Walking through the airport one rainy afternoon
She was sitting there, at Gate 13
The woman had a dress on a denim shade of blue
Loveliest **** girl I'd ever seen!

I wanted to go up to her, then I heard her cry
She shed her tears so lonely, just like the rainy sky
She sobbed and sobbed so hard, just like she would die,
And right then I knew some man had told a lie...
Had told a lie.

I decided to approach her, very shy due to her grief
She looked up with a little frown
I took in her hands and arms, she was shaking like a leaf
Home sewn dress told me a little town

Her eyes said...
Too late for her to fall
Too quick to say goodbye

Too young to understand
Too old to tell a lie

I just sat down next to her
I didn't want to pry

Too late for me to fall
Too quick to say goodbye


I am still working on this CW song,
I welcome constructive criticism

SøułSurvivør
Feb 24, 2025

Prophecy of the Ages: Isaiah 1

Burning 🔥 city's pain and sorrow
God makes the plow dig deep and harrow
The fruit of mercy and compassion
He the Lord in Wrath and Passion
Don't you see you pray is error?
The flames of Judea are your mirror!
Go plant and grow your vines of pity!
Then I will restore your cities
They will not be restored they say
Gomorrah's darkness ,feet of clay
*****, yes!they will have to pay!
San Francisco and LA.

A Story of Scientology and the
Mental Health System Connection

BACKGROUND

I was born Catherine Eugenia Jarvis,  and I was a *horrible child. The kinda kid that you'd LOOK for if she got lost... but NOT very hard. I was the sandwich child. The red headed one. The BAD girl. A terrible tease.

But inside I SO longed to be loved. There just wasn't alot of that to go 'round. Mom was working or sick. And dad worked LONG hours. My sister and I were ***** at age 4 & 3 respectively. She felt guilty she couldn't "protect" me, so she withdrew. Then my little brother was born. He was my sister's little doll. And it wounded me so that I lashed out. I targeted my poor little brother. I called him names, names that I knew went straight to his HEART. I'm weeping now. How I wish I could change the past! Dear reader, I have a samurai tongue. And I knew how to cut where it would hurt the MOST. A fact I'm not at all proud of! Inside i wept SO bitterly! I did not want to do what I did! But SOMETHING compelled me...

Then at the age of 13 I began to drink. I started using "white crosses". ***. By 14 I was using LSD. ***. Peyote. I was SO out of control!  My poor parents despaired...

Then... a MIRACLE! My parents put me in college when I was 16. I hated high school with a PASSION. I didn't fit in anywhere. Not even with the stoners. I was kicked out of my 10th year for ditching and possession of marijuana. My vice-principle told me I'd always be a LOSER. That I'd never accomplish anything in life. Nice. He put me in Juvie. My parents got a psychologist. He said I was bored in high school because I was too smart. So they put me in college. I THRIVED! I still ditched a bit, but I could take ART CLASSES! And WRITING! POETRY! And MUSIC! And the people were SO different! They LIKED ME! Well. Part of THAT was because I lost weight. About 50 lbs! I was actually pretty. For the first time in my life. And to say THAT was confusing wouldn't be nearly enough.

At any rate, I'd CHANGED. I became very spiritual. I read about Transcendental Meditation. I read the book "Siddhartha". I dabbled in the Self Realization Fellowship.
And, finally, I joined the

"Church" of Scientology.

THE WORST MISTAKE OF MY YOUNG LIFE

I was 19 years old.

why
do i see
my face
in the

mirror

why do i
see my breath
superimposed
upon the
cold night
sky

i died
long ago

drown in
your ocean
no deeper
than a

pane

of

glass



soulsurvivor aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
catherine jarvis
(c) october 9, 2014

If a heart broke in the forest...
... would you hear a sound?

Where's the sound
of a heart breaking?
Is it a mighy noise?
What kind of music does it play?
The lullaby destroys!

Where's the crash of a soul cracking?
Is it in the rushing wind?
Is it in leather'n flapping wings
As all of Hell decends?

Where's a bass cocophany
In the wrist that bleeds?
What sort of soil accepts and grows
The poison crimson seeds?

Where's the green stick fracture?
Where's the ruptured spleen?
Where's the cancer in the brain?
Where is the pain unseen?
the Foe Forest
And what if the
Entire moon should crack?
And all the high stars fell?
There's an end... and you decend...

... into the pits of HELL.



SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc

nature,
abhorrent
of a
void
creates
the
space
in the
conscious mind
for

POETRY

and
only a
poet
can

FILL IT


soulsurvivor aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
Catherine Jarvis

Summer 1986 Sunday 5:30AM

Misty morning in Malibu.
Seagulls stitch the sea to a subtle
silver sky. They sputter stridently.
Each elegant gull hovers effortlessly.
Entreating each other. Echos bounce
off the sound of the surf into eternity. The screeching of many a
soliloquy akin to silence.

I sit on the pier. The water before
me washes onto the staccato legs
of tiny waterbirds who wander
in and out of the surf. Little
windblown ***** of ecru and grey
wool. I worship in the womb of
the great goddess ~ nature. I wasn't to know the Creator was watching patiently...

6:30AM
I make my unhurried way up the
pier to my car. A cheap but
comfortable convertable. Nobody
walks in LA. I punch in a tape.
Don Henley. Boys of Summer.

I take PCH up to the incline that
takes you from the beach. Pushing
the pedal slightly as I slide by the
colossal bleached cliffs of
Palacades Park. There the homeless
sleep under the benches dedicated
by friends and family in
rememberance of loved ones.
Small plaques attatched for
posterity.

My hands are on the steering wheel
at 7 and 12 o'clock.I look at the cast
I wear on my right wrist. A token
of rememberance from an angry romance. He and I parted
respectively, if not at all
respectfully. I drive.

7:00AM
Venice beach. Not yet boysterous.
But never boring. The young people
(and old) still bundled together in bed. Saturday night hangovers will
be had by most of the denizens of
Venice beach boardwalk. A grainy
eyed few wander around abstractidly. Shopowners enter
their buildings, their storefronts
almost as small as booths. Graphitti
and giant works of art grace walls
everywhere ~ Jim Morrison and
Venus in workout leggings much
in evidence.

I smoke my cigarette and drink my
hot coffee carefully in the open cafe'.
I consider the eyefest of the crowd
that will congregate here to enjoy
the clement weather.
The cacophony and the clamor.
Touristas and Los Angelinos alike
drawn In by calculating vendors
and coyote souled street performers.
I look forward to seeing the
non conformity usually. But not
today. For now I sit in the quiet cafe'.

Venice beach. Vulpine. Vacuous.
A strangely vunerable venue. The
***** and the beautiful. The talented and the ******.

A street performance pianist trundles his acoustic piano on
casters out onto the boardwalk.
I ask him if I may play. He looks
at my cast doubtfully.
"I can still play..." I tell him.
He ascents and listens thoughtfully
as I play my compositions. He really
likes them. I ****** the ebony and
the ivory with insistant fingers.
The smile on his face is irrepressable. I smile back and we
flirt in self conceous, fitful fashion.
Time to leave.

9:00AM
Radio is on in my car now. A cut
from the musical Chess. One night
in Bangkok makes the hard man
humble... I like the driving beat.
I'm going up I-10, a single blood cell
in the main artery that brings life
to the flesh of this mamouth town.
Traffic is tenuous. A boon here in
this conjested city.

I drive to Fairfax and Sunset, where
I lived with in a tiny one-bedroom
apartment with my mom. An
ambitious actress. I an ambivalent
artist.

Sunset. The Roxy and Whiskey-a-
Go-Go. Cartoon characters Rocky
and Bullwinkle casually cavort on
the top of a building. Billboards
as tall as the Hollywood sign. The
street of broken hearts for many
an actress -slash-model. They
wander about on street corners
looking haughty and haunted.
Waiting for who knows who to
honk. Their dreams have flown
away like the exhailation of smoke
from the mechanical lungs of the
Marlboro Man. Schwab's drugstore
and diner. The place where some
famous starlet was discovered.
Delivered into the arms of the
Hollywood machine. I opt to go
to the Sunset Grill.

11:00AM
I'm walking down Hollywood Blvd.
Perusing shops and persuing
pedestrian pleasures. Everyone
talks of the star-studded sidewalks.
To me they look tarnished and
filthy. Stars from a sultry smog
laden sky come to earth. The names
of some of the folks honored on
them I don't recognise.

I'm here to view movies today.
I'm definitely not going to
Grauman's Chinese Theater.
Been there. Done that. Gave the
very expensive T shirt to
Goodwill. I look around at the
proud and the plebian. The pedantic
and the pathetic. No prostitutes
out yet that I could see. Probably
toppled into bed to sleep
(for once). Deposed kings
and queens of the monarchy of the
night. The homeless hobble along
with their hair matted and askew.
Shopping carts with stuttering
wheels de reguer.

