Dethrone all that is shameful
Dethrone all that is sinful
Dethrone all things that are not of the One

Day and day we put something on our throne
We worship this being and praise it
We believe it brings us satisfaction, happiness and fufillment
But all we do is waste the short time we’ve been given

Dethrone

Stop putting up this thing and making it your king
Stop believing the lies it tells you; it's soft whisper of deceit

Dethrone

I can’t live like this anymore, I won’t live like this anymore
I won’t waste my time on things that keep me thirsty

Dethrone

See, there's one King
One being
One father who belongs on that throne
The one we should worship day and night
And continuously shout about his goodness and mercy
See this King is amazing he loves unconditionally

Yahweh the one
Let's put him on our throne

And he picked her from the blanket and looked into her brain. Stared deeply in her brown eyes and knew that she'd cause pain.

Knew she'd cause destruction and it would be in vain. Knew she'd be a heartbreaker and it'd be her claim to fame.

While he traced her small, soft black curls he knew he held a universe, a Galaxy , his world.


He knew that someday he'd have to let her go. To be free, to learn, to continuously grow. That day he knew was nowhere near, but tears choked him. Full of fear.


There would be people who would try to tear her down, bruise her self esteem, taint her crown. They would hurt her and tell her that she was worth less because what was between her legs and under her dress.

They would show her the meaning of love and the pain that comes from loss. They would deny her truths and dethrone her in her Kingdom as her own boss.


But she'd also know sunshine, smiles, happiness, and gain. How to walk through storms, and dance in the rain. How to love without limits, and how to harness the pain, and use it for strength, for power, to gain.

So as those hard tears ran down for miles, he wiped them away with a crooked smile.

For he knew that she'd find her place in the world. His beautiful, fearless, baby girl.

Woke up early like I always do, no matter what I'm going through I sit and contemplate my present situation, like is this life worth living or am I wasting it, I got plans for myself but with what I know, I know there's a possibility of removing it from the shelf of possibilities, sometimes I can't control myself, so I get ******* let some shots off and restock, my life is just a ramble that needs to be reshocked like defibrillators to your live stock, cause global warming turned to climate change and they make it seem it's not an issue by keeping your mind invisibly encaged and your nose in the tissue, I've been changing, so when it comes to blaming there's no one to blame but the cats who put our work to shame, **** the industry it's why I live in infamy like the US has for practically an entire century, continuing forensically but fail to catch their own trace of criminology, instead blaming you for your ideology passed down from generations along with theology, some things are more believable like the inconceivable evil that's injected inside the bloodstreams of my people, makin them turn from people to machines, **** that I'd rather be trapped in Saturn's rings but sometimes it's hard to stop some things

- This world has been ruled, dominated, and conquered for thousands of years.. I think it's about time to let that **** lay to rest -

Man I've been living for quite some time, and all I've seen is the world go from a bright shine to a darkened shrine, but I guess that's what will happen when you're born into a world that's already fastened their seatbelts for a global blastin, end the nukes end the fed end the ******* who will leave us for dead while they happily sit in bed waiting for their master Satan to come in faster, the worlds a disaster but it can be fixed if everyone pitches in to dethrone their "masters", mathematical factors plotting out disasters cause they're done on purpose like previous stories remastered, some will ridicule me but it won't matter when they realize the truth that's been hidden educationally generationally, you're serviceably useful to the machine aka the system, but the system needs you, you don't need to listen

The incumbent village idiot would be alarmed by my efforts, as he'd most likely perceive them as ones attempting to dethrone him.

As fishes wriggling

The entirety of their slippery bodies

In vast oceans, lost in the glory of waters


Instincts meander

Their way through to the mind

In a pool of imagined

Sensuality with wanton desires


A longing for the temporal

Poignantly stands *****

In the throne-room of man's emotions

Motioning with a seemingly motionless demeanor


Unfulfilled cravings

Cradles persistence

In his goal oriented pursuits


Thoughts are repressed

Mental imageries suppressed

To pave way for *******

Of pleasantly positive feelings


Yet the uncouth lingers

Occasionally engages the enthroned

In scrimmages in their bid to dethrone them

Man holds the prerogative

To serve either of them willingly


Equally, man possess all it takes to be

Heinously hedonistic

And heartily attractive in personality

To please society  

None can reach complete perfection

At both extremities



© Seth Boss Kay @ 19/10/2013

All alone with no place to call home
A vagrant called The Wanderer roams
Destitute and resigned to his solitude
No one to miss him or care that he’s gone

