now is just a thing
we do between birth and death
i am among gods

A thin and somewhat wavering cry
echoed in the banshee breeze
as she beat upon our door with frozen fingers
heralding your birth, you child of storms
a winter babe
the fallen leaf forever restless as he grew
a wailing wind inside to blow you onward
that much is true

Twas wee hours of the morning,
'course she'd come early
she's always been a morning person
yet I never was

so we ushered the morning
in throes of pain and tears
shouts and crying
some of joy, some fear

But as she breathed her first
I found love
and as little hands lay on my chest
I thought,
maybe this morning wasn't so bad

21/11/3

the grass on the hill
speaks nothing until
our ears open with age
and the demons dark will
loses meaning

the soft melody
of piece sends a thrill
to the harbor of will
and causes a self
into being

action a skill learned
from birth to grave
we pay not attention
to continous pain
and we travel

~
gone to earth

left for dead

everything is tickety-boo

forget your iron-on measures

and scuttled installation

your life is a bakery

that cake is like your head

bittersweet

and full of regret

what am I reading these days?

a book across the stars

where dreams in the throes

of giddy aerosol cans

**** the passersby

and sleep against

the exit sign
~

A running stream of consciousness
flows into the meadows
The bright and green made brightest by the sun
Blooms, flowers, bushes and bugs exist together here

When the large hand Death comes
With its dirt, dry fingers twists the stream of the spout off shut

Goodbye to the freshly flowing water, and blooms and flowers
bushes and the bugs
Sweet dreams to sweet consciousness
Forever and always

I occupy this space
unconquered
unclaimed
just a matter of existence

this is where I shall begin
in this pool of life
displaced by so many others
until it is overflowing

I am beyond the gates of birth
released to a wild horizon
don't tame me
I'm exactly who I should be

motherless
this must be just another test
utter less
stuck on the ****** to **** on the other breast
silken milk of the real deal and i feel like an udder mess

motherless

cover this
mist is sick with twisted, i discover less
it's colorless
put with the other gases to suffer and to smother this

motherless