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Running through a field of stars
past the twirling gnomes…

The Bell-whistle blows as the train rolls in,
For the field of stars; my home…

An ashen horse in Celtic glee,
And me;

a weary sack

of bones.
The ashen horse is the moon, the gnomes are the twins; Gemini ...the train rolling is the stars in their daily/nightly journey. Read Plato's Cratylus.
There once was a man from Nantucket,
Whose origins were complicated                          
so people wrote
an idiom
about
him.
Where did they hide a punch clock in the timeless solace?

Or did they hide it all?

Perhaps it’s difficult to see some mornings?

We walked together to the school bus-stop, Billie Jean and I,

…she seemed to have a thing for me although I don’t know why?

I had a birth deformity; my feet were horned like snakes,

…a scaly-green monstrosity that locked away my heart and mind,

…so that; like the time clock, no one would ever see me.

Even the trip to doctors in Thebes, it only made it worse,

...all the children in my town found out, and said that I was cursed,

An ancient Greek named Urias claimed;

That tranquil purple’s peaceful dawn had hid a pitcher of lies,

And Zeus’ anger at the act brought down lightning from the skies,

…and struck down the people just like me against a ballad of rainbow fusion sunrise.

For the dreamy cosmos exercises as the pantomime he realizes,

…the many fancies of his disguises that the panoptic mind has in its surmises,

And in their parrying fall the distended fragments of the egg,

…formed some like me who were formed quite queer, said to come from Apulian’s nightly fall of fear.

Glass-bottled visions of events not clear all framed in a circle of Plato’s Great Year.

My feet the scaly-green monstrosity which sealed my heart and mind,

Billie said it was a gift from that Great Old Father Time,

A spring of rocks, a great mountain, a whirlpool and a navel,

I guess one day I’ll become them all, if and when I’m able!
Ancient Greeks believed that a war in the heavens occurred and the original, "giants," of the Earth had been destroyed during it. One ancient author described something unusual about them, their feet, which had claws.

Today, "modern," science calls them dinosaurs and said that a weapon from heaven destroyed them. I like the Greek version better.
soft spoken intro

The tree,
With its lights,
***** and tinsel,
Garland, excitement,
Of these nights,
The mistletoe and a star…
Ornaments,
See the candy canes,
Icicles,
And a door wreath,
On a cold,
Snowy Christmas Eve!  

Toys of Elvin-creation gleam, faces of the children they smile and beam, pitter-patter sounds of feet stomp -ing; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!

A night of magic you won’t believe; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!

Santa Claus and Christmas-time, sing a-long with our cheery rhyme, nothing ever feels so fine; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!

A night of magic you won’t believe; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!

Spicy scent of pumpkin pies, hear the reindeer when his sleigh arrives, toting presents that jolly guy; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!

A night of magic you won’t believe; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!

Santa, St. Nick, Sinterklaas, around the whole world in one night -no pause, and a childhood feeling that’ll never be lost; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!

A night of magic you won’t believe; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!
Tally-**! Jolly-fun! The night ain’t over till Santa’s done; a night of magic you won’t believe, it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!

It’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!

A cold snowy Christmas Eve!
What did you say to me?
How did you say to be?
Scent of the flowers sweet,
I fell off the path; the beat.
Metamorphoses buzzing creep.

Bumblebee, Bumblebee

Nectar pollen and wiggle-dance,
Tear off the shirt and pants,
Without it I’m incomplete,
Rotting in self-defeat,
Awashed in a wild sea,

Bumblebee, Bumblebee

Buzzin’ so high and flyin’
Honeycomb drunken Mayan,
Falling west, rising east,
The party will not surcease,
While I am the Bumble-beast!

Bumblebee, Bumblebee
I am the Bumblebee,
Bumblebee, Bumblebee
I am the Bumblebee

The flight it takes off and from,
As flowers of life become,
Praying up to the Sun,
What am I imagining?  (image-gen-nun)
August vino de lum

Bumblebee, Bumblebee
Bumblebee, Bumblebee
I am the Bumblebee,
Bumblebee, Bumblebee
I am the Bumblebee
I was standing tall,
…in the shadow of the Sun.

Lived a life and saw it all,
…in the shadow of the Sun.

Oh in the shadow of the Sun, there’s no place you can run,
There ain’t no place you can hide, ‘til the solemn day you have died.

Everywhere on the Earth,
You’re in the shadow of the Sun.

No matter what you’re worth,
You’re in the shadow of the Sun.

All the ancient days of the world, far away from the old swirl,
You’re in the shadow of the Sun, that great prince won’t be undone.

In the shadow of the Sun,
  In the shadow of the Sun,
In the shadow of the Sun,
    In the shadow of the Sun,
At the money table, Cain and Abel, Abraham and Isaac,

And neither one cares how you’ll pay as long as it is not a check,

Brassy appendages obversely curl to abruptly angular truncated legs-upon-his-lek,

And the proof of who he represents hangs weightily about his Plouton neck,

See the cotton-wafer stacks shuffled as bricks in rows to the translucent deck,

The waiver now giving its woe whence once wished-for upon the Great Molech?

Mr. crooked hook-nose at his compose will take on any bet,

As Sheol will have it, many lament, being in his debt,

A Canaan cursed and tribal descendant, the relative of Set.

For with misery and suffering well you get what you beget!
A "lek," is a Phoenician word for a table at which a collector stands. Like a modern-day podium...but more than a collector, an administrator for god as the Egyptians saw it.
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