Immortalized with the mark of Sloan
He thrives amongst forgotten gravestones
To restore their legacy is why he intrudes
For systemic erasure he believes society must atone

All alone with no place to call home
A vagrant called The Wanderer roams
Destitute and resigned to his solitude
No one to miss him or care that he’s gone

Empathy drives this misguided untomb
Generations of oppressors he seeks to dethrone
Reality remains an unfamiliar interlude
For to delusion The Wanderer is prone

All alone with no place to call home
A vagrant called The Wanderer roams
Destitute and resigned to his solitude
No one to miss him or care that he’s gone

All alone with no place to call home
A hero called The Wanderer roams
Complacent in his intrepid pursuit
Unfaltering ‘till the world sees glory of Arawn

I am my lover's *****. 
I am not the object of his affection 
but rather a tangible stable entity 
he sometimes chases after. 
Much like a dog 
craving his favorite chew toy. 
Playfully rolling in a puddle of mud 
which coincidentally is exactly
what he thinks of me.
A property, only his to be owned
Even when he throws me away, 
I should never dare to dethrone him
from the place he still thinks he owns.
To him I am unclean,
forgetting that his own hands 
have soiled my soul more than 
the ones before him. 
He wraps his unkind words
around my neck, 
ruthless knots I can't forget. 
He speaks of growing old 
while he eagerly counts down
the years to my death.
Not knowing that with every breath
I now die a little less.
Because when he leaves,
the noose around my neck loosens
a volcanic anger flows from within me
full of realisation that he can no longer have me, 
because I now come at an expense
he can no longer afford.

There is a shadow in my heart before your throne.
From a man who would dare dethrone you.
But the more he bows the more he knows.
That the shadows in my heart are not true.

The more he kneels the shadow fails
The more he sleeps the light prevails
And when he dies, all will know
He wasn't the Son just a window.

Cosmogony of My Emotions: Teleological Theosophy of My Personal Theology
Death cannot defined. Being of ultimate consequence it is above causation, yet reigns supreme as an effect. It can only be affined: Aqua, Ignis, Terra, Ventus , Umbra, Lucem/ Hydro, Pyro, Gaia, Aero, Erebus, Aether, all swirl in dead languages spoke a thousand years ago yet they all have been read by our generation in our youth.
The veil of death is a tabernacle in which only the high priest returns from walking, all others are drug back rope around their solar plexus. All paths of death are two fold.
First, from the feet of the Teleologic Cosmos of Emotion we grow towards the Son, the Father, and the Holy Spirit. From the abyss we stare at the knees of the concave exterior of healing. Like the twins of June, hate and pain, are the two closest modes to death, but not the most direct. I feel fear is the ultimate neighbor of death. The flow of Consciousness lies first in the womb. Concealed from the light, darkness sheilds us from the illusion of Illumination. Hate feeds into pain as Pain feeds into hate, like a sibling rivalry. The knees (pain and hate) bend not to cushion the feet (death) but to stop the pelvis (fear) from shattering under the weight of the back bone (Stillness).
Adapted to the new ways of my mother's demon of lust wedding sloth and gluttony. Sin is the seat of unconscious control, or lack there of like a drunk blacked out asleep, already anticipating his next drink. Hate is Ache followed by ate. Pain and hunger are two sides of the same page. What can I say, everything happens for a reason. Even if I feel it was treason yet I'm no regal prince, nor a Mercury lying closest to the Solar, I drenched myself in my own masochism: physically mentally spiritually, and had done so for years. The basis of your emergency alert was quite founded, yet not without ignorance. Yet to me, you felt i was going to rise through fear to descend into pain and find my new year 25th, death. But the beauty is in my birth with one hair on my head I left the manger a man, no wig, feeling for the first time while the police speak to my mother searching like the warriors dispatched of Herod. My blood spirit is free, having saved Adam through the pyramid  I dethrone Satan by the sip of the crown of the feathered serpent. Yet you hate he who fell. I fear the vile nature of the burning fields respecting the ignitor of the flames as the sole cause of err that lead or Savior to accomplish who no one else could. For without the fall of the unholy, wingless, cut from tip to tip, Iesus-Yeshua-Judah would not be your most beloved. Without the pain of Christos (the annointed), Khristos (the enlightened) would not achieve ideology of the cosmos. Pain rises to fear shortly, and shifts into hate in confusion as siblings squabble, as I had done internally for a decade. Yet through the gift of the heart heavenly Saul is able to see the life lesson to use the lower part of our mind to find the Big Blue. Pain ascends into love if and only if death can bounce like glue. If you aim for the Sun and the Moon you can only be a child of astronomy, yet you showed me my dreams to buy you a ring of Saturn and hand it to you on a Sunday. I believed my pain laid plain and bare could convince you of you're convictions. My mission in the deepest recesses of body was for you to give into your fears so we could slip into the underworld of sin sipping red wine until the mounring in my heart rose Rex by the fading starlight. I dream to live a lye, basic as alkaline, I wished to be a battery. I saw myself freed of my woman battering heritage ceasing the cyclic self fear that posited the ferocity of my fore fathers, due to the love of a woman most beloved and true. I felt you could be the instrument to my Burning Lyre, my love Plutonic I felt my crow caw. As I held you in my arms singing with you in harmony, setting the bond between the viscous cycle of Pain, paying dues with Hate, to rise like smoke to face fear starring death in the face like a shadow below. The night sky black with how to Know, twinkling with the star light of Love. Only above the vault of heavens clung Joy, Hope, and Live.
Without poeticizing further, what I term the Basement of Abasment consists of Death at the roots (red inverted triangle) rising into Hate (orange w/ red center) and Pain (tan w/ red center), with the connection of Pain and Hate forming a cross with the direct bond between death and fear (yellow w/ small red center).
Proceeding up the towards the chain of being, leads to what I call the equator of emotions. Cling/stillness/resolve is the grey region connecting all body's of feelings as the Moses, the leader of the Exodus and the appellation of the celestial globe. It binds Love and Know laterally to one another, while connecting the Vault of Virtue to the Basement of Abasement.

