's gonna just show,
that all along that everwas
has only been but maybe three inches All round.

Welcome to the fumbling Wizard Show!

M8ster Mayor pinning post-its receipts mail undone
Medals honored tailor pinned
upon valiant empty chests of citizen.
Exit speech an escape,
distraction a diss of Wisdom each one gets ...
Yeah. Last trick, they say
for ol' Green City baldiehead firegenie show.

Sure, that was the dawning
but CERN in the mourning,
her Age it does not show.
The 'Noxes knocked all back now.
No more Wheel to turn.
The Sequence, it is complete.
How jealous DNA!
So, up, up and away!
All full of hot air and screaming down
the One we thought already lofty, gone.
The one chiseled firebrush speech.
old gravestone down the mountaintop
ain't no iPad that's for sure.
Deific and specific our Mason Mound is sold as its Word,
and a very Impotent royalty indeed now casts away
From urban greenspace ribboncut launch it's
OFF to other places, now scene.
There is Only-You
and every-One.
But also too hiding, lying to the Other
Someone-Else, I'm afraid,
hidden way down deep inside,
the more Selfish of the two.
Like that Third theatre mask that's so not there
with Smiley Crybaby mounted on the wall,
a grand fnord and not finale, thus,
guilds the Trinity
for the oldest incorporated Company
of secret Unions, actors captstone-Eyed.

Cyclops Isolceles, banish Thee!
Thine blunted ziggurati free
so jungle boys swing once more the trees.

Anyday now. It's all gonna Show.
The whole bloody Bluebowl House of Wax a sham,
a shim-sham shitty shitty bang bang glam.
A Mary Poppins crashlanding,
paraSol all upside down a frown
branches barren on her carried stick
without that Web wrapped round and round
to soften witch descent and buffer blow
that medicine bag touchin' down
hittin' hard the cold cold sands of Time.

Faster than gravity to ground
two pennies pinched and tossed off Long Island Sound.
Too 9-11 fast a Tumblestiltzskin,
too jeweled and heavy Gold the crown
their sacred freefall projector loop.
Too fixed in referential now,
too far out upon on the bluffs to even be called Point at all.
No chance against a House not there
to play the card there's really hidden where
in the shuffled stack they think they for certain
when closes final curtain, some
Shakespeare.
Avon.
Groundling.
Draw no more Pentameter,
for Sigil lost when Nothing more a lonely hunch
in a haunted house on some other bag of soup
slurps lunch.

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