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*he says: I want to hear the sun.. on me* 1. cover the width of a personal compostela the yellow-and-black bird flitting branch to branch endless square patterns of light half-cut into shades of green and slant oblique 2. making headway now companions on the path passing by auburn creature with lolling tongue             looks with such kind eyes             glittering diamonds             sun sits on tip of wet nose he seems to be saying something... some evanescent message thoughts are ventilated tones of silence seep in wild flowers in amaranthine bloom sway in nature's perpetual dance always moving 3. what happens to arboreal ghosts when we prove efficiency by cutting the arms of living trees           and with it extended family of foliage? monk passes slow nods in quiet greeting a bare half-smile    enough to reach    yet just truncated enough maybe to prune is needed / 4. how many more steps to tread before the why becomes clear? trod so far sought so wide read so much travelled so intense this journey alone proves so arduous 5. alone... struggled with hidden pain he discovered beneath the layers of happiness.... suffered hunger and thirst along the way.... washed in ***** rivers with no soap.... had to clean his **** with dusty leaves in the eve.... and remembering to eat what to eat...but berries in the dark and he cried, oh how he cried from a place no man should see such a dark place demented and wicked souls at the doorstep of hell would shrink at but first in order to do all that he had to wrestle with himself and die inside he could no longer fail to consent no wistful little prayers or wide-eyed flower-eyes nor awe born in luxury yet for all that... 6. in a little while you will get what you want if you give enough people what they want pray in secret in the sun *the boy with the Jesus sandals walks on his journey has begun*.... S T, (thursday:) 4 July 2013
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Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 6:26 AM UTC
the boy with the Jesus sandals
*he says: I want to hear the sun.. on me* 1. cover the width of a personal compostela the yellow-and-black bird flitting branch to branch endless square patterns of light half-cut into shades of green and slant oblique 2. making headway now companions on the path passing by auburn creature with lolling tongue             looks with such kind eyes             glittering diamonds             sun sits on tip of wet nose he seems to be saying something... some evanescent message thoughts are ventilated tones of silence seep in wild flowers in amaranthine bloom sway in nature's perpetual dance always moving 3. what happens to arboreal ghosts when we prove efficiency by cutting the arms of living trees           and with it extended family of foliage? monk passes slow nods in quiet greeting a bare half-smile    enough to reach    yet just truncated enough maybe to prune is needed / 4. how many more steps to tread before the why becomes clear? trod so far sought so wide read so much travelled so intense this journey alone proves so arduous 5. alone... struggled with hidden pain he discovered beneath the layers of happiness.... suffered hunger and thirst along the way.... washed in ***** rivers with no soap.... had to clean his **** with dusty leaves in the eve.... and remembering to eat what to eat...but berries in the dark and he cried, oh how he cried from a place no man should see such a dark place demented and wicked souls at the doorstep of hell would shrink at but first in order to do all that he had to wrestle with himself and die inside he could no longer fail to consent no wistful little prayers or wide-eyed flower-eyes nor awe born in luxury yet for all that... 6. in a little while you will get what you want if you give enough people what they want pray in secret in the sun *the boy with the Jesus sandals walks on his journey has begun*.... S T, (thursday:) 4 July 2013
one can find one's compostela...in yer own backyard :) enjoying a rare ginger-tea with (deliciously sweet-soured) singed tomato on buttered toast...and listening to this fine song! >> sub-entry: 'Dearly beloved' - - Fred Astaire Songwriters: KERN, JEROME / MERCER, JOHN H. Tell me that it's true, Tell me you agree, I was meant for you, You were meant for me. Refrain Dearly beloved, how clearly I see, Somewhere in Heaven you were fashioned for me, Angel eyes knew you, Angel voices led me to you; Nothing could save me, Fate gave me a sign; I know that I'll be yours come shower or shine; So I say merely, Dearly beloved ~ be mine. Repeat Refrain www.youtube.com/watch?v=DBVmPxQLKTg
st64
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st64
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 6:26 AM UTC
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