Shredded liver
tattered soul
Feelings splintered
fractured bones
Heartbroken
mind blown

Walking shoes
   with worn soles

I'm merely collecting pieces
trying to be whole
Footsteps to and fro
going this alone
trying to dethrone
these nomadic throes

Still I cant see down the road
  and I know theres miles to go.

On my moon I am always alone
Little lunatic among the Unknown.
Time to time  makes here a fire
And sit near full of hope and desire.

Snow will never  warm me up
Could you help it to do that ?
Or  give a warmth to the sup
Since from love I escaped I'm so fat.

Here In a land of moaning dust
With a scale in the world of immensity
Where seas are filled with the past
How can I be without insanity...

On my moon where I am alone
While nobody here to dethrone
Mind badly infected by sting
I will command myself as a king.

Karma to the leader who spits fire,
power to the unsung and the fellow youth.
Karma to the selfish king who's hungry for credits
power to the silent minds who makes it happen

Kudos to the spirits who never raised a flag,
One's who move to ****** the corrupt and the imagery.
Down the castle walls of greed and mainstream barracks,
Time will evade the white cloth into jet black.

Power to the youth of silent hearts and quiet souls
Never surrenders naked in front of a blistering snow.
Time is the weapon, the rule is very sober.
In time you will rise, and dethrone the master

I've listened to their speeches.
Read their termite riddled planks.
They're unlikely to dethrone Barrack-
A pity, Mitt is no Tom Hanks.
They are out of touch with women,
unsympathetic to the poor.
They're still fighting social issues
that were decided years before.
For a party of small government,
They sure have a lot to say
about *** in America
among the ***** and the gay.

The Democrats, by contrast,
Hit all the right social notes;
Indeed, they will say anything
if it will buy them votes.
Then, when we hit the fiscal cliff,
The Obamas living large,
I'm sure he'll find some Bush to blame
as long as he's in charge.

Election Day is coming soon,
Both parties seek my love.
Alas, my favorite candidate
is None of the Above.

one one by one they seen the truth,
all the gold in the hands,
that hold by the wretched gauntlet,
with the conspiracy and inconsistency of its resistance,
don't you think its magical when people see  the lies,
one chose to take control the perfecter,
the other that running through his boots against the sand,
build the walls they say within 45 days,
they whipped their bodies,
to build the security of another man,
that used to sat on a tallest tower,
the road will be never be same again,

they pit two man outside the walls,
to fight in the name of glory,
one guy dropped thousand gold
while the undeserving king overlooking,
the kingdom.

tonight we go to fight they say,
when the dead-man bell rang,
it echoed through the rest of he sand,
we walk  against our will ,
to hail the dark king.

