A boy’s bloodshot eyes
guide his body
atop the dry
mountain pasture

The daylight wanes
A mass of tents flank him

He shakes his head
with a wince
to the sight
of a tent that he calls home

The daylight wanes
A mass of tents flank him

The words welcome home
are scribbled
on a cardboard doormat
with permanent marker

The daylight wanes
A mass of tents flank him

Looking at the vast open land
below, he sees



    billowing clouds form shadows
    that undulate across the terrain 



The daylight wanes
A mass of tents flank him

He rests his head that night
feeling peace
knowing
this too shall pass

Everything you see
Everything you hear
And touch
And smell
Are part of a greater existence.

Unfathomable numbers
of particles
lingering on one speck
of dust

There's simply so much!

First and foremost, You flourished fullest!
You balanced the masses all surrounding,
Yet are You the finest ever ahead, upon You,
The cast of masses all cascade to the end,
Before glorious, You are seen in full,
And they all re-rise up to You, greater
As yet You remain to be seen!

When You cast time's captivating views,
Upon Your own, on to Your vast heaven;
Beyond even the embodied, paradise dwelling,
The proud soul rise, wrought by You!
Yet Your divine revelations causes them all,
Like Your majestic rhythm, relatively
Innovates them all on the way you come and go!

It Thursday and it's gunfights at Reds Dumbos OK Corral
Them motherf--kers have got their fingers on the triggers
Triggers of fake news and delusions made by liarsmith for'all
Put on your blindfolds nutcases an let's have reddy fingers
We rule in this corral and oppose Lone Wolf with lead walls

There ain't no Sheriff in this madtown cause we run the show
Lawless Reds and Morons Shepple Gangs we're ****** known
Fast on our triggers made by Lies Scams and Nonsense in Bow
Lets go make believe we oppose what is not happening in town
We will haze the people and tell them this is how power flows

We are Criminals, thieves and hooligans but just say Politicians
Yell that Lone Wolf is the bad man and we gotta f--k his mind
No jobs, no woman, no loving, no joy and peace just perdition
****, Lone Wolf is too good a man and we can't let that be found
People like him always do well and that ain't our f--king tradition

On your horses Reds and Morons Shepple Gangs we go to war
We have to bring this Saint down or our ******* give us nothing
We fight for *******, drinks, beds and look tough men at the bar
Fire those triggers and make saps think our scam is something
We make up false stories and get those mugs acting stupid on par


Now ain't that a hoot, We are the Reds and morons Shepple Gang!
We rule this City with Lies, scams and roll..........



Copyrigh@Laurence.A6thSept2018.Allrightsreserved.

There, on the Camels nose, kneels the Praying Monk
Surpassing time and space, he prays endlessly for all mankind.

As I climb the Camelback, I make my way to his feet...on my knees
Guardians on my left and my right remind me..."He knows your here"

I take a deep breath and ask a question of him,
He looks deep into my soul and I feel his hand of stone upon my head.

He tells me "Worry does not empty tomorrow of it's sorrow"
Looking up at him, I see a loving smile for all humanity.

And It's then and there I realize, he'll be right here till the end of time.

I’m afraid
To go somewhere I have the right
I’m afraid
That someone will threaten my life
So many people have passed away
At the hand of another shooting
But at 16, should I be afraid
That the next one could be me?

Who am I?
"How silly,"
the pond replies,
"Seems your eyes'd
see through your disguises
a sight better than mine."

But when I reach into the deep,
distorted ripples lull to sleep
the me I'd need
to really make
these murky waters shine.

"Then come inside,
the water's fine,
or at least
it's all you've got to drink."
But if I submerge,
Will I ever emerge?
Or drown myself
with liquid think?

What will I find
but fishing line
cast from some other
fisherman's rod?

Is anything mine,
swimming behind
the genes of history?
Perhaps I'll try...
But I may die.
"Oh, what a mystery........."

For who am I
to have this choice?
Just some noise,
a soulless voice
dawdling in the shallows.
"But would you become
A forgotten old crumb,
A bundle of bone and tallows?"

No, I'd wish not,
but what've I got?
This pond's no ocean,
that's sure.
"So return one day
when you've steeled your faith
or maybe obtained
a magic lure."

I recall now the reason
I love winter's season,
alone on my land dwelling
limbo.
While frozen you are
reflecting the stars
over schools of mindless
minnow.