Hidden in the center
Whole black flies
Their trembles linger
Until I cry

Apollo’s chariot rests
below the horizon’s layers
yellow, pink, and blue.
Breathing in the sunset,
night’s chill takes the air
with chirping crickets
hooting owls
and starlike fire flies.

As an arrow flies throughout the sky,
it remembers its journey.
How it was
crafted,
Stored,
readied,
and launched.
He remembers the days where all he did was sit and think,
where he wished to be free.
Now that he is free he realizes that all is not how he dreamed.
He was heading towards a target,
one that he did not ever dream about.
He was going too fast.
All he cared for was life as it was,
but now as he flies through the sky,
breaking the air,
he realizes he wasn’t ready.

After John Prine:
“There's flies in the kitchen,
I can hear 'em there buzzing,
And I ain't done nothing since I woke up today”

Mr. John Prine

                       <£>

There's flies in the kitchen,
all around my eyes and head,
they’re just gossiping bout me,
why most mornings
I’m still laying in bed
at almost near
noon-time, why too, them
angels and their a-fluttering wings,
a-flapping, still hanging around,
when they’re so far from home

truth be told, I kinda like new combinations,
the musical vibes, magic incantations,
boogie woogie, fuzzy buzzy eyelash sounds,
bluesy background harmonies against the
harps them angel wings are playing,
I’m getting every note writ down so,

I can play it well on the morrow, on my
following them higher up, all the ways up
on that glowing shining stairway to heaven,
guarantee-****-teeing entrance through the
pearly gates for the flies and a lazy, no-account
worthless S.O.B. like me

I left some dead fruit
  By the window ledge
In the hopes fruitflies
Would sprout and break free

  their torrid wings from the grapevine roots.

Instead, all I got was a smelly room

And grapes that hissed dissapointedly
As they crackled inward in the background
(rotting flesh now too heavy
to carry on stiffupperlipped).

How sunny it is outside. How much

  Sunnier the weatherman says it'll be
tomorrow. Atleast, I think with my last thought
Of the day,

Atleast I'll remember to get fresh fruit tomorrow.

orchids, three days in the vase,
bent-stemmed and dropped heads hung;
the pollens filter the tabletop with
a coughed out dust across which
noon shade, interrupted by light, grows.
The shrinking water has stained the glass
to darken into a pool of brass and stench.
Above the vase a craze of tiny flies hover
like a troubled thought in a comic strip.

Do not show me your tears
Diamond are your tears
If I have a case
Surely I will gather in cases

Do not blame yours
We are not responsible for fate
And the time will moderate

Do not let your tears
Down
As my wind fellows
So will do all members

The rainbow appears at your face
Gathering different colors
Closing all blossoms
The sun flies
As she says
There will not two suns
In the same place

The echos are burning through the valley at dawn.
The voices are muffled but seep out through the calm.
They are asking for forgiveness they beg for a change.
They wonder if we will take them from the weight of the blame.

Who are you deceivers, from where do you hail?
Why did your creator build you to fail?

The voices speak of rebellion that creeps in the night.
Who will bound through the darkness and burst in to the light.
The bringers of disease, talkers of fame.
They beat us to submission in the dirt of the plains.

The savages you are that hail from the earth.
Created form dust, molded in dirt.

The master speaks of the bridges he's burnt from the streams.
Ignited by torches who were ripped from the trees.
The builder of fires, the polluter of dreams.
The layers of waste are bursting from the seams.

Retreat to the darkness, and be banished from earth.
Leave it all in vain, your birth was a curse.

The moon returns again rising through the sky in the night.
Reflecting its azure light in to the eyes of the flies in flight.
Take us now to shelter, remove us from this vice.
On the painful journey away from this sacrifice.

The winter comes
The frog is happy
She becomes AS the giant

Chasing the tiger
Who searched for a small hole
Made by a small ant
Digging deepest womb of the mount
He vibrated and CHURM OUT THE BUG
HE CARRIED THAT CLOUD

He threw it and overlapped
The cloud got anger
She cried, cried
The rains downed
As  the tears were there
It revolted and made a fact

The flies spread their wings
The wings prevented the sun from getting up
The sun cried
The waves blew up
Making the fishes in rows
Demanding the barghout to nip
The moon who planned to the sun
The moon cried
The winds were up
The date trees threw their date over the birds
Who drew the Thorne from the sun
They gave the throne  to mum
My mum, yours are the queen
We must be their knights