The pain awakes deep in my belly
Making me want to scream at top of my lungs,
Reap and tear the flesh off my bones,
Dragging all insides on the outside

Now that I’m lying dead and broken,
Blood, **** and liquids of my body
Fill my throat, go into my nose and into my eyes,
Making me choke on them in pre-death convulsions

And so I’m dead, I depart my sinful body,
Watching angels coming for me from above,
Reaching with their shining hands for my soul
Only demons are faster, their hands are burning fire,
And before I realize it, I’ve already been dragged into hell, chained and cursed for eternity

Hear me and listen well,
Far Far from Heaven have you fell,
On wings, torn and strewn,
Slowly but surely, together again they can be sewn,
And back up in the Heaven you shall fly,
With all the Angels in the sky

My biggest fear is the day I die
Not because I’m afraid of dying
In fact, I’d give anything for the sweet release of death right now
To swoop me in its arms and take me far, far, away from this horrible world we call life
It is because I’m afraid that when I die, you’ll find someone else to love
Some may call it selfish, but I think true and everlasting love is the one that never dies
Even if the person does
I can just imagine waiting at the gates of heaven for you
For what seems like an eternity
Because that’s how it feels to be away from you, my love
But what happens when you finally arrive, but with another woman?
To realize that you moved on
To feel my heart shattering as I watch you enter the gates of heaven with her
And not me
And then
To have to live in eternity
Watching you with her
And not me
To have all the angels rejoicing
In the land of milk and honey
In paradise
Without me
They say everything in heaven is perfect,
and without suffering
But what will I do
When you walk into paradise
With her
And not me

Jump....
Off this cliff.

Silent voices whisper

Just reach,
Farther,
Below.

Touch the river...

Jump.

Water is blue.
And hate is as black
As love.

Angels don’t exist...
Anymore,

You clipped all their wings.

And if I jump
Now,

I won’t fly..
I’ll fall.

I put my hand in the hand of the man from galilee

Or I thought I did, I imagined he would walk with me
and talk with me

and help me fill the darkness behind my eyes,
which i think may have been blind, at one time,

I have memories like that guy, Gold-something
color maybe, Goldfarv? Bloom. Right, my augmentatious savant
looked it up and I sorted what I recalled

Google The Global Brain, where he named a kind of
category of knowability. Memes, he called them.

And I thought, memes mean something more,
not Dawkins's, nor Bloom's, but
these, heteromemes bubbling out my belly button,
look real close.

Fractally featureless by the time a clock could have been imagined,

the point of the story was made, and there is no end in sight.

Pop. Another apocalypse bubble eclipsed by mortality. Whaddyaknow?

What remains when a bubble pops at a positron level,
after the charge is touched and
the tensionpowerloss collapses the bubble?

You should think you know atoms work, like
not a cloud of super positioning, elect-
tric-magi-tech, touch screen at the quantum accounting point,
not that, but
a bubble, powered, one way or another, with a single charge,
Go, that's it.
What an electron does. It goes,
as soon as any sense can be made of it,
oughtaouta hear
ping. No charge, no bubble, but next sure as...

Hell,
somethi' from nuthin must ahapt one time,
but ya'll take no heed, m'fallin angel droppin' in olfren, tricky hybridbast...

Noah was a tellin' Ham the truth found in wines that moved themselves
aright, slurry tongued, but pisstoff

The idea of somethin' goin' south in a family,
that started up again when
ever Noah started drinkin' old wine, sayin' sbetter'n...

Who told you I was naked?

-- aye, ye know, Noah was drunk,
No excuse, but you know.

Things were said, that maybe were forgotten, after a while,

But those father wounds a man imagines worst
are the one's his son's forgot.

The story being told is complicated. See,
the Bible is a lens,
not a map.

It got me much farther than this, should you ever
visit me.
No,
that's not in the stack,
that card's about as relevant as McLuhan's hair of the dog.

Somethin', ain't it?  All them three meter dishes shrunk down
to the size of a spoon, a teeny weeny spoon, a coke spoon,
like on Miami Vice, back when.

Satellite TV changed the desert, fer sher, but 4g, brohan,

that was the trick.
Future, on demand, where outhouses are still de rigueur.

Before you know it, country kids,
too poor for any but outlaw dreams,
can audit courses at MIT,
if somebody
shows him, it can be done, prove t' him
it works, faith can make things happen,
but
happening is sorta hard to nail down to one thing,
until the very last
Planc-sec.  Astrophysics is part of the metagame, fer sher.
But
there's some stuff that takes some patience,

everything that's old is only old, not rotten.

