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Light House Jan 2018
I know I was a bit too young to really appreciate it, but ****...

                                                    ...I miss the 90s.
Light House May 2016
it took me,
to understand
that it's not a quest for perfection,
but rather
a race against time.
Light House Oct 2016
A Villain Three Ways

Forever Fractured

Once the heart *splintered
love was lost, forever; dark-
ness enveloped… all my light.

Blind Swine

Choosing fog. …Over
& over, as selfishness
is fed. Over &…


~^~^~^…With a disregard
to concepts of right & wrong^~^~^~
~^~^~^Wild, vile thing.

A Hero Three Ways

Raised By Chaos

Sculpted by hardship
Darkness reveals …my true light
Weight is my weapon.

Always Altruistic

Rising for duty;
Upholding obligations,
Over & over…


Gifted. “Champion,”
the masses roar. The winner,
holding quite the hand.
Light House Jan 2017
Be happy with 9 out of 10.
For 90 percent is a helluva lot...

But for him 9 out of 10 just wasn't exactly enough...
For he wanted, included, the difference: the remaining 1.
...10/10, every time.
Light House Feb 2017
She danced with dragons; tangoed
into the night with 'em
..till she was devoured.  In pieces,
she drowned, in one's belly ..beneath.
Legend goes... she was either dragged up
or swam up, all on her own, up to dizzying degrees.
...Says she touched ground again, as one of them:
the dragon's descendant, now ...the Keeper of the Phoenix Tree.

Dipped in defiance, dripping wishes, chance, & dreams...
the dragoon stands.  Her name: Autumn 9Leaves.
In the works.  Warming up my mind.  Took a leisurely day, if you will.
Light House Jun 2019
"Life takes us to strange places,
much like a journey through space does.
But, it is gravity bringing us back
when life, for whatever reason, rushes us along...
one too many paces."

His eyes opened.  His dreams ...faded.
Consciousness set in, & once again caged them.
Light all around him, & still... his pupils dilated:
his soul starved.  For, eons ago it suckled at the ****
of something breathtaking; eons ago it mounted something amazing.  Upon its birth, with this very thing, it impaled & mated.  &, now... the two are separated; he was safe, yes, but, his mouth
missed the nectarous milk that once dripped from her breast.
Started thinking about an older piece of mine, The Hollow & the Harbor.
I guess this would be following that piece, although I have not written much down.  It is later than I would like it to be & I have work tomorrow.  This has inspired me to post a bit more though & continue with some of the work I have already written.  I may be moving platforms soon.  I am not sure.  I am at least going to expand my social media accounts & see what follows.  Work has been busy & I may not have posted much, but I have been taking notes & thinking about writing every day.  All my love all.
Light House Aug 2016
Understanding is accepting.
Light House Feb 2017
We don't have to **** each other.
We don't have to harm one another.
Time already guarantees depreciation over time.
Light House Jun 2017
Chaos* is not bad ...or evil.
It is ignorant.
It is... naive.
Light House Jul 2017
A white dove ...dipped... in bitter, dark chocolate sauce.
Light House May 2016
"I am sorry that I am not stronger..." he said, disappointed in himself his actions.

"You ran to the edge of the world. You are strong. This is only exhaustion speaking!" she screamed at him his naivety.

"It means absolutely nothing if I cannot hold my composure," he solemnly concluded aloud.

"No one else agreed. No one else even considered it. Please... it is only exhaustion," she quietly stated.

"Then shame on me ...for allowing myself to exhaust like this."

"No," she exclaimed. "That is what makes you strong."
Light House Oct 2017
Up is down...
..& down is up.
But--- Here, here!
Raise your glass, raise your cup.
Nothing has changed.
'Tis only the words...
that need to be ..redefined & rediscussed.

Everyone is a little unhinged, here.  We have to be.
If you want to fly, you will have to fall.  If you want to fly...
you will have trust.
Raw.  Culmination of a long day at an interesting job, as well as thoughts on being the mad hatter for Halloween.  I am faded.  Goodnight, all.  Will go over this weekend, as well as try & be more active.  Yawn.  Zzz.
Light House Feb 2017
Ground Control, are you there?
It seems I've lost myself out here;
I'm not sure where I am, once again.
Light House Jun 2017
My first allegiance is to the one I support.
At Finch Inc. ---- each agent ...has one.

