Dragun lord warrior of dark blooded soils.

You lead the men to there transcended.

Eager to disslove there reasons.

Despite the bridge was being rased.

Silver tail horses were sent from under volcanos defending.

Musk rats and rabbits stealing corn and wiskey from the moon shiners tavern.

Drink quick, as the door pushed open promptly, who is the of anger and none manners.

It's is me Leo, from cave highs near bentley town.

The grim reaper and his souls repeat there old habits creating Hellish disasters.

Let's prepare the spell of bindment.

Recite with me fellows and say grim reaper hells refuge you have no version here.

Be gone with souls you stealthed and stole for they only where not death and void.

Your promise to give them your powers and fighting abblites.

From whence, the trees where harvested for there hides to make a new script and spell book for ivory tablets and shelves.

Men dressed of red suits medal belts and center a infusion coil sparks of purple source energy where emitting power.

Many Winters they have passed,
since you departed from this place,
many years and many tears,
to leave their mark upon my face,
you always had a lovely smile,
a shining bit of grace,

Cooking in the kitchen,
just cooking fear away,
I really wished I'd learned from you,
that you had chose to stay,
we couldn't know the sun,
just wouldn't rise that day,

The pumpkin seeds and love,
you cooked up tasted good,
and you created beauty,
like no other person could,
and you loved every person,
like we all already should,

Don't know how,
I'm just like you now,
I'm sure you think so too,
I share in all our time,
what I believe is true,
the sky is ever changing,
in it's lovely shaded blue,
Cerulean is a favorite,
of her painted sky in view,

So keep an eye on the horizon,
keep a hand to guard the Sun,
rest you in the evening hours,
when a grateful day is done,
even if we die,
our battle clearly won,

So I drink my wine at night,
and I celebrate to live,
I'm thankful for what I have,
and for in what I can give,

A little bit of you,
and the others I have known,
you are all a part of me,
  from the kindness I was shown,
from a tiny budding seed,
what a lovely thing has grown,

For I now have the seekers heart,
a seed from those before,
handed down in kindness rare,
an told in times of yore,

Learning in my life,
to end it all with sage,
so careful take it down,
to write on every page,
to ever have your back,
if war should ever rage,

I will share in what I know,
I give with words and hands,
I will tell the galaxy,
of the universe's plans,

And love will finally find a way.

Cherie Nolan © 2017

Burn sage
          Pineapple sage
Read books on massage, potpourri and herbs
And never forget to
        help   one another
        On dishes, on dreams, thoughts in a stream-
ing consciousness consciously
         love   one another
And never forget
Why he came

A withered old sage had once retold,
How humans used ears and eyes,
Deranged and foolish everyone calls him,
Believe not the fabricated myths and lies.

Radiant was his face when he described thrill and yearning,
The word love made him look enchanted and serene,
As he wistfully told of things foreign and unknown,
To deaf ears and dull eyes turned to screens.

In the beginning, there was  Genesis (Life),
placing an emphasis
on expressing just what is stressing us
We keep testing ourselves and what's surrounding us
We're always hurting ourselves, shadows are doubting us

But sunny days exist to remind us
the road less traveled keeps our fears far behind us
We seek a glimpse of the hope we're taught to wish upon,
the secret fault in our stars, the ones we're wishing on

Truth is protruding a menacing declaration
Living life bottom’s up 'cause we're searching for inspiration
Matter over the mind, alcohol over manners
Obsessive, manic depressive,
we're always dropping the hammer

We feel the happiness, the hate, and the heartbreak
the undeserving hurt and the fears that raise our heart rate
the fond memories and the catchy melodies,
the lasting friendships and irreplaceable family...

...and then with Life comes  Death,
we see it everyday - the sick and hungry losing health
We make do with the bitter taste of joy,
that sweet scent of sorrow,
functioning in a manner
that distances our tomorrow

Bury the ones that we've lost,
the hands of time are clapping
Standing ovation to loss?
We question what just happened....

...and after death comes  Enlightenment (Synthesis),
We're taking sage advice
from the ones who brought us into this

You give a man a fish?
He's fed and on his way,
but if you teach a man to fish,
you feed him everyday

Rip off a piece of that canvas,
paint to your heart's content,
and trust that we'll understand this
and give you our consent

Very capable of manifesting a journey
so write to the beat of your rhythm
but please, not in a hurry

Just close your eyes and dream,
and listen to the stream
Tune yourself to the infinite
and find your inner theme.

a wise old sage from Louisiana, smoking cigarettes,
—which i stole one from that same pack later that day
and smoked it and almost threw up
behind the kind old episcopal woman’s house,
who the sage and i were living with in Memphis in july,
because we both were working on a stage somewhere in town
and we needed a place to stay a while, to watch summer rise from spring,

and i needed a place for you to **** me,
     my phantom,
     you, who, countless times, the Louisianan sage warned me about,
and the old episcopal woman hopefully knew nothing about,

   who, chanting truths of freedom and songs of singularity,
      white-haired, rose-gardening,
solitary and
    alone and
       buried alive
    in the walls of her house,
surrounded by her memories,
like the coffee mugs i accidentally stole
    when I left in August,
which, as it turns out, they were heirlooms of her dead mother’s—
    i cracked them all, i believe—

the louisianan sage, who once tasted the sweat of New Orleans’ blues jazz soul,
      now sitting across from me in the episcopal lady’s back porch,
                sipping coffee from one of her mugs
that i eventually took and inevitably cracked,
      this sage told me wide-eyed through cigarette smoke,
              seeing visions in the june blue sky,
‘the truth hurts. but a lie hurts more.’

the smoke rose to the clouds above our heads
like a sacrifice to god, and i rose with it,
and told him about september eighteenth.

and what it felt like to die
and come here.

so, here I am
and there you are

a wise man once told me
that it’s only coffee

and each day has its struggles
but when I met you
it all made sense
somehow

it’s strange, this feeling
of inner freedom

a clarity branched off from
the clairvoyant passage
******* skyward
******* lowered
to the ground below
where spontaneity happens
when least expected

I secured something of innate value
deep within these thrombin-riddled valves
the chambers of the heart
now pumping out fresh blood
like a healed wound
that the moon vampire would be proud of

so here I am
and there you are

a person well beyond what my
feeble writer’s mind could conjure up
on any given day
head in the clouds
just wishing for love to lightly fall
at my feet like footprints in snow or sand
and I wonder
why these heavy footprints
have not been blown away
by the chilling winds of winter’s calling
and I wonder
why I’m still waiting
for a look

just one look
that says it all
paired with words
of mutual understanding
bound together
a wave of pressure
between us
woman and man and
young questions
begin stirrings
rhythmic and pulsing
deep within my static brain waves
edging me closer
to you

so here I am
and there you are

The Hierophant
with your
gold and silver crown
leading me straight to

comfort.