Let others strive to win a bay wreath crown,
Since nothing gold can stay that gilded is
With fool's gold; let them strive while I write down
What rust cannot corrupt for being His.  
Worldly esteem awaits the faithless great
Devoted to the craft of writing words,
The very words the Lord will uncreate
For glorifying not the Lord of lords.
The contest that I'm in's a different one:
To write the words predestined still to live
For being valued by the perfect Son
Of Father God, to whom these words I give.  
In short, I strive to win (this writer warns
The other pens) from Christ a crown of thorns.

A monster made of flesh and bone
               And blood and skin,
A lump of dust, a cup of groan,
               A twist of sin,—

A monster that's a man and beast,
               I live in death:
I'll live in death till ceases, deceased,
               My deadly breath.

O beauty in my horizon
You look at me like a thousand days
we've spent together, or
longer still.
You take pride in our gaze together.
You are the answer
to my every male instinct.
And there you recline,
as if you are made of starlight,
as if you've swallowed the moon.
Your neck has no point save
regarding me.
You are intent on setting
me aflame with desire for you.
My body aches to keep
its inner mojo.
Yet you snake around
my neck and seep into
my testicles.
You say "this is a test".
"For what?"
"You know" she replies.
"A test for me" she gives a second answer.
"To see if you can come on my star destroyer"
"Where does that lead?" I ask.
"To another time."
"A time when you're free."
Then Christ's neck holds me:
"Can you pray with Me, and stay resolute?"

Sigh.
Another night
that I might not know my pillow.

Like Christ I was betrayed by a kiss
The best kiss I ever wasted
The one delayed with a wish
The last I never tasted
Twas the sublime decline of the un-divine find from the mine within my mind
My new muse fused with pure white beacons of truth;
It was love.
It is love.
It will always be love.
Until the bodhisattva’s of bohemia are free to leave in peace,
Until the unbloomed seek what their enlightened prophets beseech.
When the the ****** find nirvana by practice of kinder hearted karma
Then and only then the world will know peace

The tree of life is watered with her tears
Who mourns the Word of Truth denied by fools.
She weeps amid the sounds of jests and jeers:
While mockers mock she sheds her sorrow's jewels.
Her jewels return to dust whence all jewels come.
Rivers of flawless tears run rapid, fed
By bottomless wells of grief; the ****** scrum
Disgracefully disports before the dead.
A bleeding heart and broken, her heart's quake
Trembles the earth and splits it; streams of blood
Divine and purest tears into a lake
Puddle and pool with sorrow, dust, and mud.
Within her heart a sea of bitterness swells.
Her grief, the ocean's roar, resounds in shells.

The inner circle of the big candle is in the center,
The big candle is the candle light of The Christ.
This light is the flame; that light's the outward candles of the circle; they are the students of The Christ and their light shines into the darkness,
The outward darkness can't overcome this small; but strong light,
There is no inner darkness with this inner Christ flame in the students of The Christ,
The darkness tried to overcome this great candle light, but the light is everlasting,
The thirteen lights of Gnosis can't be overcome, because thirteen is the number of perfect unity,
The Christ candle light shines into the darkened hearts of humanity,
The Christ candle light shines into the darkened hearts of humanity,
The Christ candle light shines into the darkened hearts of humanity.