Loma Rica, CA I smoke cigarettes. I drink coffee. I am a free soul, yet unlucky in love.
I sit. I wait. I watch. I learn. I do. I am an odd target for circumstance.
I write. 179 followers / 3.6k words
The signs are there Like a prophetic Supernova dream What are signs Without vigil Without signal
This poem is an original work by Dawn King and my intellectual property. It must not be copied or used in any writings, publications, photos, or online platforms without my express permission.
there's a definite skill in tugging strings marionette controllers understand these things* cords of manipulation pulled left and right to keep each puppet working for his might
a deftness of tasking beyond compare this capability he'll show with much dare an accent always being on the wire's desire as to how he'd like his wooden figures to fire
we marvel at the maestro's astute vigour in employing his expert's toggling rigour commanding all the dolls by ace orchestration *he's a supreme professional of the vocation
Whoever you are Sitting in the dark shadow Of the black widow That hovers atop your
Second sight
I'll find you in the Ego-less corners Of the 3rd dimension Department of duality
Limelight
This poem is an original work by Dawn King and my intellectual property. It must not be copied or used in any writings, publications, photos, or online platforms without my express permission.
Full Pisces moon Equipped with eclipse Perceptions swoon Brain waves tip I begin to ride Beat of the drum Ancestors appear Body succumbed Questions answered In high gear The veil is thin Hawk spirit within Two world trance Sacred dance Drumbeats quicken Time to return Point of entry The journey is done
with dripping elegance the Venus' Pride the False Indigo with proud long stem protruding the Blue Curls dew covered extend roadside curtsies to all who pass by dancing like cultured pearls in the morning light.
the deity was a ******* up minor god* his band of fans saw not the faker *** of a deceptive trait he did so show some were blind to looking at the real bloke others more insightful thought he a joke true believers weren't indoctrinated they knew shams could be invalidated never did he possess the divine glow why praise the charlatan's counterfeit guff of it there would be a perennial bluff his godhead image did dupe the unwise for these disciples were so unsighted of him they'd be lastingly blighted *a pretender until his very demise
They the three, when all were there, went out, out and on down, down to the ground, grounding rooting, rooted to, all that is, is embedded, into, as one with, the bedrock, rocks and soil below, sow, so the seed, germinated seeded, above as below.