I found myself surrounded not
by wolves in sheep's clothing
but sheep in wolves clothing
To hear false claims of independent
minds, separate wills, strong souls
Yet quick to follow the command of
someone.
The excuse is friendship, love.
The same promise that was given to me.
Do not insult the heart of a wolf
with lies of it's identity.
Be true to yourself sheep.
Be safe with your flock.
Follow what you know.

In fields you walk with cloven wanderlust
With blankets carried on your back as fleece
Protecting fellow sheep-fold innocence
From devious behavior in the flock
Smiling as you bleat and stride as golden
Reflecting rays like sunlit drops of milk

A lamb of God your knowledge is your milk
Your curiosity breathes wanderlust
A message from the ancient one baas golden
Engraved upon your heart and curls of fleece
Observe the blessed range within your flock
Stray not for you may lose your innocence

A fog in hills may blind your innocence
Beware the wolf will take more than your milk
And with each day you bond among your flock
Behold the beauty of group wanderlust
We thank you for your warm and cherished fleece
That soothes us as earth's twilight breaks golden

Glory to the impossible golden
For myths of your spiritual innocence
Merely trumpets what liberates your fleece
The holy grail is your chalice of milk
Discovered in a cave of wanderlust
Restful within the shadow of your flock

What joy is raised in stables of your flock
An offering of ritual golden
Pasture of thirsty hearts in wanderlust
You teach us to hold fast to innocence
How precious is the richness of your milk
Our comfort is to rest our heads on fleece

A new dawn to behold an age of fleece
A new dusk to protect an ancient flock
A new day to preserve the gift of milk
A new memory to hold futures golden
A never ending age of innocence
A satiated age of wanderlust

Fruitful wanderlust of black sage fleece
Shepherds innocence to a white cloaked flock
Prepare ye golden moments with thine milk

© tHE tERRY tREE

tonight i explained to a child
why my lover let me go.
he told me he never loved me
because if he had, he would have stayed.
i explained to him that love is
giving up your entire universe,
even exposing your soul to a black hole,
to make their lives better.
i had to turn away a sobbing angel
on my doorstep to remove him from
my toxicity.
i begged a god to come back down to earth for an hour
only to realize he would be happier among the stars
than among the sheep.
you give up love to improve the life of the one you love.
i still drive down the same paths the angel flew down
and i still play the harp the god left me
love is selfless and beautiful
but it is painful and
you must be strong.

*(r.e.)

Baa, baa, Green sheep,
Have you any kush?
Yeh, mon, yeh, mon,
Three bongs full;
One hit for ma tyke,
And one for ma ****,
And one for the batti boi
Who lives by caribe.

Baa, baa, Green sheep,
Have you any ******?
nah, mon, nah, mon,
no spliffs mon;

I leave my nails unpainted
and cover them with pulled-down sleeves
and put on my glasses
so I can count all the leaves

because all the nights I couldn’t sleep
your best advice
was either to count
or to pretend

She had wrestled with many a serpent that had wrapped its slinky body around hers, tightening its grip for death, squeezing every drop of life from her.   And each time escape had appeared to her by a slim chance, luck was there in the moment.   And there were wolves too, with voices oozing charm, dressed in style, in the woolly warmness of sheep, but hungry dogs, dribbling, waiting impatiently to devour a good meal.   She had run from them all, breathless, wide-eyed, heart pounding within the chase.

They wanted life....her life, desiring those beautiful things.   Needing to be full of all the good that was in her, to enable them to shine, as she did.

But things have changed, she scans the world with new eyes, in these untrustworthy days.   And now the living dead can only afford to hiss and growl in the darkness.   Not once will they get close enough, to lick the salt, and taste how delicious she is.   Not close enough, to hold on and wring her dry, not any more.

She sees them coming now, even before the day dawns.   She hears their mischievous desires, moan and rumble like distant thunder on a cool breeze.   It is always the same, as each one approaches; a cheesy grin, the freak in disguise, with its deep inhale of breath, ready to spin the hallucinogenic tale of their lives.

Their blatant nakedness wants to make her break out in a girlie giggle.   But she holds it in, stops it with a little finger against her lip.  Shines a sophisticated womanly smile, and asks quietly, "Who are you?"    Then turns her back, walks far away.   Never looking behind, not even a thought of it.  No fighting, no running.   And her heart remains quiet within.

Three words....and they are nothing.   Ignored, to complete disintegration.   Those mutants who prowl, to destroy her beautiful world.   Slain with a question they can never answer.   For even they do not know who they are.

Her light shines, just a little brighter.   Life goes on – life lives in her.

ive unearthed all my demons
They glare at me with no face
Those sins carried off with redemption
Shall my death come of your embrace?
            How will i go?
fiery eyed the tale unfolds
All these lies
Recurrent truths of who you once were
Reminiscing on the times we weren't a slumber
Now i remain outnumbered
Sitting on the edge looking down at the well
Asking my cigarette if i should go for a swim

In Spain -
where cheese-making stretches back
to centuries
is a medium sized lump of
Sweet ******* Christ

blessed is the ******
whose womb merited to carry
our small herd of
hand-milked cows
providing milk, cheese, butter, and ice

and to Christians,
the lamb is the symbol of when
the pope and all the christian leadership
will be succeeded by
Moo Jesus

The Good Shepard draws not milk
not liquid from his sheep
but
an overview over Greek pagan
and Christian pastoral deities

then Christ went and
made the exorcism and
he sold in town all his
rriegitha cheese, his curds, his milk

I mentioned that The Green Sheep
had an ad coming out
in the body and blood of Christ
how could the shepherds resist
the temptation?

I was refusing the sacraments
mysticism is cheese
Christ is cheese
better still,
mountains of cheese!

Is your cheese killing the planet?
The Wedding of the Dead:
Celebration and Restraint
Christ stopped at Ebola