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Kenshō Sep 2014
The reluctant rain
and the desperate wind
held a funeral service
that day.

The clouds held
like hands
Over the skies dimmed face,
Tempting the thunder gods.

An ebony hawk
oscillated its bill
over the reserved Sauk Land.
Seizing life like gold.

Tomorrow is the Middle East
And loot smells of oil tar seized.
Beware the Pirate Tribe
enslaving the Seven Seas.
.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sauk_people
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sikorsky_UH-60_Black_Hawk
Kenshō Sep 2014
Now
Deciphering coded blight,
I release through this mic.

Built with mind and is always mine;
I build my palace outside of time.

Stumbled paths find their way,
To the golden palace today.

I can coo of golden angels
Fly with the fairies and dive with devils.

All of life's mountain reaches,
and all of its perils.

Reside between, a moment seen.
Of what is, could be and has been.
.
Kenshō Sep 2014
Bring me

A time where food was for eating;
Thus, no hunger, nor over eating.
A time where clothes were for warmth;
Thus, no cold, no glamour.
A time where night did not sheath criminals;
Thus, dreams were merrily spoken.
A time where humanity was whole;
Thus, no discrimination.
A moment where time didn't exist;
Thus, no one sweated being late.

Time came and it went..
.
Kenshō Sep 2014
So there once was a wise man who said,
"A man's reality cannot be perceived beyond
the confines and restrictions of his own ability to think."
No matter what color you are, what language is spoken,
there is a harmony that is needed.
And spoken in ALL LANGUAGES that is an
eternal truth.
Now to say this is a man or woman
tapping into something beyond him/her self
is paradoxical because the outside is the self.
And when it is all one there is one thing needed;
And that, my friend, is harmony.

~

Silent Tone

When all chaos is settled, there is the ability to think.
In that ability and voice, all truths are spoken.
And that truth is emptiness - being alone but all one.
A single mechanism breathing it's gears to create
what surrounds you.
But that is behind the scenes and there is
a show outside.
sketch
Kenshō Sep 2014
Who stands idle at my door?
Nay, is it thee? The Faceless King?
Weeping sorrow songs of passing pain,
Hollow stature, back bent on life-blood cane.
Presenting a shivering tale about how his soul was slain;
Disclosing that a life in shadows weighs more than a moment of death in vain.
.
Kenshō Sep 2014
Sitting like every moment is the first one,
The ineffable center of the spokes of time.
The air that was of magic, that contained no chemical names-
Clothed me in childlike nature, and spoke to me in riddles and games.
The wonderful, glittery .. Cancer filled, jittery.
What is this cycle of anonymous names,
amongst what have I been born?
Cubical jobs and mechanical rich snobs.
Look: We contain something within us..
-Of it I could not speak-
But climb to the wilderness mountain like the rest of them did..
Behold my brothers and sisters the divine mountain still speaks!
I come in peace. Do not offend.
Kenshō Sep 2014
Legends ago, a story told by thee:
Secret whispering melody of an old wispy tree.
Planted ages past, a singular lordly seed.
Containing all extending branches of what your eyes see.

Round the bend the hidden grove,
Over the hill the beach line cove;
All of my scattered temples.
Oh the land there is to roam.

As I pass, you see me walk alone.
As if I'm almost not all there..
Its because I am busy everywhere
Exploring my forgotten home!

                                 -G
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