My group offers physical & emotional protection: the promotion
of well-being.  Additionally, we uphold integrity & vow to act responsibly, & practice in accordance with regards to privacy
& all matters of confidentiality.

We strike with justice, ushering in fairness & equality.
We uphold ...respect.

Here, at Finch Inc., we are more than agents....
...We are.... advocates.
Musing.  Nonsense.
Light House May 2016
Hearts break;
dreams do die.

Goodbyes can be h(e)ard.
But, we can fare all of this, quite well.
                                                         ­                                Dreams have died,
                                                           ­                                but for now -
                                                               ­                                              I am awake.
Light House Apr 2016
Wet, melting --warm-- ice:
Wriggling pulses ~~~~~~~ thermal heat'~'~'~'~'~
Spirited. **Warm chills.
Light House Jun 2018
I'm not ready ----not yet.
I have too much to do; &, now...
  ...I know how to do it all.
Light House Mar 2017
It is said that she dreams of me.
If this is correct... then there is
nothing more I can ask of her....
Although, my demands ...are far from thin.
For it to be known ....that someone... ...dreamsSZzz..  ...of me:
It is almost too much, but
at the end of the long night -
it feels as though like...
..that is exactly what I want...
In the works.
Light House Jan 2017
Clinging for dear~life,
like some worn-flag-in-the-wind...
Fraying~ends ..atop some ship-within-the-sea...
The mark-of-something-sworn ---- hung,
raised-for-eyes-to-see...  Holding-on,
white-knuckle-tight, dearly clenching
the-main-topmast the-peak-of-the-pole..
..shredded, but ..not-to-bits ..for
was only-worn...

Like her-hair-in-the-wind..
...waved-freely -- atop their ship --
....clinging ~~ ~ ~..his-soul.  Sentenced to sail,
together, forever...  The two, however,
would-gladly-pay.. this toll.  & so, they carried-out
their-punishment... ..So the two... like their-flag,
his soul.. ...Never ..did either ..ever...  ...w e a t h e r ...or
w e  a     r-- ..through----                             Then...
..could-be-heard infant’s-coo;
just like-a-dove ..they were assured
of what they always knew..  that they would...
...That they had.. ...made it through....
Sorry nothing is italicized.  Will come back and edit this along with several others later.  My apologies for my lack of activity as of late.  I have been so consumed with selfish things, but with things that are also lovely & beautiful.  I apologize if my personal life has tarnished my reputation among all of you.

All my love,

Light House Apr 2016
Aging is lonely
- no matter how many friends or family members you have.
Light House Jan 2017
Be like... water ..or cotton

----& B R E A T H E,
mov--ing, as a cloud: free.
taking a break in between work & a few other things.
all my love.


**Appreciate the inspiration.
Light House Jul 2017
Fist made.  Arm readied.  Eyes raised.
His shoulder cocked..
& there it all stood -- within his sights --
...his bullseye: The World.

All a boy would ever ask for, or could...
now, on a haystack, atop a horizon: His Target
-- now -- before him.  His sails... now--
completely unfurled.  But, rather huff & puff ~~
with winds all-a-swirl ...rather bellow & exhale
his force forth, he inhaled once more, then walked away.

He was later found his room, atop his bed,
covered in feathers, punching his pillows-- not
to the beat of his anger, but to the beat of cellos.
The air was fresh & smelled sweet, even,
like vanilla-scented candles.  There were no stains;
there was no blood.  There was neither dirt, nor mud.
Although he was mad ...although he was really letting
his pillows have it ...he was no longer so; &, he was no longer sad.

He was letting it all out,
as he was told to do so growing up.
"Never bottle yourself," he could hear
his mother's words being whispered in his ear,
as the rest of his stress, anxieties, & fears
were beaten up into a whip comprised of marshmallow & fluff,
till he himself mellowed out from that of a gorilla or black widow
to something calmer, but stronger-- to that of an armored, easygoing armadillo.

