As soon as Harmony rose on the horizon,
I felt the world commence,
The whole thing has been surreal,
Seeing figures from the past,
The new fleeting moments echoing into eternity,
Voices became elated and enlightened,
As even the harsh storms threaten the shore,
beckons at the door,
The New people answer back,
perfectly diffused.

Lust is a sin everyone will enjoy,
from the bums in the courtyard,
mingling and thrusting ***** privates,
to the chaste; to you and me, and celibate,
The celibate lust for self-recognition,
for their gods,
for a higher purpose,
To strive is to lust and to lust,
it is only human to lust for comfort,
for control,
for order.
Goals of every sect are prized,
Sought after are the lusts
that guide us,
that energize the batteries in our backs,
tells us to do crazy things,
some promote devastation.

The brilliant center jumps,
Spiraling and turning,
pulsing along with invisible beats,
lulling the eyes onward to the nod,
Hitting the sides of shaded banks,
Returning,
and for just the slightest instant,
exhibiting a fearless display;
in the true cascading lumiradiance;
bursting into full light;
Colors deafening and shining outward,
Turning all those around blind,
deaf,
stupid,
entitled to enlightenment.

A body bulging and,
ripping seams,
a rash unconfinement,
suddenly set free,

A body metamorphisized,
with a soft croon,
the shell is abandoned,
the sacred formed soul is
awakened,

A body is a husk,
baking on the dirt road,
decaying in absolute silence,
the self trots along toward the
distance.

The insane passage of time,
Has led me to this point,
Surroundings are stereo vibes,
The mystic beats,
Created in the caves,
All come blaring out,
They trumpet and stampede,
All along with swinging clashes,
Like a medieval battle,
The eternal battle that,
instead of sustaining injury,
created something anew,
gasping littered dust of wreckage,
O how much it means,
the begotten, the wretched, the poor all mingle under one star,
Dancing and pouring drink after
drink,
Commoting the alleys of the sky,
Calamitous in their guise,
Bring joy and confusion in their
wake,
Splashing on the shore,
a delicate overlapping embrace,
The past aggression forgotten,
With charred remains,
The ocean succeeds the
deadly flame.

The dark ink blots out the sky,
the stars aren't shining
because at the center of our fixture
rests an everlasting, whirring
mechanism,
it turns the key in out backs,
pushes us further,
tiptoe or *** rush or sprint,
the multitude of spirits echo,
an enchanting chorus,
tone unlike any other.

When an arm is held up high,
distinct from all the rest,
it might be victory or defeat,
triumph or loss,
the inevitable outcome is when
raised,
There exists, still, a connection
to the rest of the body.
As our mingled mangled forms
caress the day we're given,
With a raising of our appendage,
it would be all over,
call it quits.