Olde time religion, at the oldfo'k dayroom,
where the clock runs the whole show.
It's another game show. Saint Bob Barker takes a bow,
and declares the worth of all your eyes behold,

If, if, if you are alucky winner and you arise when I call your name
to come on down
fall on your knees and declare the worth...

pure gamesmanships required here, golf whispers only,
worship, smuch more difficult to aim for than praise.
I agree.
Praise, appraisal, worthyness, worthship, prize,
how do you declare such a thing worthy,

A feeling? What's it worth? Depends. Safe? Priceless. Don't shout.

So we sell walls. We'll be rich and powerful wallbuilding,
citi-zen warriors fed and fattened by those we make
feel safe.

That's the idea. It's worked for years, at least
since
we
capitalized Campbell's bliss and Sagan's billions and billions of stars.

Workers will work for food and a feeling. And Facebook.
They choose, believe what's easiest, they are told,
you are absolutely co-rectallatime, tekayepeel.

There are such wishes being made, on all manner of stars
for happy ever afters. If wishes were asked for, whatif
connecting to the source of haps that are
all happiness can possibly
consist of...
Oh, consist is a sticky, gluten idea stuck in my daily bread.
It's related to resist, desist and the command to stand. Sistere.

This is that bomb, this is a dam buster Jesus H Christ Bomb!

Something's bound on earth to go wrong,
ever since Eve bit that apple, if she'da left that apple on the apple tree
Nah, that ain't how it went down and
songs about it don't change it none.

But, maybe this is me interrupted..
Whatif, nothing is immaterial, as an idea, it can't go wrong,
and Murphy's law, obeyed, is good, all the time.
Ask the pilot. What if,
asking for help helps? Was that a message? A touch by an angel?
Spirit, the idea?
Are you familiar with its role in reality?
Something makes these bubbles spin, y'know.

Ignoring is bliss, nay,
No more,
precisely, nevermore, quotheraven, shall the man who can read
be locked away from all the stories of all the things that
men, wombed and un,
have told and tested for ever, it seems,
when ya stop
striving for perfection and let patience have her way witcha,

whatcha learn can change the world.

Look back. Good news from a far country come our way.

The waves
crash on
the shore
of the eyes,
I wished
to create
worlds with
my mind
that the
lips fail
to convey,
I observe
the drifting
journey,
as the mind
wanders to
the paintings
of metaphysic
nature, where
everlasting
stories are
found, as
I am lost
perpetually
in wonder,
on and on,
I will live
through
another,
as the dew
caressing
the endless
being of now,
the world I
had known
once cursed
me for being
a dreamer,
though I
feared not,
for the heart
of mine,
possessor
of truth,
was never
vulnerable,
tears created
the clouds
I held within
my chest,
where I
float
as the
wings of
thousand
white doves,
the cage has
fallen, I have
risen as the
one who
saw the
light in
others
when they
failed to
have seen
it within
their own
chests,
I am the
bringer
in the
garden
of words,
I am aware of
the unavowed
lost ways of
conversation,
where the
cherry
blossoms
seek the
surrender
of the leaves
within the
deepest parts
of the beautiful
mind, elusive
as the reflection,
wavering as a
chameleon,
even though,
the heaven in
my breath
will never
fade, as the
grace of the
delicate ones,
hidden to them
was the nature
of the imperfections,
forming something
so untouchably
incandescent,
I had seen
the truth,
and soon,
they shall
see it too,
I and them
shall walk
the earth,
soaring
from our
fingertips,
I will hope
they look to
the skies,
and find this
reminiscence,
where the
clouds
ripple,
angels
are near,
I will wish
for them
to see how
these words
I have written
are sacred,
for beauty
lies in
secrecy,
waiting
for you.

“DON’T WORRY ABOUT ME” I scream, I've grown my wings…

I’ve tasted of Love that sang in my veins, a glowing melody rising above the pain, the sinking ache; the surging rage…

“LEAVE ME BE” it echoes throughout the crags, wind buffed skin made smooth by the wear of weather and life.

Standing against the marching of the world, Will towering indomitable; free like the gift it once was.

“COME, CHALLENGERS, TRIALS, TRIBULATION” I am unwavering because anything else would hurt too much, I wouldn’t be able to stand…

accountable, making it all tolerable to my own twisted spirit’s belief.