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.

Blackbeard & Ol' Ben

Ben Freaking Franklin on the gravelstone, halfwit one AM outside,
my keykite though so aloft in frenetic Frankenstein assault electric air seems zippo and a clove.

Robinson Crusoe mounts the windy porch.

The moon is Goddess this night of nights and she fights well, for we had faith go to see her on the shore.

And back from beach I am up now, and so is she,
with a rainbow all around ... despite the Telsla blown in ribcage 'cross the Sound.

Full bluecast seashore shingles on every house around
the stage
two blues a movie for light and shadow play celestial and so-called atmosphere for me but for wind and thunder there is no sound.

And above rolls mythos low enough to touch while VISIO illimunates some blinds.

Not me tonight!

For here your Nature rolls with gods in nightplay,
and deep inside the torch, the light, shines wondrous as does full day.

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