As the rain gently falls
The birds continue to sing
I think of the grace I have
All thanks to a mighty king

The trickle of the gutter
A quiet sound but not a mutter
The beauty of it all calms me
Stops my heart from its flutter

Me and my journal
Got those old country blues.
Turns out,
White hot heat
Doesn’t make
for a 'Brown River, Smile'.

So,
    I cried some.

Then bought eggs. And flour.
And sugar. And butter, for cake

    And made one.  

Because young life during hard times
In old country
Isn’t left with much else
to do–

    Just make something beautiful
    And hope to get through.

What intrigues
The flint
To spark a thought?
Is it sadistic?
Is it sympathetic?
Recognizable,
Understandable,
Plausible?
Do you ever
Know enough?
Lost in search for
The heart
Of the matter
Do you truly believe
In this world
You've created?

Leaves fell
amidst snow's descent
Leaves grew
under sun's ascent
Times changed
and memories faded
Times changed
and I grew jaded

I was always concerned
am I left behind
will I yet grow more
is the deadline due
when will she get here
I am so **** late
I am so fed up
there's so much on my plate

I blew a fuse
my bell was rung
my clock ran out
there loads the gun
but before I go
I ask of time
what is your name
what have I done?

A gentle touch
an eve of peace
a staircase looms
a wreath of fleece
adorns me now
I make a vow
to see what waits
'pon yonder bow
it held my hand
and took me hence
to arid peak
to distant land
and there I saw them
low and weary
stooping dreary
sorrowed
teary

I said can't they see!
They need but wait
for their sorrows will end
by time it will be sate
and satan's hold
his clutch will loose
they shall be free
like airborne goose
but I saw myself then
like roast on the table
Thanksgiving dinner
feast for the sinner
of course they're broken
of course they don't know
because time waits for no man
man waits for time...

Another journey
to far-flung ages
where machines roam free
and lords are sages
people commune
in a peace distilled
from forgotten wars
from absence of pills
I saw them congregate
like ants in a colony
working in unison
for each other's grace
and there was a feeling
like waking from dreaming
how timeless it all was
where peace was manifest

But just like that
I was pulled from the panacea
from the vision of victory
from the dawn of destiny
a saw pain as prophecy
I saw pleasure as peasantry
I saw passion as poetry
I saw power as illusion
I saw my struggles as choice
I saw my misery as vice
I saw my vices as voices
voting down my ambitions
undermining my plans
I then strove for strength
I then fought for freedom
I then stood for salvation
I found the purpose I'd always run from
and it was then
that I heard the voice of time

It said you are my name
and you shall wait no longer
for you wait for no man
you are man no more
you are an agent of change
and the future is yours!

Eyes that would word a painter' creation. All the beauty
upon the ends of Earth. Framed; hanging on invisible
wires of worlds.

He has glazed my eyes, hanging still in life' chaos.
Looking to all that was done, through a window view of insight.
His words made planets, stars, moon, and sun. So delight
deep of his reverence.
            
Of a cunning hand of artistic art. Set apart to it's part.

instrumental
dreamer

time free
to sight see

wide
down
corybantic
oval
perimeter
shedding
tiers

in a garden
of angels
sprinkled
with pine cones
at the border of
void and Vaud

cantons
of meltwater cirque
les petites Fauconnières
the inner basin
of my outer reaches

I am
your
visitor
I am
your
audience

let's
stop
for snow
and polar cap
songs
where things
are still run by the natural elements
instrumental dreamer
not by algorithms
not by advancement

Creation: spirits

blowing bodies out of flesh --


and bottling themselves.