I've always loved Alice in Wonderland
Ever since I was little.
I was never quite sure why,
but then I realized,
I was jealous.
Jealous of Alice.
I wanted a Wonderland of my own.
I wanted to have tea with the Madhatter
and my very own Un-birthday party.
I wanted to hold hand with Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum,
and walk through that beautiful place,
While they showed me around.
Now that I've grown up I have different desires.
I want to smoke hookah with the Caterpillar,
and talk about life with the Cheshire Cat.
I want to dethrone the Red Queen
and free all her guards.
I want to escape my world
and go there.
I like this life, at times.
But it's just not for me.
I want to be free.
I want to follow the White Rabbit around,
to see what he does all day.
I want to paint all the red roses my very own blue, and purple.
I want to go to a place where it's always tea time.
I want to explore.
Just like Alice,
I'm a different person today,
than I was yesterday.
And the day before that,
and the day before that.
I want to go mad,
and not receive society's judgments for it.
I want to go to a place,
where I'll be accepted as I am.
Where all it takes to get there is
just a simple seemingly long fall down a rabbit hole.
Where the plants sing,
and the animals talk.
I want to go to that place,
I get scared sometimes
that I'm losing my muchness.
I get scared that my thoughts are making sense,
I don't want them to make sense.
I want to be at that place
where non-sense is accepted.
And they'll all love me for who I am.
I've come to realize what I really want is a Wonderland,
not a reality.

I represent black excellence.
Not a queen but the very best,
You can call me empress.
Hair stay laid,
outfit stay slayed,
grades all A's.
That's excellent.

Chick you could never dethrone me.
It's cute that you try,
But take several seats.

I have all the qualities to rule this world
And the bite to back it up.
Jump again froggy,
No guarantees you'll jump again.

Let's set the record straight:
I got the brains and beauty.
Don't forget the brute strength.

I see why you emulate me
Just remember you might be a queen
But I'm the Empress.

I win.

Heart Song
Heart Song Some time only by love can the heart sing

We would lay down our life for our children and grandchildren in the natural but the more important spiritual life of forever

We can’t first because we must do it first for ourselves that would make us capable to do it for them this is what I want to contend

For in this piece first to speak of the two that are fighting for possession of you first they said he could have called ten thousand

Angels to rescue him from the cross that is a true and nice sentiment but the truth all he had to do was speak and the world and

Everything in it would have dissolved leaving him standing in empty space but it wasn’t as they said the nails that held him but love

He is love so he acts in that regard supremely then the other standing at the cross looking on he felt no pain at all his was only that of

Greed the desire to possess the great loss of the other I know God has no desire to save Satan but even in this sense God can’t stop

his designs for you and I this is what I think is one great part of his motivation only evil could think this way he knows the lake of

Fire is his future reality but his twisted mind and sadly maybe it is so but he desires to enjoy our screams and sounds of agony if

We don’t avail ourselves of this great salvation by this he hopes at least to derive satisfaction and a little pleasure to counter his

Predicament we have this great enemy then we have a resident traitor within who favors sin and evil this story I will relate is another

Road block thrown up to give us aid to prevent this outcome from happening they have said to get to hell we have to go through

The love of God and road blocks that is almost innumerable I wrote before of how you could see the spirit moving in the great

Congregation as people worshiped with hands raised yes this is so denounced in churches but it is the very acts of God his spirit

Unseen but as he would pass down the length of the building they would respond as I said like the grass undulating in a great wind

That in its self is soul stirring to behold but this excerpt from a message is what caused this reaction and worship it was also why

I missed my ride and I was walking the forty miles back to Monterey across the Santa Cruz Mountains at one thirty in the morning

The speaker for the camp meeting was the general superintendent for European operations he recounted the story of a faithful

Pastor and his wife and the trials and cost it took to bring Christ and the cross to the Irion curtain country of East Germany first they

By cover of darkness came and took his whole congregation away they did this twice then they burned
down his church each time he just

