Fierce is god impenitrable glad glad glad there is a Fire up the street called Heaven There is
A woman wearing only one shoe who is taking an exhaustive drag of her smoke in the early morning where birds are still heard in !!!!!!cities
A hymnal a heralded nest of savory berries A quartzstone is trapped in time a myth is made more ridiculous when proven real
Continents wither where the flies glue their
regal canvases on downtrodden earth (missing Pangea)
Or smiles everlasting smiles meanwhile (Blonde tongues wearing fashioned wigs) in constant state of beguilement
The Neanderthalic stones will be unforgiving to the REVEREND who has collapsed through his song the song of lead pipedream fantasies of sexless dogma YEAH monkhood yeah Ghat burning holes in twilit schools of thought or no thought at all
I can
hear the collective Faerie outcry that silence has presented itself HEAvier to their wicked careless bodies ok I am innocent of love I love your innocent love I am careless(of their wicked careless bodies) ResemblingA swans actual duty to die a swan lies a swan lay like an even more beautiful swan on even more beautiful swanny grass To die by swanlightSUN and MOON white like the swan where we soon listen closely to the swansong a celestialLOVELY rhythm of gilded forest (((((orchestrals The swan leaves us in happiness of bright groggy light O (of which in chaos of day I am again innocent)
The Reverend's desperate gaspings into a micro -phone for a macro - cosmic prayer idol o idol where is your capability for worship idol o where is my chinstrap o idol where is ****** youth or the romanticized eternal SUMMERS I sing O bible O cloudland O where is your telephone operator is they deceased by their own fragrant holines? The church Watches the Reverend neverend his television routine of clamoring death odes Watches his senility come like an implorical shadow outline watches a demon lick its dreamless lips beyond the periphery of godless dreams Watches Reverend lose his sight in anInstant HeWAILSheWAILSandWAILS can you hear it Thomas De Quincey can you hear the sandbeaches ringing more clearly than the ChurchBells or the ****** Pagoda for torture /
his soul is to sleep in the (mossy)mountain the fire of the (forever)street called HEAVEN the mountain column supporting the sky(swan)gate of heavenHeaven!welcome