Sunday sermons are spilling on the inner city streets
through the green heaps and brown bags
through the downtown whisperers
and sage solitude souls
Army bands prepare for march
(their trench members filling packs with canister and cane)
the high command and tricked militia head pinned
quick on the look for splinter, lorry and skuttle
Traffic patterns change at the COP connect
camouflage bearers break formal stride
battle men slip between colorful floats
unsuspecting slumlords (vein pricked and weary)
grin in their second suite dying rooms
Twitching men and rubbernecks
sit discreetly on the corner wall
JJ and the chief revere a 21 gun salute
holy rollers raise cheer (in a moment of silence)
chess men hold steady
with ivory cues
Flames belt from the distant foundry
streets come alive with crackle and dust
members of the attic group glance down from their perch
an elderly man in a straight jacket (happy in the now)
sits solemnly with a cold reflective stare
It’s not far from the steely mud holes
from the flying fragments and sharp broken dreams
from the arsenal digs and madmen (who quietly turned the *****)
the ivy trellis
and flowing white gown
are a nocturne fit
for this elevated rolling highland
amongst verdant glens of evergreen,
‘twixt feral realms of boreal splendour.
the wilderness calls to the heavens,
in a chorus of birdsong, of whispering leaves,
the howl of the wolf and the fawn’s tender cry,
from the fierce sanctity of mother earth.
her roots pierced below the powd’ry ground.
slender branches soaring skyward,
lined with strokes of emerald trusses—
their lissome needles gracefully sharp;
brushed in thin sheets of glittering frost,
& laced with a flurry of shimmering sleet.
adorned with clusters of robust pinecones,
russet blossoms of sturdy petals,
clustered upon the tails of branches,
& scattered throughout the sylvan floors—
cloak’d in silken blankets of snow and frost.
soaked in the cold gauze of lunar light.
The beast in the valley
wants more skulls for his cave
He's very very patient
He'll get them eventually
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Gaasyendietha, according to Seneca mythology, is a dragon that dwells in the deep areas of rivers and lakes of Canada, especially Lake Ontario. This dragon could fly on a trail of fire, and it could also spew fire.
It is also known as the 'meteor dragon', in reference to its supposed origin from a meteoroid that had impacted the Earth. It is also capable of crossing the heavens on a trail of fire.
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