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.

I Come From

I come from
a barbarian cruel regime
slaughering Syrian

Seeing Mongol
In Slingshotticus Goliathae,
black soot tires
freedom of movement
the metaphor burning
yawn to open sky yearning...
the camp prisoners embarbed
In gray chemical rain below.

I come from an awful place
boxcar black hand and scroll
and chicken feed

From an awful place...
Corporate and inhuman
words and Law acumen
our States
united to world
no signature a Trust
miss the coming Dawn
in an arrogance unfurled
of must
there could still be
some war

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