Turned around and went back to preaching truly love triumphs and the heart finds ability to sing then the cruelest act of all while

He was out doing his ministerial duties they came and took his wife away for weeks he searched for her finally his search brought him

To a medical facility please put yourself in his position everything gone he was despised persecuted only because he saw the

Terrible future of his people in a lost eternity if they were not reached The word says who shall escape if they neglect such a great salvation as this?finally the word was that his wife was here he approached the

Nurse at the desk not the kind of nurse you know the one with deep compassion on her face a sweet smile and a tender touch to

Comfort you no this one glared at him with hatred yes I will take you to you precious wife he was led to a room he entered his wife

Who loved and sacrificed so much for others was there but she wasn’t there the cross had just been used again its depth of love and

Its glorious light had been given newer brightness to reach into the dark evil world lying in bed it will take her having to pass from this

Life before she will know anyone they gave her a lobotomy making her a vegetable my friends at hearing that the congregation in

Mass also became conscious and knew the deep waters of the spirit weeping and crying out to God carried us away her sacrifice was

Not in vain her story has ushered thousands into God’s family around the world from that darkness light sprang up freeing so many

Hurting dying ones giving them finally the power to look inward and dethrone self and embrace the cross and welcome the one who

Hang their as their savior I hope it will do the same for you.

From a bang and a ******* hole
They say we arose
Hunched and furry and lacking cognizance
Grunting and glaring obscurely at the simplest of matter
That we are evolved Hominids
What an insult to so high and handsome a species
To the level of our intellect
To the stance of the master of our conception
To the grandeur of the Cherubim in-between which He dwells
To His creative ability

They go on with unabated audacity
To present us with ‘evidence’ of such theory
In an attempt to nullify the Word of His Lordship
Reduce it to but a figment of imaginative minds

They seek to re-establish the beginning
Subject the present to their will
And recourse the direction of the future
With an intent to dethrone The Alpha and Omega

For ages they have spurred violence upon the nations
While their forked tongues spoke for peace
Imposed the segregation of a race by physical demeanor
While their forked tongues spoke for unity
Instituted oppression of peoples
While their forked tongues spoke for liberation
And as they weave their intricate design
To hurl the world into confusion
Tying the loose ends in knots of theories
Which they fabricate basis to support
Then pass off as sense
All that remains is that there is only one truth
The truth that has survived interrogation and trial
And everything else is nonsense

If you asked me what my favorite color was, I probably couldn't tell you
But what I would tell you is I am a combination of gleam and gloom
Bumblebee color! And I've earned my luminous yellow and wretched black stripes
Meaning when I bleed, these colors reveal and they smack against the pavement like bang snaps
That is they ignite a spark gold as honey but the color is placebo
For instance, the direct Spanish to English translation of my last name is castle, but I do not feel like a king; In fact, I haven't since my thoughts held me captive in my own kingdom, put me in check mate as if it were a game of chess then proceeded to dethrone me
I like to try and convince myself that I'm one with nature’s convection but the reality is I'm experiencing hazy views from under in the fog rather than the suns bliss in the clouds
Sometimes I may appear to be oozing with confidence. That is unless I can see myself falling in love with you. See the mirror shows reflections of another, the mirror shows reflections of the boy who could barely speak to his own sweetheart because his voice was an old man walking with a stutter and her hand slipped away, she was gripping on butterflies danced in my stomach as I gazed into her pneuma
I'm an artist. But not in the traditional sense. I don't use a paintbrush or a physical canvas, my mind is the paintbrush and the canvas. I like to paint pictures in Ricky's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad brain of myself in a world where I don't have to write about Ricky's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad brain. If I move to Australia my brain will come with me
I often find myself sharing smiles and laughter with my acquaintances but I've noticed that when they
part, there’s always one acquaintance that does not
That acquaintance is anxiety
Anxiety never leaves me in fact it's my number one friend because anxiety knows how to keep it real
Anxiety is always there to remind me that again, the gleam is placebo
Anxiety reminds me that although I have these elegant, gorgeous, sheltering feathers on my back I'm not sure if I can call them wings because when no one was there I took myself under them but the weight was too much to bear. I cannot fly.
Anxiety grabs me by my arm and chest and like weights, drags me along wherever Anxiety feels like going, which is often nowhere
See the glass may seem clean on the surface but a few things I've learned about myself have made me see that the glass is stained by the kiss of desolation. I look into it and see a shadow of myself because
I wear my heart on my fingertips, my mind on the pistol grip, and my spirit on my shoes cause my psyche is a sunken ship
A 5 step tutorial on how to find out what it feels like to live in these shoes
1) Bring me a glass bottle. I'll bleed into it
2) Throw it against the pavement with as much force as you can so that it shatters into thousands of pieces of broken vows
3) With your dominant foot step, no STOMP on it like it's the only way to feel the vibrance travel through your bloodstream
4) Realize the gleam is placebo but the gloom is very real
5) Pretend everything is okay as it penetrates your sole

