Hades 3h

God took a new set of cards from his shelves,
And he began to shuffle the it
He named it Andres,
The hand pulled out a card which etches
"Life" and placed it at the bottom,
Instantly, the man started to breathe.

He took another card and formed his appearance
Arranging everything from its external points to internal ones;
Once the God was contented with the patterns,
He placed him down the desk which he called it, "earth."
After he secured the last layers of the man,
God let the people take the cards in his newly shuffled ones,
And they placed their own behind.

Most of the cards were fine,
Some cards are were torn apart
Some were beautiful, filled with roses and it's shining,
Some were made of numbers,
Some has vandals of poetry and drawings
Some were made of mechanical parts,
A few ones were made of diamonds and gems,
But Andres noticed that he kept on giving his king of hearts to the Queens,
And none of them ever held it for long.

He then asked God,
"Why am I bad at love?"
And the highest took all the cards that were left behind,
He spread across the table
And explained,
"You can't have everything, Son."

The forest shimmers,     sunshine glows and dims,
Dappled light dancing     with summer colours.

12:30 - 21/07/17
State of mind: nostalgic.

Thoughts: from memories - of walking along a riverbank, deep into a Welsh forest, the sunshine glowing and dimming, dappled light dancing with the summer colours.

I think I experience true joy and peace in times solitude and exploration. These times always become strong memories. Ones that can be visited, as if they were never left.

It makes me wonder about those adages that state how if pain is felt deeply, joy also can be felt strongly. But it doesn't end there. We have sensitives, which draw us to the things that make us feel a certain way. They become our habits, if easily obtains. Our dreams, if not.

When, for real, I walk through the dappled light of that Welsh forest, I will be living my dream. But the dream is not the goal, for desire is only an urge. It is when we are there, this place of dreams, that we can comfortably give life to our thoughts and thought to our life.

Questions: Where is the place that gives life to thought and thought to life?

Man must watch himself,
Age away as he peers into the mirror,
The truth of his appearance,
Laid bare upon a silvery sheen,
All his flaws,
And stories,
Told by a ragged and haggard face,
That peers back at him,
A modern mummy,
Wishing just as much as he does,
That his youth would return to him,
If even for but a moment,
Yet even that,
Is too much to ask.

Wander worried rambler roam.
Wander down the path of a riverside wood.
Step by step,
Shuffle to and fro.
A Forgotten industry remains.
Man made mines,
Dug out quarries,
Fencing, barbed wire, power lines, and pressure treated wooden poles.
Littering the landscape.
A blood letting favor, favored low.

A hydroelectric dam.

Murky and historical waters enter its mouth,
and then,
exit from its other side.
Constantly sucking, and spitting, and churning turbine whine,
Spinning gear stuck,
clamped to the spine.
Luck may have it that these waters may never go dry.
Luck may have it that these currents stay 'live.
Merrily manic, it flows.
Strong and bold,
sparkle, sprung, sold!
Pushes and rolls,
gives and goes.
Electric mother glow.

Neon, argon, blazing blast,
to give city speckled lights a mast.
A grip to grasp, to squeeze, to cast,
shadows in the night.
Yellow, orange, red, and blue,
the shades of dreamers,
with their sorrows leaded, heavy,
holy truths.
Unspoken tomorrows, last goodbyes,
mouthed silently at last
in their heads a film score out of time.

The air is baked, the land is spry.
The sun is shattered through prism pines.
I carry myself upon the leaves, of dead footsteps, make believe.
Native footpaths of long ago
and red sandstone trail of men to behold.
Come to this place and let sights be known,
Come to this place and let sights be known,
histories of ours, histories bygone.

Hiking thoughts put into words. The Red Sandstone Trail is a trail that follows along the Raquette River. The trail-head is located in Colton, NY. The hike is one of historical nature. Many remnants of business and industry remain abandoned along the riverside. A picturesque picture painted by the clash of man made industry, and the awesomeness of nature.
Luke 5d

There was an man from Harrington,
Oh how he wanted to become a nun,
But he ate too much,
So he stopped being butch,
And wasn't allowed to be a nun all because he weighed a ton.

This is to my poor friend Neil who was rejected from a nunnery because of his physical size. I hope that it causes people to protest about the injustice in this world

I met you in a marvelous moment.
Tall charming, divine
Hair smooth, talk warm
and eyes that were wild.


A man is a lion is a pig is a man.
In cages is trapped
but his dream's roar is not silenced.
In muddy clothes
he still has arrogance to plan
a future damned.

A man is a poet is a king is a man.
From dawn ‘til dusk
his creations crash upon a reality untouched.
For the sun is diffracted and illuminated
on the golden sand,
but not on the hungry hand.

A man is a feather in shackles
with ink on his fingertips
and iron around his ankles.
His life a dainty dilemma
between instincts and prayers
engraved on each of his skin's layers.

The plump nurse
called my name
and I followed her
to the Xray room.

Take off your jacket
she said .

I took off my jacket
and placed it over
a plastic chair.

Have you a pacemaker
or medallion
around your neck.

I said I had neither.

Can you take off
your shirt please
she said.

I removed the shirt.

Lay on the couch
on your back she said.

I eased myself
onto the couch
and lay on my back.

Lie still please
she said.

I lay still.

She walked into
a screened off area
and did whatever she did
and a light came and went.

She was behind
the screened off area.

I was there alone
just the Xray and me.

Ok you can go
sit outside while
I check the film.

I dressed
and sat outside.

The waiting room
was packed and hot.  

After a few minutes
she said
you can go
all is fine.

I got up and walked out
having been x rayed
by a plump nurse
On a hot day
in late May.

An old man has an x ray.

His eyes drew back into endless darkness.
The smokey storm of features which raged
Where his face should have been struck lightning
Down my frozen spine, entangled by this sight.

The man peered into me, which his empty gaze.
Black holes which in their plainness, tore away sanity.
I wanted to ask him, I wanted to know, but words lost me.
He laughed a madman's laugh, faceless or not, he smirked.

This devil, came and went, only seeking a name.
He stepped out into the night, a frozen gaze, and into nothing.
A creature haunted, without voice for his destruction.
I know he will return, screaming death until words find him.

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