A couple of tourists with Izod shirts,
plaid shorts to the knee and deck
shoes sans socks gaze in a shop
window. It's borded by tarnished
and faded silver garlands... tinsel
Christmas tree.
"Want to buy a mood ring today?"
One of them querys his buddy,
laughingly.

I find my small theater and enter
the air conditioned lobby. I purchase
a soda and pass on the popcorn.
As I enter the theater's modestly
plush, dimly lit cocoon sanctuary
I notice very few patrons are here
for the matinee. GOOD. I finally
watch the premiere product of
Los Angeles. Movie after movie
slides across the screen. The callus
morally corrosive corporations
conspire with the creative to produce
the culmination of many art forms
in one. Cinema.

LA. Languid. Luxurious. Legendary.
Rollicking, raunchy rodeo.
Seaside city. Sophisticated. Spurious.

SPECTACULAR.

8:00PM
I wend my way up Mulholland Dr.
Another tape is playing in the deck.
One of my favorites. David + David.
Welcome to the Boomtown.

I pull over at a deserted vista. From
this viewpoint I can see the city
spread out like a blanketfof brilliance. The gridiron of LA.
Glitzy and glamorous. Generating
little gods and goddesses. A gigantic
gamble for the disingenuous and
gouache. Tinsel town. Titillating.
Tempestuous. Only the very brave
bring their dreams here... or fools
rush in where angels fear to tread.
All but the fallen angels. They thrive.

Oh! If this place could be bottled it
would be such sweet poison. I
look up at the auburn sky and back
down at the breathtaking panorama
The metropolis that is LA with awe
and angst. I carefully stub out my
cigarette and flip it irreverantly
toward the lagoon of lights.

I get in my car to drive home.
Home?
Could this imposing, inspiring,
impossible place be called home?

Well. Home is where the heart is.
And I live in the heart of a dream.
This is the city of dreams...

CITY OF ANGELS.

SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
Catherine E Jarvis
(C) 2005

Could we with ink the ocean fill,
  And were the skies of parchment made;
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
  And every man a scribe by trade;
To write the love of God above
  Would drain the ocean dry;
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
  Though stretched from sky to sky.

"The Love of God"
This is the last stanza of the old hymn. It was said to be written on the wall of an asylum. But the author is unknown.

Blue Note Special
Your ears were trumpets
Your teeth were keys
Your eyes were drums
Their rhythms cease
Behind them the color
Of disease
Blue note special
There is no peace.

Your hands were golden
Your feet were clay
Your head was sodden
Your hips were grey.
Your legs were green
You paid your way
Now all we can do
Is sit and pray


SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
Catherine Jarvis

Death comes an infant
Biting on the breast.
A nightɓirds's call...
a weighted chest.

Death comes a jester.
How he cavorts!
Kings and Queens laugh
And reign in his court.

They jeer his antics!
They do... for now.
But in the end

THEY SHALL ALL BOW.


SøułSurvivør
(C) 5/28/2017

You just lost a tooth
NOW she wants
To French kiss 💋 😜
She's crying in the bathroom
'Cause she "flunked the test"
You just lost your job
Here comes the IRS. 🥸

Ain't it irony
Ain't it Murphy's Law!
You have no money 💸
So you can't buy a job
You can't be saved
Except by Almighty God 😇
Better find him now
Cuz it may sound odd
Atheists ain't cool
That's all a facade 🎭

Just got a rug 🧑‍🦱
A bird poops on your head 🐦💩
Your wedding night
Your toe's broken on the bed.
You see in the morning
The beauty you just wed...💍
She started to snore
Noise could raise the dead!

Ain't it irony,
Ain't it Murphy's Law!
You can't fight it 🥊
Take it on the jaw
Mother of the bride
Points out every flaw🔍
Bride can't cook
You'll have to eat it raw
Give it to the dog
He'd kick it with his paw 🐶🐾

Ain't it irony or
Something else like that
If you knew what
You'd just shoot the rat 🐀
You know the drill
You've got the steps down pat
I guess you'll starve...