The air settled.  The feathers fell ...still.
There had been no victims, besides the game killed
& used... to make the inside of his pillow.
He had channeled himself, & now, rather smell
something bitter or copper, he collapsed where he rests
-- soothed -- smelling nothing, still, but vanilla.
Rough. Raw.  Was going to dedicate more time, but....  Well for now I am putting this one down.  I hope you all are well.  Life is weird. no?  Just trying to figure myself out like the rest of you lovely people.  All my love.
Light House Nov 2016

but the moment,
       the artist,
is finally allowed
to step back,
& view
        their life's work.
Light House May 2017
For every... right comes
...coupled with

Take ...for example,
the right to free-speech,
& how it im.plies.. taking turns,
messing around in between lessons.
Light House Jun 2016
Away did he drift, as mist.

through gloom of night -
through heat, as rain -
rowing, regardless
of the sudden snowing.
He rowed -
frost-biten & ashen,
under four flags of blackened white,
till the beacon’s brick & fire
faded from his focus,
...from his sight.

        But overgrown it became,       overgrown, with things growing --
                           till things once existing,                so existed            -         as things
breathing & feeling -
& knowing.

Rue first was formed -
the town turned from a tower.
Its torch collected a people -
forming a heart & a center,
expanding passed
the glass
of the lantern,
deep beyond its base,
& out through its steeple.

From outskirts without,
to the middle of within,
formed a nation,
which stood
opposing sin.

Fathered by a son,
the duchy of Rue -
first born of Rain -
legacy of the Queen,
his mother,
Light House Feb 2017
She had asked how he was
& if he was sad...  She implied
he was typically humble & glad.

& then..  thunder cracked...

He became incredibly happy knowing that..
he emanated such an image; he was appreciative
of all the positive energy, throughout tons of negativity
he had somehow managed to spread..
Notes for now.
Light House May 2017
Well ...yet, again... it
I gave all my time;
&, yes ...sure,
I am tired.  But,
for the most part  ....I am... fine.
Light House Apr 2017
If I do not bury my soul...
then what is the point?
Nonsense.  I guess this is goodnight, for tonight.
Light House Aug 2016
When you take action -
you purge yourself -
you shed weight;

lists of ink dry
& flake away.

When you take action,
you are left with nothing,
.... .... .... .... .... .... .... grow
Notes are usually placed here. This is where I will usually mention something about editing this piece later or coming back to it.
Light House Dec 2018
She's the kind of girl you look at & see a future with.
..The kind of girl that makes you forget about the past.
She pulls you into the present.
Light House Feb 2017
I wonder where you are now;
I wonder how you feel
& how, with all of it, you deal..
I try & understand,
till I feel this cringe & know... doesn't matter How.
only that you do...
...which means that
so can I.

I love you ..& I wish that
I never had to say Goodbye I won't.
Light House Jun 2017
Let go: Relinquish your reliance
...of power, punishment, & control.
Light House Oct 2017
On archery:

Upon releasing a drawn bowstring -- without an arrow --
unleashed, stored potential energy will quake about either limb of
the bow; this kind of transference is known as a dry fire,
& can rage on till the bow shatters.

Dry fires occur when there is no place to send the bottled-force,
which would have been launched 3-- sent off ----> had an arrow
been set, nocked, & shot.

Without room to escape.. most bows' limbs crack & break;
even, if they do not -- with integrity so shook -- those bows
that do survive ..are never quite the same.
Light House Sep 2017
You cannot lose it, if you are conscious or aware of it..
Light House Nov 2017
Upon a rainbow bridge,
atop a line between..
on the border of... reality & dreams.
Light House Jan 2017
He said that it's a “mindset."

..He did not say
that a mindset happens overnight.
..He did not say
that a mindset happens by midnight.
..He did not say
that a mindset would happen instantly.
..He did not say
that this mindset would happen by magic.
He never said any of this...
He only said,

“It is a mindset, Tiger,” as he pointed to his heart, tapping twice.
Light House Jun 2017
I have yet to find what I am searching for...
I have yet to recognize what I am in need of...
I have yet to find out... what
I... want.
I have yet... to learn,
Who & What
I am;

I have yet to discover
I am made of.
I have yet to conclude ...all
I can do: All...
I am capable ...of.
I have yet to conclude
a lot; I have yet
to understand... myself.
rough copy
Light House Jan 2017
Realizing that she was not ..with him,
that he was truly alone, ..that he held
not the hand of something-winged-)( -
that instead, that which he grasped..
was as heavy as stone - some substance..
a combination of something innocent & -wicked,
of something fair & false...  His perception began to spin,
once again, & then, just like that - he found himself-lost.
Clear as day, bare, upon himself-the-shore -- essence laid in sand --
below the landscaping of his-bone.