Scarred from beating and flogging
Left for dead by the tyranny of an Emperor  
But gifted life by the love of the King
In unmarked graves like poor peasant slaves
These people of God left only a forgotten story of heroism

They suffered for the cause of the Savior
Losing eyes and limbs for a cause greater than themselves
Persecution at the highest stakes
Death here on earth to attain love after
Martyred for all that is good and that is Holy

These saints, the ancient followers of the Messiah
Went unto their death for the sake of the Church
They were nailed to trees, burned while yet still breathing
They were eaten by wild animals, skinned alive
And still yet, the Church marched forward into Persecution

It was high time that the Church begun mourning
That the people of God began to cry out to God
Begging for His mercy, crying for justice
Requesting intercession from the great pain of their brothers and sisters
Praying the prayer of the Church; ‘Come Lord Jesus’

The citizens of this tyrannical empire became saints of Jesus Christ
Rome became the center of the Church of Christ
The people of God looking unto the Holy Father of Rome
To find good teaching of the Word of the Lord
Misled though they had become, the center of the Church on Earth lies in Rome

For two millennia saints of the Lord Christ have been martyred
By those who claim names other than the Lord
And by those who claim even the name of Christ
But the days of suffering have yet to end
And they will not end until we see the very face of God

For even on the very day of the feast of the Resurrection of our Lord
Twenty-one men, saints who had proclaimed the name of Christ
Served their purpose to give light and life to a darkened world
Even unto their deaths and the days and years following
For they saw the face of the risen Lord, Jesus Christ

We see on foreign shores our brothers in chains
Suffering for the cause of the Savior
For His Bride, the Church of Jesus Christ
We can see the suffering saints in chains and behind bars
And we can see them dying without food or water

We watched as our brothers bound by chains knelt on a seashore
Kneeling before the Lord Jesus Christ in faith and obedience to Him
But standing behind them the very hands of Satan
Attempting to dismember the Body of Jesus Christ
Oh what a pitiful, futile effort to dethrone our Risen Lord

The saints had their throats slit and heads removed from their very bodies
Their earthly lives ended for their faith in our Lord
What an absurd attempt to defeat the risen Christ
These hands of Satan vow to dismember the Church of Christ
But they will not be victorious over our Risen Lord

The lifeless bodies of these saints lay upon the sand of the shore and their souls lifted up
As if taking the heads of the saints of Christ brings upon more darkness
Only giving more truth and more life and light to darkened dying world
They may take the heads from individual saints
But they will never take the Head of the Body Of Jesus Christ

These murdered and martyred saints of Jesus Christ
Their blood pouring into the sea turning the ocean to blood
South of Rome, the city these hands of Satan vow to overthrow
The center of the Church on earth against whom they wage war
But attempt to overthrow our Lord, and you will be defeated

Is now not the time to lament?
Is now not the time for the Body of Christ to rise
And with one voice cry out to the heavens; ‘Come Lord Jesus!’
For now, just as all days past and to come,
The people of earth need the Savior

Perhaps the time has once again come to mourn
Perhaps the time has come for the Body of Christ to once again lament
To the east and the west, we hear terrible cries of terror
To the north and the south, we can see tears of despair
For once again, it has become ever-so obvious of our need of the Savior

Come Lord Jesus!

I wish to put
this tantrum into submission;
if it is only to let the
opportunity of
touching false love,
and caressing away
false seconds,
seep out.

Finger nails, grown
and ready,
rip at the maché decor
that conceals so much.
Tear and tear,
until another appears.
A dimension so deplorable,
and so painted with enigma,
only to have a sole young girl stand
akimbo.

