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.

Motion Picture Society

Pushers preachers
gushes leeches
it's a bloody fucked up world,
and those that love the spill.
Pushed down to underworld
so high upon a thrill. 

What is it we call repressed?
As in pushed once and then again?

The pressure that is applied
crushed when wished to hide
the ugly crow no strawman fears
the one that caws within our ears
as islands take us far away.

Costumed man and weaponry
how McLuhan knew
who like Warhol and the clock
was distorted in distraction true Relativity
for some stupid looking math.
 
And in distance very real
stones on veins and bones crush with zeal
the human screams we project upon
a movie most horrific and prolific
for its extras being harmed in the making
but rated pure big G.

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