“They will always lie.. try to kite you outside...” & onward & so went his mind...

Forever, ..inside - he wanted to hide, for he now found himself to be that kite...
to be that carrot, which he saw before him being dangled.
That trophy he once held over his head - he now was, for the trophy was him,
as he felt his hand dwindle down to a finger, something eclipsing;
the width of his form now-narrowing. The stuff of his soul started to rust & corrode;
the fabric between him & the plane grew thin, as he sank & stretched material -
fibers supporting him.  Slowly... yet even so, still - descending... deteriorating,
along the way.  Deeply... yet even so, declining into depths as dark as space,
aboard a custom-elevator - fit for a-specific-two..  He clenched tightly,
like something precious; ‘twas as if it was some overriding-ring, this hefty,

If he was Light, then it all made sense,
for it is in this way, only, which light can dim..
The price for a sip from his neck only deflated, not within..
the markets of the public, but within the heart of the one
whom he thought he had mated;

& so he fell, impaling dark-mist & clouds.
He had fallen before, but into-worlds; this time
he appeared to fall through obsidian-skies,
downward, into the grounds-of-hell, snug-through
its bowels, & out the backside.  The devil had found him,
& now reeled him in; a master fisherman.  An artisan;
the art of stealing-g--g.... souls, of eating gritty-slivers-of-trust,
of swallowing ..whOle ..the grains-of-time & lives of men.

He descended toward this globe-of-scalding-frost,
& yet again, he fell ..almost-blindly lost.

He barreled toward this planet...
as a comet or something like that,
burning from some fire - fired-down, enslaved not to discover, but to plunder...
as light, to narrow itself, to submit to that which now constricts, land,
& drive right-through the pit-of-it ---- come out the other side, still alive...
still breathing...still together & intact, as something ...revived, or new...
eligible... enrolled to be a phoenix ~ to love, lose... & die..
to burst-apart, realign.... to turn-a-descent ..into a rise,
to soar as something only-thought-to-have-been-lost ..tacking-wind,
something prehistoric -- or astoundingly scientific -- as something fictional...
roaming the deserts of non-fiction.. as something nonexistent, none-the-less
existing in existence.. as something none-believe... something make-believe,
...fake a Real.. cruel, place    ...with a cause & a voice, as something indefinitely-destroyed....
..yet infinitely -- now-once-again -- remade.
Will come back and edit the lines later.  Sorry they transferred improperly.
Light House Feb 2016
A letter

   from Lynn,

                I have to go away for some time.
                You all be kind to each other.
                (Insert a beaming smile, right here),

                                                                ­   Lynn

She sacrificed, so that others could see,
as death displayed consequence of (in)action.

And, in another world -
beyond-eons away -
across some strange parallel spectrum,
like a nearly identical, neighboring cello string --

     they digested his dark meat,
     as they warred over & for his whitest,
     purest parts.

But, their sacrifice lessened no ire.
It brought about no rain.
Neither did it douse fire,
nor did it break chain.

Ourselves laid out -
  not for celebration, of some materialistic-unity;
  not to accompany the rise, of some grey-scale god-shrine.

          ourselves outstretched,
           openly orbiting others,
            overthrown by oceans of odysseys  
                  over & over & over & over & over & over...  
   the predecessor(s),
    the foreshadow(ings),
     the preface(s),
       of something(or things)

                    ...f   a   r grander --

-- a new god,
    a revealed god
     (a) true God.

         born in a,
           ****** spring,

Ourselves laid out -
         & dying -

     but I do hope...
              I do expect..
    & desire for you to know -
    -- for you to feel --
                               ...understand -

