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Hadrian Veska Oct 28
I let the incense burn until morning
As I drift in and out of sleep
The dim glow of candlelight
reflects on polished wood floors  
A calming embrace wrapped in smoke

No one is here but me
And no one but me has ever been
The rooms and the halls lie empty
The bells and the drums sit silent
Having lost even the anticipation of sound

There is an eerie sort of peace
Deep in the back of my mind
Something I feel I should fear
But I cannot myself reason why
And so it fades in the morning with the smoke
Ken Pepiton Sep 2021
Magi always bring Magic, among other
things, Frankincense was given me to give,
some kids bring tobacco.

Sunday, in our world with weeks
and months and years, in constant tension
pulling days from our lives, as gone-by,
but barely acting once in decades
of note, until
daily news of those who did
begins to pile up and tends to overflow
into to story, myth, and history, fit
with screwy prosody
and no practical scheme for rhyme…

all proving, now is after all that,
our access to mind wandering excursing,
excusing your innocence and ignoring
your being not so,
not so innocent, nor
feeble of mind, un exercised in godliness.

Yes, this
is the blessed assurance that we
were not the first to be
Perfectly Normal, Thank you.

------- and, further more

mind wandering is not a wartime pleasure.

Forward Tactical Operations Center,
some where
actual place, a point in time and space,
to you from me,
actively, choosing to rise to the occasion,
and bow to the overall situation,

life is attractive, not repulsive,
knowing is appealing to the best in me,
not the lazy
good for nothing I can be, with no help
from you or any
strange
power not mine to use,

con-sci, come see, came saw, and a we
arose to agree, this might
e
see, esse, e, this might be power, lying idle.

--- balance of power? Ha. Push
comes to shove, and wishes we could
make up a reason
to enjoy today as the final sure thing.

-- it was a darkthonic thought ought shall should

Substrates, strata below, this pliant surface,
gurgle, signaling nothing, save, more or less,
a belch, or a ****, more like,
ew, {cell phone- in a search pattern}
we need not more of that,
what stink think ye we ought celebrate,

buffoon?

Suppose we all know the story behind
or under as we may,
surmise, compromising prized right ness
given up over down,
stand up, fall down, prop up hold down

proper propping
propagate a reason, fit to this season
- autumn, ends the year, winter
- starts next
now
all this de novo knowing, for the price of attention
you may know, not freely,
known, but freely taken as known before, by others
of our kind,

-- I am distracted by a blue jay, on the rock
-- behind the thinker comes
the thought, dragging it's feet, to make clouds of dust,
because,
the dust is there, and does this flying at my desire
to see once, and again, the effect of

me at six, mind wandering on a dry and dusty trail,
-- realizing
confabulatory stories are in fact
"perfectly normal, thank you. A basket of eggs, or a basket
of

air, empty air, no signal, no closing inverted commas.

Have we lost the magic?

---
No listen, ah, and smell,
the bacon, ah, forbidden meat,
smells so good, does it not, smell so good?

It might not **** you, son, but hell of a price
you pay for taking a bite, of some thing
due to it smelling,
so good.

--------- setting, as the propagated
translation of tradition to kab-allah, I say
a wish in time to pre
vent any explosive out burst of gut dispute,

per and may haps rise around me, big
am, we, m'fam… wakes in me a joy,
quite normal,
joy of a grandfather, finishing the faith
a character has developed,
while making, wei true, making wei wu
wu wu of the ever skeptical sepsis sort,
test this
T-cell, is this us? Or is this MERSACOVIDEO
override, through the bluetooth meanies

missing since the Yellow Submarine sunk
in Central Park, c. 1968.

Around the time Dubcek lost to the Commies.
Same season when North Korea got the Pueblo.

The tangled web,
seen in the sunlight topping the eastern wall,
George Harrison, perfect timing
every time I remember, this is real, out there
nearer the edge of my light cone,
from c.1968…

deception, ungrip the gripped fist,
monkey reaching for the fly in the bottle,
that chatters incessantly of having lived before,
monkey fist
feels something sticky,
is it… curious as george, for dammedshore,
a wave
of recognition, there's Waldo,
and Magic, Incorporated, free to reread, and
seed into my grand children,
who are reading the same hard back
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, that
I brought home to their mother after the trip
to Huston, during HP's takeover of Compac,

No, correction, it was after the trip to Denver.
--- sidetrack breadcrumb Quark and metadata
Sunday morning, up early, to the modern equivalent of an outhouse,
I make my morning absolutions, as is my constitutional right requirement,
TODAY, I see evidence of a grandchild, bookmarked, a book I know from quite some time ago...
dorian green May 2021
breathe in incense smoke—
swirling carcinogen,
but not my favorite.
not by far, not when
bruised lungs run in the family.
smolder, smoke, ash, original sin,
a debt i am going to make you watch
me pay. i'm always playing the victim.
i read seduction, i breathe in incense,
to maintain an innocence
i never had. it just feels so religious to self-flagellate.
i speak in tongues and don't make sense,
i try to trace myself through the guilt,
and envy jesus.
at least he had
the nails as reference.
how many times you've done this before
is about the only difference
between being a martyr and deserving it.
Ignited incense
Sandalwood fragrance lingered
Two doves flew up, free


🌿🌿
Slime-God Sep 2020
Ozone like incense.
A brief flash against the dark.
Lightning guides our way.
Jeremie Aug 2020
“Why do you strip me of
what makes me beautiful?
I was tall, graceful and
my form was loved by All.
But now I am naked
clothed only by my longing to return
to that which I was.  
I was met by a flame that
promised me glory and immortality
How could I be such a fool
to believe in such a dream ... “

The Wind replied

“The initiating flames
that kissed your crown
and cleansed you of all form and name
launched you into my loving arms,
so that I may unveil your true essence.
I have not stripped you of your beauty
I have only invited your beauty to become
timeless and eternal.
Your sweet gentle fragrance is now
One with me,
no longer confined and
caged by time and space,
resting solely and fully in the
ancient present.
My child,
Rejoice!
you are free just as I am
unbound, empty and
untethered from this world.. “
Death is the poem of the universe

The thing you lost at your birth , you will find at your death.
Kelsey Banerjee Jun 2020
cheap matches
it took three trips
striking those brittle necks
against the grate.
but when I finally lit
sandalwood incense,
that smoldering scent
calmed my jittery soul,
aching for reprieve
from longing.
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
Let Me Give Her Diamonds
by Michael R. Burch

Let me give her diamonds
for my heart's
sharp edges.

Let me give her roses
for my soul's
thorn.

Let me give her solace
for my words
of treason.

Let the flowering of love
outlast a winter
season.

Let me give her books
for all my lack
of reason.

Let me give her candles
for my lack
of fire.

Let me kindle incense,
for our hearts
require

the breath-fanned
flaming perfume
of desire.

Keywords/Tags: Valentine, gifts, diamonds, roses, books, candles, incense, perfume, desire, love
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