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preston Aug 22

Guitar riffs, and cliff dives
you always were the one

  that could believe

That there is a  bone-structure, placed
in everyone's back..  built perfectly

  for the mounting of wings

A beautiful skyrocket boy..  machinless
in a machine-filled world

  its diabolical pressings

Made their Unholy way,
right into you,  a vulnerable child

  a child
a  child, child, child

  covered in the softness,  of metal

in the end
you thought you had  no one
to turn to
Oh my beautiful
beautiful sweet man

"Must've been mid afternoon
I could tell by how far the child's shadow
stretched out  and
He walked with a purpose
in his sneakers, down the street

He had  many questions
like children often do"

oh my beautiful Bubba
am I very far?
<3 <3
  Aug 9 preston
Midnight Rain
eyes of my night,
where do i keep you?
you, who appears from my silence.
you, who cuts out from the sky and descends
even in my loneliness—
     you, who looks at me
knowing you’ll disappear as soon as i blink
—as if i wouldn’t find you lost in a memory,
lingering in the shadow of my sleep.  
as if i wouldn’t dream dreams of your
face, like a prayer, resurfacing from the palms of my hands.

where do you go leaving like this then—when even your leaving stays here with me; your disappearance ripples through me, tears me down before i even wake from sleep.

River running..

That rushing sound in these parts
spell out the words, crystal-clear..
Tree-lined banks, giving way
to the Dark Hills,  upslope

Giving way,  to
granite-rocked outcroppings
giving way to  elk-hidden quakeys
Surrendering their holy-huddle's
pristine stances
to tall  prairie-grass, waving
wild raspberries  and tall pines

    And I,  myself.. 
    am surrendering also
She is watching the water, believing
That as it flows,
she will not lose herself in it
That it will not steal,  but heal

That I will not  rage again
within my fear

I am watching her,
watch the water
I am watching the water--  believing
That as I give  of myself
further  into the flow

that I will not become  diffused
by humanity
By the love  of man
and all  of its dishonesty

and all  of its  diabolical treachery

Of its  lack of concern,
or understanding
Or ability to break through
its own,  self-centeredness

Or its need  to swallow me up
    into the mundane.
Her hands are in the air now,

the true nature  of the flow,
that I will let all of this, go
And as she  wades in
I ease, back--

up the Dark Hills, *****
Clutching tightly..
To granite-rocked outcroppings,

Hiding in the quakeys,
among the majestic elk
Begging for the tallgrass, cover
among the wild raspberries.
   Now, fully concealed
   in  tall pines.

Her hands
are stretched out,  now..
as if hovering  over the waters,

While I hide  from it all

While I hide,  from humanity;
From the fallen,  love of man

    She is wading in,
As I am leaving;

    As the cloud-hidden sky,
    starts raining--

playing the most incredible, of tunes.

Now Muriel plays piano
every Friday at the Hollywood
And they brought me down to see her
and they asked me if I would

do a little number
And I sang with all my might
She said,

"Tell me are you a Christian,  child?"
and I said,  

"Ma'am, I am tonight.."
even the strongest,  at times
become afraid

  Aug 9 preston
A W Bullen
We were only ever
moving through..

A transient
encounter pinked
in sprinkled serendipity

had synchronised
our step

and having met
before the bested peaks
of all that seemed unlikely
we stayed close.

needless plays
of problematic metaphor,
we laughed and wept,
deplored enforced morality,
embraced a great unknown,

explored the cultic
sympathies, arrested
in our infancy
and swore an oath
eternal to the greenery

..while knowing
well, the day will come
when one moves on
take and embrace your chances
  Jun 17 preston
I wish I had the words to say, my blood soaked brain
it stains the cloth that suffocates, baby's blue face
I wish I had the words to say, my aching state
I ate the taste, neglect my frame
a shapeless pain, no meal today

wring out blood and words and thoughts forever
wring out blood and words and thoughts forever
wring out blood, words, thoughts, forever
wring out blood
wring out blood
wring out blood
wring out blood
wring out blood
wring out blood
wring out blood
preston Jun 8
You are beautiful forever--

the core of who you are..
still  wholly uncorrupted,
is made in the very image of God--

It is intertwined with your flesh
so that your flesh may become healed.

But your flesh is immersed in
the stupidity, placed there by others,  not you.
But you are the one that still  chooses
to believe its ******-up message--

The one that says   it will not work
or that   it's all too much
or that   no one cares, anyways

or that  you are not worthy
             of the magic that is in you.

The relational part of your own  healing
that already exists  within you
will come to you from those
who love you enough
to want to tell you the truth--

That the message your traumatized flesh, carries
is nowhere near the truth,  but instead
is immersed inside of the lie.
I tell you the truth, in response to your
acknowledgement of my faith in you
and you respond by treating me as if
you have no value for me whatsoever.

What tells you inside of yourself
to respond that way?

So, I make a play for you again,
not to make you mine..

  but to remind you of who you truly are.

All of the healing you will ever need
is already inside of you..  through the
Image-bearing nature  of the very core
of who you are.  Its deep ache  to permeate
your broken flesh  is held at bay
by Love's beautiful choice to  yield
to your own freedom of autonomy

Because love, without freedom
is not love at all--

but only control.. with a smile.

I weather your storms
because not even your own  lack of
believing in yourself  will ever
stop  me from believing in you.

--And yes.. you are at times difficult--
sometimes to such a degree,  that the dream
you actually are to me..  at those times

can feel to me as if instead,
like a bad nightmare..

But that is only the stupidity, of your flesh
and your own temporary stupidity  of actually
believing  that,  in itself..   as if  to be life..

 and as if  to be you.

You are my beautiful,  forever
that will never, ever  change.
One day  you will see, beautiful girl.

I know that one day,  you will see

“I said, ‘You are gods;
you are all sons of the Most High..’"
~The Kingdom of Dave
  May 22 preston
M Vogel

Forgiveness is
as forgiveness  does

and I have fallen  short
of breaking through
this family thing
this family, fling

This family hold
from days,  of old

This family-fed,
smiling, waving
****-pocket, (in)bred
adrenal gland
Death-bonded hold
this fungus-laced mold
holding you down
by your choice to choose
Nothing, but them

And out of the ashes
reaches up a hand
that strangles the mother-******..
aptly called

because  his ******* of
your mother..   his daughter,

groomed her
to bathe her pure, firstborn daughter
in order to offer her, back to him
as a living, breathing sacrifice--

Pure.. Holy.. Blameless;
without spot,  or defect   to him,  

     the destroyer of worlds

but mostly,  just yours --
his dearly, dearly beloved.

and I have failed, in killing the *******
I have fallen short  within my love
for his granddaughter
of pulling her free
from the incestuous, family tree

My so very beautiful  was the only one
of them that ever wanted  to want
to  break free

And out of the ashes
I'm left  with only me

And this mess  of a mess
that  within the depths of my love
I have messed..  almost hopelessly..

I've been shaking.
I've been bending backwards till I'm broke
watching all these dreams go  up in smoke
an ode to the power of family dynamics

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