                                                       that I do love you.
Light House Jan 2017
You are* aloe to my mental lips.
Metaphors remove your lace,
reveal your hips, & turn you
into my own personal brand of chapstick.
Smothering something sweet
along my visual cortex:
mentally bath-ing in milk,
mentally tast-ing...
of fruit & cream.
Light House Feb 2017
Use your anger.
Use it?
Use it...
What happens when you become angry?
Everything ..speeds up.  ...So use it.
That is the first thing I suggest you do.
You do?
I do....
Get mad!  Say you're angry.  Scream it!
& then....  Hold it!  Don't go red.
...W-i-e-l-d it, instead.  Use it...  & now ...take a step.
& now another....  One more.  Keep going now,
it fuels you.  You're moving...  all on your own
because you've learned to use it.
Look at yourself.   ..You warrior,
freestyle nonsense for now.  brain has been liquefied as of late.  This is an attempt to move some wheels once more.  May go for a walk as well and then sit back down.
Light House Mar 2016
I have been waiting far too long,
For a night like this one,
And yet,
I have no idea what to do,
Till sunrise.
Light House Feb 2016
Once this box opens --
much like Pandora's,
it can neither be closed, nor can the released, be leashed, again.

Heat for you still remains, much like the heat, which steams from the red light in my window.
Light House Feb 2017
Reality can often feel counterfeit or imaginary,
as fantasy can often seem be
ancestrally bound to life.
Just words.
Light House Jul 2016
So she watched the night explode; it lit up. It blazed, but day never came. The two stood at the end of a pier, looking up, ignoring the water. She stood ignoring her thoughts; he stood holding her hand...

Their ice cream cups lie in the trash. His cup, emptied. Hers,
hardly touched; her vanilla ice cream began to melt & drip
down the side of the rusted trash can. The barrel was weather-worn, beach-worn, & looked much like how she felt. The ice cream continued to run, she continued bottling herself.

The fireworks continued bombarding their view.
She felt sick; he felt at peace. He then let go of her hand.
Her shoulders relaxed, her mind breathed a little easier,
...but only for a moment.

He readjusted his arm, wrapping it around her back;
he felt her muscles tense as he did so.

“I’m sorry. Are you all right?” he asked, concerned that he had done something out of line.

She could not even look at him; she continued looking up at the colors.
She might as well have been staring through a kaleidoscope; she was lost.

“Oh, I’m fine,” she said, keeping her composure.

However, her emotions then began to seep, just like her ice cream. Untouched emotions, which she had forced herself to package & freeze,
began to melt -- simultaneously, with her leftover dessert --
leaking all over her rusting-character.

“I’m just a little cold. This show is beautiful, though,” she said, trying to take the spotlight off of her.

She continued, forcing herself into "small talk" -- forcing "small talk" back into her already-stuffed self, into the spaces that became available after emotions fled, seeking a better home - a more stable host.

But her emotions were her own. ...They could not flee.

She then became conscious of what she was doing
...of how she was suffocating herself, with "small talk,"
killing off emotion, which only longed for freedom.

Opened space continued to fill up, as her heart frowned.

He smiled; he was foolish... but relieved.

“Here,” he said, only growing cheerier.

He draped his jacket over her shoulders.

“Better?” he rhetorically asked, looking back up, returning his arm back around her body, holding hers close to his.

Now-bundled, as well as bottled --
there she stood, being held, embraced.

“No.... This is not better. You have to listen to me. This is eating me alive; I am in love   ...with another.”

It felt extraordinary to hear herself say that.  

The fire above ceased, as the sky went black, dimming the pier below. She could not tell if her eyes were open or closed, now. No one would be able to, not in darkness like that.

But truthfully, it did not matter. Sight had no say here; it was not needed. She felt free -- released, like her emotions had wished for.
For a moment, no one else's feelings mattered. Only hers did...

But only for a moment...
till she opened her eyes.

Her head was still tilted back. She was still staring straight up
at the scorching ceiling, which looked back at her, lighting up her face. Shine danced upon her cheeks & built up behind her eyes.

But she ignored those cries;
she ignored her emotions ...her cries
...her thoughts ...herself.

“Much better,” she said aloud,
as she watched the night burn into a finale.

It felt like this night would last forever.


It felt like this night
would last forever
---- Immersed,
was he, in heartbreak.

