Wednesday, January 10, 2018



I wrote the book for my son
In a time before I went through all of this 
In a town full of miles
empire married to disagreements 
he had a message for me and we danced
in a dark room full of spies and
honest advice.
I was his obsession his love a disease that 
nearly killed me; like the blood 
turning white the parasite of a black widow spider 
how happy we were as a family 
I wanted you to grow up having love and joy
that true love will wait for you; my little boy
I was dreaming of Romeo 
a Pope with anonymity 
who was sold for a mountain of dope
And a royal monopoly.

Manifestations are the real memories
here in one moment repeated
when the President demands his wall be built high as a flag
is raised for the ministry defeated the cronies and crooks
They want us to burn our books

More dissenting people turn 
To reading the shame and dirty looks
Will we see the Day again 
Will we conquer Cain how much pain it took

She shook

Will we hold our last breath on a plane
to California when the world is gone 
or can I have more than evidence
just a memory in this place of men
what makes us human in a blinking spot
I know when I had a vision once young a dot
that I was trapped in a porcelain doll
through the sea on the beach of futility

on a winter's moon above me I see
the peak of the woodland hill falling 
follow a path through the pine trees
surrounded by persecuted visonaries
up to the robin singing to my soul
fighting for nothing but pills control 
The oceans behind my eyes 

The medication you dispense full of lies

My victory one day will be great 
when did people start this hatred of things we think
when will they see; a world covered in snow
Pen eternity aglow 
in another life I made love to a God
a warrior of the starry way to a higher place 
when no one understands that I can’t replace 
My own truth as a diagnosed disease 

and I keep going on to please these so called higher authorities 
through motions in an evil ocean polluted 
Is it normal to remember other lives
are we all just looking on from other sides
of blackness and dreaming infinite to survive 
like kings to rule over 
Time in pyramids of sublime meaning.
I remember us laughing at the table
I wrote verses on scraps of paper 
after I left kisses on the sleeves of your shirt 
It ruined me: that terrible lie
Sarah climbed that ladder to the sky

it never hurt
In that horrible light an angel who died 
and I don't try anymore to defy him
Sophie, the politics of poetry and beauty
are not meant for us for this has gotten ahold
of you and it is only a temporary this 
hysterical reality

Gregory tore all those words 
from the book about trinity she treasured 
But who was the woman who was removed 
They took her dreams from a cloudless night 
because God had a lover, she was right there 
Beside the explosion and I knew her
Devotion was only to saving him 

from a god damn mother fucking explosion.

and if you knew the real story....
was she holy was he able to do the only

the only things
lady with her mountain his revelation 
a dream about a soul so unnerved 
a dream written in the sea shell 
they show me this before they start
Their endless engineering of hell.
we feel trapped and sing bells chiming
Like falling rain and deathly flowers 
I keep swinging on the rocking chair

a golden lamp; an empty Panorama 
swingin and swingin in a confusing way 
the politics of madness and the loveliest 
People are all famous and such rich 
tragedies in a diffident state of illusion 
The hero who knows only one 
Love had won and here I remain 
and the one who finds out when he
comes back the pages burn the church 

through to the right words 
the love that God could be true 
This land I love and life I saved for you 
like a Pirate ship sinking and a light house
near the boat house and he fights about May
a tearful letter, the queen, an indent morning 
With her following me in robes of ruby 
I see theater where the icons don’t entertain 
Is it crazy that I found life so lonely 
will I go back there ever again
I used my words like men 

who spilled out in golden 
from my Pen he wrote again
and he died in July
Why did we learn for a lie
My life is a prophecy unfolding 
Mayfly; what can I do now?
I realize these memories unspoken 
As they fade like a terrible dream 

Mists across a massive mountain 
A there's something missing from me lately it seems 
that we’re just blank space in far off
 states am I crazy to remember 
Can I possibly create the future 
Without there being explanations
For my abilities.
I’m fucking crazy
You can't stop us having it return 
remember giving birth
at the bottom of a church, to burn 
In the ashes from conversion the book that
was her biography turned into a religion 
Stolen to be used for prophecy 
for reforming Rome’s hierarchy.
No one undestanding
my dreams but me
and I will die one day

Living a lie as the world ends again 
and I will keep seeing the future begin 
remembering Gem and floating in a spiral 
Descending the narrows to unreachable 
Depth to conquer a rival.
I will take it all back when I rule this earth 
with nothing only my powers of rage to turn 
pages from unwritten to known 
it all began when we were thrown 
into the cages mercilessly to fight wars 
with lions for the humor of beasts 
an empire on a throne made of disaster 
lying to everyone about the haters of ascension 
the warrior who pretended to mean something.

I never read but the blue tall windows arch 
and high the white lady torn down before
 my eyes ideas in my head
just came from somwhere; memories
of romance not in the story’s they have 
dancing in the rain and the great truth.
So am I to blame for just being me 
Your whore to burn for tables that turn
from the truth you took from
Delusional prophecy.

Where am I now
no matter which side you're on
I miss you more than you may ever know
our romance was a suicide affected 
By a truth all could agree on without proof 
surrounded in harmony simply unreal
 like this just a silly fantasy.
dreams of the future that makes no sense 
hope amidst a dark night full of misery 
Life is more beautiful than it took

to be described in a book to rewrite 
full of your distortion and if might it burst 
like a horrible abortion in my brain 
for a game of control the thought of you 
for more stories to be told to hold onto 
More than the chemical gold  that you 
just fused into me
hold onto each moment you are blessed
you are to be me

I wonder if when they wake up
and see the display 
will they see the way that they were meant to be
or was the vision all the same
 a crime to people who are secretly 
sublimated by history and time.

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