You know what I am
One side and the other
Dawdling dreamer to the left
****, do it now by right

Separation by design
How clever safely kept
Yet merge and melt the magic path
when hands are clasped voice rings from center
Surprise result
Human roulette.

Blood in all the right places.

Your square ******* head
looks just the same,
a little older maybe,
some new lines around the edges.

Still the same crazy shine in your eyes.

Years later the same traces,
barely discernible
to the unknowing,
of earlier
disgusting
scenarios
being played out
in your living room.

I  smell the rancid
sweat of old men.

I  taste the curdled,
sour milk
of your breath,
recently begging for
alms.
I hear your hands
pleading whisper,
palms
being offered up
as your eyes
lower.

He owns you.

The owl
owns silence,
it dawns;
movements
are arrested,
as stillness
comes alive
as owl moments.

The condor,
gravitas,
incarnated,
in relentless search,
circling around
the sky's navel,
in a mystical quest,
a motif that arrests
motions of mind.

An owl sits and sees,
a visible presence
of an invisible absence,
on the cosy notch
hid by foliage
on the  tree of loneliness.

Perking up ears
inner silence,
the faithful watch dog,
listens owl's unuttered words,
ever echoing,
deep within the walls
of mind's corridor.

The owl and the condor,
the eloquence of silence,
has two voices speaking
in unison.In the secret center
they reveal the forbidden,
silence rules, the dawn of wisdom
bright and spectacular, awaken
the fog filled landscape.