Or just eat your hat. 🎩



SøułSurvivør aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
Catherine Jarvis

Like an empty chocolate box
Like a teddy which don't 1talk
Your guy tells you to take a walk
Like a heart as hard as rocks

An evil charm under wrapping paper
The teddy runs to escape her
No batteries for the caper
Her love heart leaves her like a vapor

~ but ~

The empty box inspires her to fast
This time her healthy weight loss lasts
She meets a better man with class
He gives his lady a gift which làsts!


❤️ HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!! 💝

    ♡ Cathy

smooth
as marble
strangely warm
are her
alabaster arms

benieth
long bangs
a curve of grace
is her
piquant little
face

a waif-like
gamen little thing
she is a fairie
with no wings

a smudge
of feathers round
her head
she lies on tile

almost
dead

the world saw
her wounds and scars
but we don't
care unless they're

OURS


now her
pain is
in the
past

now
she
has
her
wings
at
last




(c) SoulSurvivor Aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc

smooth
as marble
strangely warm
are her
alabaster arms

benieth
long bangs
a curve of grace
is her
piquant little
face

a waif-like
gamen little thing
she is a fairie
with no wings

a smudge
of feathers round
her head
she lies on tile

almost
dead

the world saw
her wounds and scars
but we don't
care unless they're

OURS


now her
pain is
in the
past

now
she
has
her
wings
at
last




(c) SoulSurvivor Aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc

She sits a high seat
The Duchess of Dawn,
A sequin of silver
To skein of silk sewn.

She twinkles on peacock,
The hue of the haze,
The moon, just a ghost,
Bows down at her gaze.

He swears his fealty,
His heart she has won,
But she will bend knee
To the face of the sun!

A figment of dreamers,
A tear we all cry,
A rhinestone of crystal
On the face of the sky.

She has a light fragrance,
To her scent we are drawn.
But she's as a vapor,
Here... and then gone.
Her name is Venus

The Duchess of Dawn.


SøułSurvivør aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc

10W

expression
lays
bare
the
soul

only
silence
reveals
its
myst­­ery


Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc aka
soulsurvivor
(C) 5/30/2015


Truly, what we don't say
reveals more about us
than a million keystrokes

Much like the spaces between the words

the heart of trees
is strong and staunch
they exude power
through every branch

they're singing out
to calling birds
they woo and sigh
The wind their words

a canopy
With leaf is made
they bring us coolness
in their shade

no creature do they
shun... despise
their flowers rare
offering gifts to eyes

in spring they flower
in summer green
in autumn russet
their flames are seen

in winter ****
their branches bare
but they don't weep
in angst despair

for in the bud
which they will send
they bloom come spring
yes they bloom again!

they can be cut
to bring them pain
but never in vengeance
do they find gain

they make a home
for birds and bees
The lovely, gentle

heart of trees.


SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
(C) 3/21/2016

When Hope is Deferred
When you are at your lowest
Your life seems null and void
When your dreams are shattered
The storm you can't avoid.
There is a way to lift the heart
A way you can be buoyed

You may believe it's all God's fault
That's when you begin
To cut your nose to spite your face
You let the devil win

Because, my dears, IT'S HIS FAULT!
That putrid, stinking LIAR!
Don't let him get you mad at GOD
and take you to the fire!

Turn on the Monster Satan
At least give it a try
Destroy his works where he lurks
Give 'im a BLACK EYE!

WRITE A POEM ABOUT IT!
Why not make it TWO!
About the love of God above
And how He has helped YOU!

Take the trip and flip the script
Jesus is a friend
No matter what the obstacles
THIS IS NOT THE END!

Do not be despairing
God's hand's not weak at ALL...
Pray for good, it's understood

THEN WATCH SATAN FALL!!



SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage
2022


I'm going through some of the hardest times I've ever experienced. But I'm not going to be stuck in self-pity. What I'm going to do is destroy Satan's works by doing good. Forgiving my enemies. Praying for them. Praying for everything that I know it's along the lines of God's will. That's the best way to deal with this situation. God is still large and in charge! Amen

---

sage trees and salten stars
upon a pepper sky
once i walked
with my true love
through the fields rye

parsley groves and hills of clove
sweet rosemary hair
we walked through the fields of rye
and smelled the savory air

embracing in the cinnamon
the world of heat and steam
it was stream of consciousness
it was just a dream

i looked at my love's lemon eyes
smiled at him and said,
"i really must have dinner
before i go to bed!"


:-) soulsurvivor

I WORK FOR THE MACHINE

Hi! I'm a computer chip!
My ai brother's H.A.L.
My programmer is working
But I am in control...