              The gallon of ice
              cream (of vanilla) - in his
freezer, iced over.

              His heart began to
    burn. The temperature dropped;
               he had turned it down.


Ice met fire, in
a space in between, a dream
& reality.

Steam rose up from the
space, cooling as it surfaced.
It then fell, as rain ----

from the clouds.

                                   It only rained there --
                                   upon them - upon her & him.

Ashes from fiery pasts mattered not,
                                    at least not to these two.
Ashes only bleached paths,
                                     leading to their intersection +
                                     just as ashes are currently
bleaching paths for,
*the woman who watched the sky burn &
                                                                ­    the man who froze himself over.
Still going through this, but here is something for now.
Light House Jul 2016
"Do you or do you not
   have a person or corpse
     in there?
       Are you (a)lone(ly)?"

                                                  ­"It's really hard to tell these days.
                                                           ­          These days, I can rarely
                                                          ­               keep track of my mind."
no idea, just expelling energy & recording something to come back to.
Light House Feb 2017
Center-stage in the sky
stands a thief:
at the end of a stroll, the end of a line, he himself cast --
with a rod, he himself stole.

Highs & lows reacquainted, then humidity rose..!
His lungs began to fill, as his mind only longed to downpour.

Emotion would soon turn & drizzle,
through an instrument he
held in both of his hands.
...A violin he could not resist
to raise.. up to his chin:
Two magnets pulling at each other
till his jaw & its lower half kissed.
This violin was his. ‘Twas not his captive.
Neither was it lifted, nor abstracted.

His eyes: now up-close to its face & gloss.
His exhale fogging the polish, as his gaze
then crossed its bridge, streaming up,
upon its tracks, tracing its strings to length the top of its neck.
& then back down again, along
its curves to its womb.

Outlining its figure,
coloring it in - with potential -
to not only make sound,
but also sing,
& w/ body, from a body
w/ emotion & soul...
from understanding & strength,
in a mind aware of the toll.

He would soon speak through her ----
Words through his chest. & bury his heart,
in place of bodies & lead.

“Arco,” a voice then said.

He lifted his bow,
then readily placed it
across its throat,
just below its head;

but, only for a moment,
before the violin’s strings bled.

in tempo with the storm, with
a voice, which cracked like a whip,
off the roof of its mouth.
His wrist, the bow:
extensions of...
all converging
into ..a tongue.

So it sang....

as he was happy,
& it wept when he cried.
It prayed, as he pleaded,
& denounced disillusion
as truths slunk in,
as its song seeped
out from the bowed strings.
in the works. (Heavily in the works.)
currently Part 2 of 3 parts.  The other are not yet posted.  Apologies.
May end up reposting this after major edits.
Light House Jun 2016
Piano keys were then struck,
as if pressed by jagged
fingers of lightning; the notes resounded ~ lingering ....echoing,
like silent flashes
striking down, in the backdrop.
Drums soon followed, rolling-in like thunder,
keeping an accurate count ---- bo o o oming ----
    making the couple known.

The tempestuous duo
became a trio though -

as in walked
another member,
    as memory rushed in,
        paving an entrance,
    for this player conveying
  temperance  -
for this player joining

             the tempest.

                                   In this sky-of-a-stage

                                              strolls ~



....A thief at the end of a line,        which he himself had cast --
                                                          -- at the end of one of his own
                                                                       self-devised tangents -
                        ...reeling in, the fruits
                                                     of his
                 self-fulfilled prophecy.

Highs & lows reacquainted,
humidity rose ----
His lungs began to fill,
& his mind only longed to downpour.
Emotion would soon turn & drizzle
via his cloud-of-a-heart --
an instrument held

...a violin,
which he could not resist
to raise up
to his chin -
like two magnets
pulling at each other
till they ki...
....they kissed.

His eyes now so close to its polished face, to that glossy body... which he fogged, with each warm exhale.

His gaze crossing its bridge, streaming just up & over ---- tracing its strings,
                                                                                                  to length --
                                                                                     to the top of its neck....

                                            & then back down,
                                               to its womb.
His eyes,
like invisible hands -
running, grazing gently,
gliding up & down
her curves,

outlining its figure,
coloring her in,
with potential - to not only make sound,
but also,
to sing.

with body, from a body
                            with emotion & soul -
from understanding & strength,
in a mind,
                aware of the toll.

