The blanket of space, where never rased so "placees after hours" you listen the blank taste settles there hate.

Conflate, the reams of the varibles.

Disagree, with the hammer of dawn.

Dust mist the area.

Immunity, was parched the thrist it needed a pass to enter with grain on hands you go to your converters.

The build began, its safety features include "secrete safe" house concepts.

So don't be silly or nodding because the scale use there own grips.

The yard puzzles most as Un seen.

Cars pass by yet no one sees the area.

How was this able to occur none will know.

Many men and women, praise there skills made in full detail.

Don't look away as the sun will change its pace more than just metaphorically.

Day after day the music, was played to the person of high grade, sheilds.

As shadow's came we light his path or aura enegy.

Disburst there attempts with tricky special ops.

Codes were recited, to open the plasma coil and the power was as is.

Above* the words read Care Is To Be Used!

Misinformation, spell to Earth, as Kings and Knight, change there views and faces.

Here as rain starts pain grew and Plains redone.

Illicit, there plains where yet with grim details Un masked.

Poker hands faces look easy.

Oh, dear lord it is that of pity.

Black ships and twister of reality.

Shade there (Egos) and stain there display.

Decate, as we go to the other room he begins his home made craft.

Shoulder, heavy as made precession, was resized for the purpose of matter displacement.

I lost my voice
when I forgot
the secret of the craft.
What secret, love, is that?
The written word
not born of mouth,
no mother, none at all,
not even you
Not I?
It’s true,
Yet, can’t escape the draw;
composing with my maw—
So choking on the weight
of all that I have written;
hands are bound behind me
with all that I’ve forgot—
Oh, words that I’ve forgot!
*(It’s only writer’s block.)

you told me I was beautiful and I saw the light in you
But your kisses were all full of lies
And as soon as the sun brightens up your windows , you threw me out of your crafted 'paradise'

Great anguish brings great inspiration.
Words flow from my lips,
Fresh and cool. Trickling ever downward.
My mind never stops rushing and my pen follows suit.

When in times of great happiness I am sent out to sea in my own ideas and hopes.
Words are salty little splashes of ink.
The pen my canoe and the paper my little boat.

Between great sorrow and deep happiness is a desert of contentedness.
No words quench my longing
when words could cleanse the land,
flood my soul.
Thirsty, lost, hopeless,
wandering in dust with no voice.

Art rests inside the vision of creativity
Art comes alive with that interpretation
Art is cultured from craft
Until a masterpiece has evolved

Jl 2016

angel wings shielded my vision as i peeked at you through silky white feathers;

i whispered in a devil voice "i will make you feel what you never imagined--
i hold holy secrets and unholy sins"
i got on my knees for him but god knocked me from grace
(i am a fallen angel tempting sinners, lovers, fathers and hopeless romantics)
cut off my wings
remove your ring
undo the buttons on the stiff white shirt, beg me to fill what was lost on sermons and hymnals 

(moonlight illuminated my naked body)
(i made a deal with the devil while i danced beneath the stars)

come willingly to the edge and fly away with me or
fight my siren song and face the hand of god

Peter was my carpenter
he used only aged old wood
he’d snatched in passing
from passing away places
and neglected or unwanted forms.

Split from first use
he’d choose their resurrection
stripped, planed and straightened
shaved, sanded and shaped
- a re-incarnation - he made

my table, a flat pine oblong
knotted and notched
once blackened wharf wood
planks of purpose
reposed and renewed.

It sits steady in the kitchen
reliable and ready each day
but when I turn my back
or leave for the last time
each night, I wonder if it is there

its four legs held tight by gravity
or, if it moves in any direction
flying, soaring or shuffling
or, is it a negative space, an absence
gone far away forever, like Peter?