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JB Jun 2018
When I first Woke, it was bright outside
I was standing in a field of green and butterflies
Liquid warmth and the smell of copper metal
Filled my mouth and nose, and in the meadow
I caught sight of a fawn startled by my peculiar
Form, before running off into the deep woods
Where I must go, into the dark deep woods
Where I go, dark deep woods
Something urges me on like instinct, perhaps there
are people nearby who can help
I must find help, people near help
When I come to the edge of the wood an Elf
I catch in the corner of my eye goads me, begs me
Come hither into the wood and I Go
Go and go further into the dark, deep wood
But I am not scared, only following the sweet copper smell
Until I fall upon a Shadow in the Forest, and into the Black I fell
When I Woke again I taste more copper, and crimson stains
and red are upon my shirt and legs and boots
It is dark now but I can see, see the Fire in the deep woods, and I
follow the light, follow light--tread light! Follow deep into the fire, fading
And the forms awash in the ember glow, asleep and I must go...
Part II coming soon
JB May 2018
I don't care what you say
This is not a bad idea
I don't care if I'm not ready
This is a good idea
I can't hear you telling me otherwise
That this is not a good idea
Here I am, I'm doing just fine

You were right, this was a bad idea
JB May 2018
"They" say the sense of smell is closely linked with memory
I never know how else to say where I get that--
Does Eva Green playing an epidemiologist in "Perfect Sense" count?
Probably not, but there is confirmation
in the smell of coffee each morning
My dad made coffee in an old drip-brew;
My mom makes coffee in a French press
I assume my dad still uses a drip brew--
it's the one he used the last time I visited him
That smell brings back family memories, when
everything seemed good
everything seemed whole
the pieces all fit, and there were no cracks
even though I know now it was just a facade
and couldn't last, and it leaves an ugly aftertaste
Like bitter coffee from an old drip-brew
JB May 2018
like a rumble hardly heard
what is this sound?
or is it beyond that?

i heard that after a certain point
sound is not sound anymore
it moves air and becomes a
    w        a          v         e

  a nd    

we    a    re

left                                 picking      up
    


the                 br  o ken pieces  an  d                   s c   a t ter ed    r e main s    of th   e   b o mb   yo u  left   i t    s     d i a     m e t        e    r    m   e    a s   u r e    d                              

b   y  


         b   r               o    


          k                                                    e n                                                
  h e                     a r   t  s
JB Apr 2018
9/11 inside job/Lizard people stealing jobs
FBI-COINTELPRO/Starting fires in Waco
Two guys, not one in OKC/LBJ killed Kennedy
Earth is flat, NASA lies/when will you open your eyes?

(Chorus) We didn't start the fire! But we're getting ready for the New World Order! The situation's getting dire/So let's get our guns and patrol the border!

Jews and banks, Rothchilds rule/Actually it's lizards, fool!
High school satans, bio-weapons/Feudal system brought to rule
Y3K, Matrix glitch, the UN blueprints for making slaves/
Flouride in tap water IS TURNING THE FREAKIN' FROGS GAY!

(Chorus) We didn't start the fire! But it's too late now, 'cause they already know/We gotta get ourselves prepared now! One day soon the whole thing's gonna blow!
With sincere apologies to Billy Joel and none to Alex Jones and David Icke
JB Apr 2018
Your music makes me cry
But please don't be offended
I am glad to be have lived for a short time
At the same time that you have lived
And have shared the same earth
Though our roots are a thousand miles apart
and our lives two decades separate
And yet your music makes me cry
But please, it's a good thing!
The simple progressions, the slight turns
Of wrists to pluck strings and
Turn wood and wounded bronze into a story
It's a good thing to cry, isn't it?
I wish I could have soothed your burns
And helped take on your burdens
To have stopped the fire
Or at least give you a better muse
But then what else kind of music
would you have made?
Maybe it doesn't matter
so all there is left to say is:
Your music makes me cry
and I wouldn't have it
any other way
For Jackson C. Frank
JB Mar 2018
There is no name
to this little thing I have written

Names allow us
to master our world

But sometimes a name cannot be given

So we are left with

a

simple
image

thought

that is

word-less

A feeling deeper

Than any name can give
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