He would soon speak through her ----
burying his heart, while disentangling his head.

“Arco,” a voice then said.

He lifted his bow,
then readily placed it
across its throat,
while deftly holding its head,

             but only
         for a moment,

                               before the violin’s strings bled --

in tempo with the storm,
in tempo --
fear, violence, & bloodshed,

with a voice that
cracked like a whip,
off its roof,
from its tongue.

So it sung,

as he was happy,
& wept when he cried.
It prayed, as he pleaded,
& denounced disillusion -- with him --
alongside of him - from within him- through him
preserving him from decay
& disease, & downfall --
caught by those downwind
to ---

lies ---- ----

Worshipping all that is true,

laying with woman & man,
                                       as human,
looking past gender,
& color - with all of its trivial hues -

reaching out
                                                    ---- to other worlds,

                                                                                  & undiscovered bodies,
to parents of thought, concept, & idea,
to the makers of tools --
to even the differing instruments -- even those without strings,
to the doers, to those whom make happen ---- all seemingly impossible things.

The clouds parted
when he first fell,
like opened windows.

Now -
they gathered, accumulated;
they concentrated,
like hardening concrete or cement.

It was the abstract, which brought him to this place.
It was the abstract, which brought him back.

But it would be the actual ...the concrete, which would allow him to leave. It would not bring him home, but it would bring him to where he needed to be. He never did have it in him - to challenge or argue such duties. He accepted this, trusting himself, as he had accepted himself, as he re-accepted himself, on stage once again, after re-equipping himself, with recalled assets.

He collected himself, piece by piece, re-collecting himself -
his moments for reflection ending, upon recollection of his past - of his pain.
It overtook him, but did not overweigh him.

As he was once permeated - he was now permeating the audience - injecting it, with rain.

The clouds had further amassed, & thus began to pour --
to shower down -- as he took flight & fell --
,,,, ,,,, ,,,, ,,,, ,,,, ,,,, ,,,, ,,,,
,,,,    ,,, , , ,,,  ,, ,,,, ,,, ,,,,
,, ,, ,, ,,,, ,, ,, ,,, ,, , ,, ,, ,
,, ,, , ,, ,, , ,, ,,, ,, ,,, ,,,,
,,, ,,,,, ,, ,, , ,, , ,,, ,,, ,,
,,, ,, ,, , ,, , , ,  , ,, ,, ,,
,, ,,, ,, ,,, ,,, , , ,,, ,, , ,
-- through the
with lightning & its roar.
Light House Mar 2017
"A hunter gets the most from its prey
..from the meat ..when it is happy,
when it does not know that it is being hunted:
'Within a natural environment.'  ----Whether that be
as... a worker bee or warrior, lying in a forest,
in some untouched grass, running up a countryside,
or up & about, acting like a child, self-declaring itself
a king or, even, a prince. running amok: ruling, controlling...
yet destroying, defiling... the ecosystem & habitat,
civilizing, yet keeping true to its roots... an animal.. in the wild.

Whatever you have to do... or allow...
Whether you have to turn a blind eye
or not...  ----Just do it.  Keep them well;
shake hands with such deceptive sin,
& push the rest aside.

This is how you will get the most out of them
..the most essence, the highest quality, that is.
You must ensure that they thrive.."

He finished up ...then went quiet;
his eyes narrowed as he focused,
& reached into that quiver of his.

"Be.  Ver-Y.  Qui-Et," his mouth read;
but, not one sound ...escaped his lips.
Precise & calculated: reasons why this...
bowman has never missed.

The whole wood hushed -- fell silent -
as I crouched in the middle of the suspense,
next to this macilent ...possibly maleficent.. archer, pulling ---)-
back on some fine string, readied & aimed ours truly..
..the Pixie Prince.
Related to some works I suppose.
Stepping away for a bit, as usual.
Light House Aug 2016
...I am.

Love me...
Hate me...

If from afar, it does not matter
because you do not exist to me.

You have both my love & hate, however --
at times -- if only by association.

For as you are innocent by...
you are also guilty by

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