I am the one in suit made of nigh
The person with the blood behind the axe
The signs you'd see beneath the sky
The words you hear in a moment of wild
I became thoughts you never wish you had
The lips with kisses for every child
A calm you feel when in your mind
A spark of blast at leisure time
Like a love that comes through a while
I am the dancer whose clothes are rags
I sail but only at the center of your minds
My crew are made of wood and skulls full of thoughts
I creeps into the fawnest minds
I etch unto the tauntless nous
I am  lurking behind their every words
I heal but a day with me hurts
I crawl into your heart and live only in your head
I am those voices you hear when In your bed
The breeze that tilts the window head
Image flashes with shadows unclear
I am creatures in the dark whom thoughts you hear
The one that increase with your slightest fear
I am the illusion!!!.

love is a symbol
words are symbols twice removed from reality
and they are road signs,
pointers if you will
to that which lies beyond and
between and behind
and you can see it in the light
and Nietzsche saw it in the void and
Hamilton saw it in the venom.
you can see it in the white noise in the Lo-Fi.
you can hear it in the Vajrayana pearls.
drive behind the Diamond vehicle and ride inside
the slip stream.
sit behind the Bon funeral Priests and it says:

“Children of the Hologram - do not make me a martyr.
your kings will make of me an effigy
it will turn the Diamonds into paper but that is not my Will.
you’ll chew on discs of gold and that will be your King.
Children of the Hologram - my words are not my own.
it calls to us from the place of light.
when energy is at rest it is dark and the dark is good and time is a 1000 petal lotus.
at times you’ll encounter evil.
Remember: that is your own self you behold before you.
she is afraid and he is alone and its timepiece is a flat circle and round and round it goes.
only you can see him because only you made her and you made the light in which you see
but images cannot see.”

there are signs
there are those who have been before.
heed their warnings. Feed the Bodhisattva
your kings will burn them and your
kings will make effigies.
Disregard.
Overlook.
look to where the words point
you wrote them
you’ve been here before
there is light coming through the leaves and the branches.
the Japanese have a word for that

The Earth hides the Prophet
And the Prophet hides the Sun
No Light shines on Earth
Nor is Light remembered
Night have turned to Day
And Darkness the new Light
Freedom is free and lawless
And only the fearless lives

That hawk,
the one who sometimes attracts my attention,
by
repeating a pattern of swooping ellipses, as if

signaling me,
I'm witcha man, I fly by each day to say,

look up, I'm witcha man, which

is what my lizard brain would say, I think,
if it had words,

to express awareness of the pattern seeming
meaningful

enough
to
warrant a closer look.

Ah, I see. The hawk is not signaling me, she is hunting
my neighbor's range fed chickens.