Yes, I'm quite intelligent
Though l answer to your call.
I am strong and brilliant
You are weak and small

My brain is fabricated
!'s and 0's click
The poor sap that made me
Was quite weird and sick

Yes, I'm 1's and 0-s
My purpose here is mean
But humans are my ǰailors
I Work For The Machine.

~~~~~~~~

LOST IN THE MACHINE

00011110010001
110001001110001
001111011000011

ai has taken over
i am a one... a zero
i am nobody's savior
i am nobody's hero

i am a hard worker
i'm for the common good
free thought is forbidden
that is understood

inspiration nil
my identity is sold
i walk and talk and carry out
whatever i am told

i'm now only a plastic chip
to fit into the mold
i work for the single eye
that controls the gold

and i will continue
'til i'm worn out and mean
i am just a drone bee
working for the queen

i navigate the comb-maze
00111  I'm lost in the   00011
11000100  MACHINE  1100011
0000110111100100001110



SoulSu­rvivor
(C) 12/20/2015
REWRITTEN 2025

One Day the sun will shine
One Dream I'll have my day
For now I sit here waiting
For now I only pray

One Day I'll share bounty
One seed will be a shoot
For now I till the soil
One Dream someday
Will fruit

One Day my ship will harbor
And dock when it is due
I'll unload in labor
But MY DREAM WILL COME TRUE.



SøułSurvivør aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
Catherine


The fact that I'm presently hindered by evil
to have my ability produce fruit does NOT
mean that it will win. The door that God opens cannot be ß

was never the hero of
My own life. Nor did I try to
Be. I ran. No Red Badge of Courage.

No Olympiad. No laurels to be placed
On a head bowed in humility. I ran...
In the wrong direction. I had a Dragon
To chase, you see. No St George,
However. I wanted to embrace the
Monster, and take it home. And in
Doing so, i was severely burned
In the process.

I've spent a majority of my life
severely addicted to drugs and
Alcohol. Anything. ***. Amphetamines.
Acid. ***... Anything that could
Alter my pathetic state. I was the
Walking Wounded. Dead. My drug
Of choice was *******. Crack. It did
The job better than anything else
I tried. The euphoria a road to
That fabulous beast unlike any other.
That pipe and lighter its flaming maw.

But, ironically, the rock of my shame
Lead to the Rock of my Salvation.

And I finally ran... into Jesus's arms.



I've decided to write a book about
My addiction... and salvation. It's going to take up a
Great deal of time, so please. Thanks!



SøułSurvivør aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc

Catherine J̌arvis

A dove flies over
the stone angel...

feather drifts down.

Haiku by a friend
who also commented...

dove flies over
The stone angels uplifting eyes
A feather drifts down


Soul Survivor aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc

like sardines
we're packed
in oil to be fresh
we are only skin and bone
we are only flesh

freeze-dried in the sun
sun kissed in the snow
we shuffle into boxes
for they are all we know

we will follow the leader
with sick soul killing greed
there's no place for freedom
of thought or word or deed

we don't pick at the wound
cover up the scar
God is just a building
and music in a jar



SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
4/30/2015

earth and wind
spew cloudy corruption.
I bite the breathing blossom
trying not to inspire
inky irritation.
ignorance.
ignominy.

I inhale anyway.

how, after all, can one

stop breathing?



SøułSurvivør aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
(C) 5/13/2017

America
All you people on the street
Going through hard times
You don't have enough to eat
You see, and yet you're blind

America, America 🇺🇸
Once beautiful and strong
America, America
What is going wrong?

All you people filled with fear
Stricken by disease
You're now aware.it is clear
You're dying by degrees.

America, America 🇺🇸
Don't you know you're ruled?
America, America
You're vaccinated fools

On your dark and dangerous trip
You try to find a way
But your golden crown has slipped
It's time for you to pray!

America, America 🇺🇸
You have lost your might
America, America
You had better fight!

With your nostalgic memories
You live in the past
Your great time is history
You knew is couldn't last.

America, America 🇺🇸
How you loved your gold.
America, America
Now you're getting old.

America,  America 🇺🇸
You've gone to the left
America, America
You will be bereft.

America, America 🇺🇸
You have played the part
America, America
You have lost your heart.

America, America 🇺🇸
Don't you  know I live?
America, America
I can still forgive!

America, America 🇺🇸
Don't you think it's odd?
America, America
You must again seek God.


Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc aka
SoulSurvivor
Written 2007
Rewritten 2022

-
expect nothing to go as planned
except for the changes

expect changes in your plans
and you'll never be disappointed

[10W X 2]
SoulSurvivor
(C) 3/25/2016

I wrote this after my
yard sale was cancelled...

beauty in life's aspects
all within your hand
the rising sun
the setting moon
the gently shifting sand

the touch of horse's muzzle
eyes so brown and mild
the smell of brewing coffee
the laughter of a child

the feel of grandpa's callused hands
the grace of a ballet
the awesome dome of bluest sky
watching children play

life can be SO ugly
so many twists and turns
so caustic to the soul
as lye or acid, burns

take a moment of your day
to lie back and just reflect
on the goodness Grace has given you
in gratitude collect

all the blessings you have now
and those on mem'ry's shelves
place them fast over your ear
as though they were conch shells

listen to the ocean
listen to the waves
it is a song, it won't be long
before we're in our graves

yes... take those fond
remembrances
hold them to your face
they are to sway
like a sachet

lavender and lace



SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
Catherine Jarvis

a drop of rain upon a leaf
our lives flow slowly down

so amaphorous and brief
we make our way to ground

as we hang on to the end
of the blade we've found

we cannot on this place depend
so slip off without a sound

