A place
In my mind
Neither Alien nor Earthly
I yearn to find

Lost
In the Universe
Neither to be found in Verse
Nor Hearse

A place
In my mind
Distinctly Familiar,Yet Unknown
I SEEK
Shall I ,find....

The body is my slave,
My soul is my king.
My mind is my labor,
I think I am existing.

The words are my speech,
I express pleasure and pain,
I am an animal to be tamed,
At the beginning of dawn.

The whitest night glows,
The foundation mellows,
Like light.

The principles of partnership,
softens the fright, of life.

The conditions are given,
I harbor my axe,
I breathe to produce,
I exhale to relax.

The whitest night glows,
The foundation mellows,
Like light.

Where all things were out of bounds,
There resided a king of clowns,
He sang and danced and leaped in mirth,
He moved along the lines of hate.

Where all things were out of bounds,
There resided a king of clowns.

The pranks of hate and love resolved,
The pawns and workers were there to ride,
The canvas of winged and fried consciousness,
A deference to capabilities, to ignore.

But there's a little place,
where Beulah sleeps,
Dances and leaps in Sunshine and rain,
Pure as a concept and whole as a grain,
There are such things but without a strain.

Where all things were out of sight,
There resided a mode of fright.
They sang and danced and gorged with pride,
There resided a frame-less light.

But there's a little place,
where desires are kept,
Prances and plunges in a Pinkish Paradise,
Pure as a conceit and whole as a root,
These are all things that the king had to loot.

But The pawns and workers were there to ride,
The canvas of winged and fried delight,
A deference to a foundation, to demystify,
Where all things were alibis?

Of Mice and Men and an out of bounds,
There resided a king of clowns,
The pawns and workers were there to ride,
The mode of fright from out of sight!

Fantastical ******, I give you shape.
I shake my single state of man,
that function now, is smothered in surmise.

And,
All Blood, reeking wounds and I'm
bathing more in red.

Fantastical ******, you I see,
are withering on the ****** thorn,
I gave you lease, a proper pride,
a vault to brag of,
This wine of life is drawn,
and a pleasure do I seek.

Mournfully.

Morning, O-******, Withered ******,
Time elapses in units and,
Ye!
what fools these mortals be!

These imaginations has now given forth,
to such bleeding forces of-
an Ecstasy.

That I run behind curtains and cadence,
To witness a grinding gorilla,
gorging in glimmering blood.

I dream to see a translated thought-
as If, ****** is reincarnated as meaning,
As truly ambiguous- like trails of secrets.

Such Islets?

I have understood understanding yesterday,
It was as ambiguous as ambiguity can be,
A box should have been opened to sequence this phrase,
I understood that understanding is difficult to relegate.

I thought that maybe thinking should have been better,
It was as imperfect as any perfection can be,
The forest of glass was like a mirror burning bright,
I was hoping again to think again, alright?

And the sausage of chicken was too meaty and fried,
I was ready to digest my chimed and beaten body ghost-
I have understood to develop my thoughts yesterday,
It was as meaningless as all meaning must aid.

I explained the process to my friend who explained some in return,
I was hoping I might think a bit alright,
But it was Summer and we had no leisure at all,
He went back to work as all meanings must go.

I was tired for the day, thus I came back home,
There were things that I actually had to complete,
I understood of things of being at primes,
I was merely seeking a knowledge to understand these lines.

The curtains were pulled, The sun went home,
The bombs were fired, the birds were alone,
I was afraid and so was my friend,
I was thinking to understand ambiguity again.