What they've done is absolutely genius they've purposely filled our minds with things that are beyond belief.

They've made things that in their world are everyday ,common events. But to us exist only in fantasy movies and horror books.
Things like magic and ritual.
Other worlds or maybe just another part of this world we've been kept from since the beginning.

When they die they simply fall out of our fixed point of view and move on to live out their days in their own version of heaven on earth.

Its such a great lie and our minds have been so greatly deprived of all of what this world has to offer.
That even if the lies were to be exposed the people the true victims of this lie wouldn't and couldn't bring themselves to believe that everything they thought they knew were nothing but deception draped in deep dark lies  .
All to preserve that other here that we are not allowed to see.
And our minds have been made unable to believe in.

Who are we
to look to
once they've
killed our
Major Tom.

East sat amongst the
ground level clouds
drenched in the
weeping tears
of Down Town Mothers.

A crystal door chime
sings that song
the wind sang
to me a lifetime ago.

Out of the blood
of the living
comes the strength
to stack these caskets
4 and 5 deep.

That bearded
guitar playing
Demi God
spoke the words
I longed to write.

She was of a
Northern tribe
but spoke the language
of the Devils
and drank only
Volcano fire.

Her tattoos,
calm voice,
dyed hair and
flawless brows
are what pulled
me in.

I fought off Love
and gave in to the
muse while watching
yet another
Southern Migration
pass overhead.

Apartment door locks
all threw themselves secure
as the shadows grew taller
and West wasted itself
back into the sea.

The rains
crept
up on
Los Angeles.

Right along
side the
silent
morning
fog.

And the air
was clear
and devoid of
that ugly scar
of pollution.

Within the days
the ugliness,
my ugly cough
and the hurtful air
returned.

.

I awoke to a day that had been overtaken

The curtains were closed so I opened them .

I stood there in a pair of jersey shorts and a little bit of a headache.

The phone rang somewhere in the other room

I couldn’t pull myself away

I waited for the light to come in.

I stood there like a fool.

Thick black clouds had all settled into a part of the sky

No birds flew in this kind of weather.

No light to remind me its day.

I awoke to a day that had been overtaken .

Hopefully tomorrow it wont be the same

Beneath the shade of
an untrimmed
Juniper tree children
swing from
Hemp  ropes while
singing innocent
rhymes about killing.

The girls use nets
made from a
Reed switch
and catch gentle
Swallowtails
with no intentions
of ever letting them go.

The drunk guy and his drunk girl both sat
on the concrete near the dumpster along
with their oil stained dog.
The guy had stacked up some cardboard
for his girl to rest her backside on.
The dog drank cool water from an old tin.

The guy always greeted me with a tobacco
stained smile and a ***** open palm wave.
His girl was always drunk even when he obviously wasn’t.
Maybe that was his way of keeping her around.
Sacrifice a bottle for the company of her.

The dog  appeared fainthearted and
a bit skittish but his tail always wagged
at the sight of a stranger.
A hopeful wag, a heartening gesture.
One that said he still had hope that one
of these strangers would one day take
him home and away from the life
his fate had cast upon him.

I always took the time to greet the
drunks and the dog.
The guy’s face had that worn leather
look with his bold Native features
and his deep mocha colored skin.
His spiel was always the same he'd
praise my coat and my truck,
the dog would always wag his agreement.

I made sure to always leave them with
a fresh bottle of some cheap wine or
even cheaper *****.
A pack of GPC’s
and a stick of jerky for the dog.

The guy always took the gifts without standing.

He smiled and his drunk woman smiled
and the ***** dog wagged his ***** tail.
He would applaud me as I walked away.
Which for some reason caused me to
feel a bit less instead of feeling better.

Their joy was real.
***** back alley drunken joy.
While mine was only a front.

This all took place before all of this.
At a time when I thought
I was in love.