And if she is of false kin,
then I yearn to embrace her form and
share a frigid veil covered
with some exotic coat of arms.
And if she is hindered inquiry,
I desire to provide her
with imperfect answers.
And if she is mine,
then let her be mine; and
let her plump palms cling to my shoulders.
Let her guide me to a trench
for us to inhabit
and play hide-and-seek
and watch dominoes cascade.

And if she is false cleansing,
then let her not be defiled
by the remnants of a decadent home
that I shed.
Let her hold me tight,
and don’t let her disappear
and prove me mad—
neither north by northwest
nor south by southeast.
I love her so,
my precious Dear.
Don’t prove me mad,
for I do fear,
that I’ll never want to
abandon her here
and return
to that place.

That place: a blend of ailment and spite.
They’ll send me somewhere
full of unwavering light.
I swear by the pacing of her little, fast heart,
she’ll put me right—
even in her stage
of stagnant night.

She’ll kindle my truth
and harden my sync.
Before very long,
I’ll be very well.
My circuits will suffice.
I’ll accept it, then, without
much fight.
Just patch up my hole
and let me alone.
So this little girl,
and her puerile nature, can hone
in and dethrone
my unsound thought
of singing irises.

And we’ll canter and laugh
until her voice goes raspy
and her legs grow weary.
Then I’ll finally cradle
her charming form
if only to let slumber take hold.
Then I’ll say a hapless goodbye
and fulfill the tasks given by
a busy man.
Who hopes that I will, for once, comply.  

I have tried to conjure warmth
for learning’s sake.
But she told me that
I didn’t have to, for it is a burden
she is willing to take.
  
I'll abide by design
and be perfectly polite.

At least,
until tight strands
become a snarl,
and she is left tangled
in fright.

my head is compact of lavender clouds
near an ocean of calm planets
harmony, cosmos

blinking your stellar dreary eyes
waltzing with vanished gods
resurrecting banned faith

they build a temple on our tomb
smash the headstone to make charms
meteorite, how you cast at me

who made them worship?
who told them gospel?
we sing psalms, electric

dethrone the crossbearer
inferno is our home
impaired, thunder

Let us dethrone this ***** little clone,
put him back in the barn where he belongs;
next to the other dozen standalone stepping
stones collectively gathering dust to the dome.
A collection of crazies chasing overblown
daisies in a field of belated paraphrases.
"Three lines should get you going, Homie!"
Bite down, giddy up, breathe out.
It's savior of the species eager to embrace
the future,but skyscrapers rise like an
oases just to fold like Fathertime's wrist piece.
Where's your patience? Check the back pages.
What's a death race without 1st place?

Crusading sapiens pound their chest
while the invading aliens blend in with the rest
and I'm too pills past drunk waiting
for the impending blimp on your radar
to changling into a Deathstar.

A universe that breathes its natural joy,
through geysers, and the summer sprinkling
of sugar atop burning crimson oranges.

Which finds necessitude,
in orbits of tender frequency.

Which finds contempt:
in vacuous headlands
and marshes filled with spider's legs.

Which seeks unity:
by golden dusty saturation
and celestial chapels
strewn with haunted bursts
from depressed musical chimneys.

Where I am,
futilely seeking to dethrone myself.

["Your mothers and your fathers,"
said he, at the AA meeting beneath
the musty and deserted Anglican church.
"Where the rooms and the furniture breathes
a sigh of relief as you enter.
Where your bodies succumb
to violent pangs of movement,
movement that is nothing other
than the tides of the ocean
and the tautness of a kite string by the shore.
Where three hundred white silken dancers
trot in flowing garments
Dutch windmills to catch the wind
and flow closer to omnipotence."

Before him, a child sadly sings.]

She teases me would you dare
climb few steps and go upstairs
sleep the night alone.

She knows well my fear of ghost
knows too well I fear them most
a fear I don't disown.

Phantoms I do conjure
a malady without any cure
a fear I've not outgrown.

Dragging footsteps shadows around
hearing sounds where there's no sound
whispers eerie moans.

Creaking doors yawning darkness
present they all fear's ugly face
shivers chill in bone.

In my mind lies on topmost
swirling mist of bothering ghost
a fear I can't dethrone.

So I don't love lone upstairs
gobbling ghosts and chilly scares
all the threats in store.

Tell her *dear tease no more
give my word not to snore
make my bed on floor.