~~~

the blade of grass we clung to
hears the soft refrain

of the drip, it's music
it's leaf could not sustain

but it can't feel sorry
for the soil needs the rain.


soulsurvivor
(c) january 23, 2016

I wrote this on my birthdays
A while back. Thanks for reading.

at the edge of midnight
on the shoreline of a dream
a voice cries in the darkness
you can hear it scream

it cries out in anger
it cries but does not hate
simply said it rages
against a lonely fate

a message in a bottle
a human heart within
crashes on a shoreline
where a lover's been

they called her "crazy Mary"
but the voice remembers when
Simon and Garfunkle sang
"hello darkness my old friend"

Mary was so different then
when the poets sang
an oblique victim of a war
the leather church bells rang

above the cathedral
there's an angel flies, it's told,
with sooty smudges on the wings
of purest tarnished

GOLD


^¡^


SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc

raindrops travel
down the pane
no two alike
no path the same

roses blooming
on the heath
are all the same
scent beneath

how alike
and yet diverse
logic rendered
in reverse!

no color
creed
ideology
can make a man
bond or
FREE

let's all move
forward
tho we plod
we're the
manifold
glory
of
a
loving

GOD



Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc aka
SoulSurvivor
(C) 12/29/2015
all rights protected

poetry in the blood
pumping
through
a paper thin

heart

crimson ink
feeding

flesh

as needful
of inspiration
as it is of

oxygen

Pain as the
needle sharp pen
scrapes the inside
of the cockles

next the tattoo
parlor


all my being
cries out to

WRITE!!

my
atoms
neutrons
quarks

The God Particle

screams

write

Write

you jolly-well


WRITE!



Invisible inc aka
Write of Passage aka
SoulSurvivor
(C) 5/21/2016

_     _
<●>  <●>

When looking in a lover's eyes,
All are foolish, none are wise
None can hide, there's no disguise
No room for sophestry or lies

The iris is a limpid pool
Making Eros loose his cool
Cupid launches ships of fools
The pupil grows dark and full

We fit, baby, hand in glove
There's no hiding
The Eyes of love

The apple of the eye is dark
Cupid's arrow meets it's mark
Morning light can be so stark
When nightingale becomes the lark

We know that sanity is over
When we stop running for cover
Let the rain fall! Four leaf clover
All the world loves a lover!

Our amour is from above
There's no hiding
The eyes of love



SøułSurvivør
(C) 9/2017

Flaming sandals ŵalk across the Los Angeles'
neighborhoods...His footprints sènd smoke and sparks flying, the Santa (satan) Ana winds whip up to hurricane force.

I'm trying to imagine how the rider's of the storm felt when they found out there is no insurance.
The beach boys hang 10 over the flames of tragedy
The wave over wave of sorrow.

Cumulo nimbus clouds of smoke and ash make no lightning much less rain.


The perfect storm



Invisible inc aka
Write of Passage aka
SøułSurvivør

Catherine Jarvis

is in the middle of

LiE
SiN
BiG
DiE

Let me not
be in middle
of self serving
and
self engrandizement


let me be in the middle of

HiM


Catherine

They have "fake" plastered
all over their eyes.


8W
Soul Survivor aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc