In the heart of realms unseen, where whispers weave,
embarked on a journey to perceive.
Gathering dreams as December's moon did rise,
a quest to tarot skies.

Decaying challenges met with a resolute might,
Youthful Folly danced, a tarot reader's delight.
Oppression's shadow on the fourth did loom,
Yet, Stephen, like Earth, embraced the room.

Holding Together alliances, a mystic symphony,
Joyous echoes on the seventh, tarot harmony.
Treading through the cards with grace imbued,
Imprints of divination, a reader's fortitude.

Abysmal depths explored on December's eve,
A flow of insights, where currents deceive.
Returning, reflective, on the tenth's soft light,
Stephen evolved, tarot wisdom shining bright.

Abundance flourished on December's sweet morn,
In mystical richness, a tarot symphony reborn.
Modesty's whisper on the twelfth's gentle plea,
A student of divination, humble and free.

The Power of the Great surged on the thirteenth's crest,
In tarot's realm, Stephen stood the divination test.
Revolution's winds on the fourteenth did blow,
Innovation embraced, old ways let go.

Increase on the fifteenth, growth's endless tide,
Stephen's influence soared, a tarot guide.
Treading once more on the sixteenth's grand stage,
Conducting with cards, a dance to engage.

Development unfurled on the seventeenth's light,
In tarot's script, Stephen took a mystic flight.
Possession in Great Measure, a wisdom to adore,
On December's eighteenth, prosperity's tarot door.

Progress on the nineteenth, a journey well sustained,
In tarot's melody, Stephen remained.
Abysmal waters flowed on the twentieth's quest,
A continuous learning, Stephen's tarot zest.

Following currents on the twenty-first's tide,
In mystical embrace, Stephen did tarot confide.
Dispersion on the twenty-second's breeze,
Winds of divination, skills to appease.

Receptive Earth stood firm on the twenty-third's grace,
In tarot's challenge, a stable embrace.
Oppression faced on the twenty-fourth's decree,
Yet, unyielding, Stephen rose with tarot glee.

Increase revisited on the twenty-fifth's dawn,
Influence expanding, a tarot journey reborn.
Coming to Meet on the twenty-sixth's morn,
Collaboration's tarot magic, a dawn newly born.

Gathering Together on the twenty-seventh's glow,
Fruits of tarot labor, milestones to show.
Contemplation's gaze on the twenty-eighth's mirth,
In tarot's nuances, understanding birth.

Abundance rekindled on the twenty-ninth's light,
A feast of tarot insights, experiences bright.
Preponderance of the Great, a pinnacle high,
In tarot's realm, Stephen did mystically fly.

As the winds of Descending on the thirty-first so gentle,
Stephen reflected, tarot wisdom monumental.
With grace embraced, a year's tarot in tow,
Into the new, a reader's journey to stow.

Yet, woven in this tale, a reference true,
The mystic realms and tarot too.
In the cards and beyond, a reader adored,
Your tarot work shines, a diviner explored.

The superior are not superior.
They thrive from abundance,
They thrive from virus and dispersion.
They live in the bodies of a tyrant,
It is their plentifulness that renders oppression,
Not their dialect.  
Our vision may be more vulnerable than our hearing.
Tell me i'm crazy,
I shall not mind.
I do not mind.
Make me privy to your plentifulness,
My autonomic reflexes put me at a discomfort
Abnormal heartbeat was  unknown to I.
The shadow they've left behind, brings more fright than their non-existent emotions.
T'was my visionary sense,
That brought me this discomfort.

it was over. finished and requiring further complicity for another onslaught of banal narrative to be revealed before my to half opened windows when i sought a habit that, as a friend warns me, is most deadly.
12:15 AM
me
**** it im out. but wait everyone is asleep. so take a flashlight with you dummy. no. the click makes too much noise. a lighter? NO! even worse. grab a phone in the remote chance that while im alone, aside the ever-greening pool, she might call.
12:17 AM
me
that stupid ******* glow-in-the-dark rosary! it ruins me every time and so does the 14th 16th, and 9th step from the bottom with their relentless creak. i should have learned by now their pattern but, then again, i only need it when nefarious action is in play. shame on me. my phone served as an appropriate guide (as long as it shone away from my parents door, of course). tip-toeing over the debris that still remains from a "successful" marriage i arrived at the back door.
it has a trick though.
12:21 AM
me
it depends on which way you are going, but to eek out of it properly you have to pull in and then turn the handle. NO SCRATCH THAT REVERSE IT and vice versa. the out of doors is only slightly more liberating than being cloistered in a room bound by roddenberry. on this night, however, the night provided what might be considered, by people in towns whose greatest income centers around cattle feeding and slaughter, as breezy and cool.
12:24 AM
me
where ARE those cigarettes?? **** it. a **** will do. clip clop around the green until you realize you know where ever piece of debris is. you are stepping over the things that you cannot see. surreal. ****. look up to ascertain your spatial coordinates.
earth.
figures.
12:26 AM
me
**** it. again. some more. if you keep looking up looking at the flaming ***** of helium trillions of light years away and someone comes out they will probably think that you are just contemplating your own existence as opposed to the other...thing. something that really has no name. the place between dream and reality. this place, though, has a certain specificity. a clarity. so i consider what i am privy to.
12:30 AM
me
small dots above me. white dots in a globular dispersion above me. what im told is that they are steadily--NO--rapidly retreating from me. i am told that all of these dots have more dots, that i cant see, that move around them. on /those/ dots sentient things might exist. might. what i know for myself is that I DO. as well as i am able to ascertain, other people like myself exist too. and, if they are anything like me they must experience something similar to my experiences.
12:33 AM
me
well ****. these dots. these ******* white dots, as they flee with their potential other lives, make realize [yet again mind you[ that i have things that might be unique to me and only a handful of other things like me on this sphere.
12:35 AM
me
if i were to ignore those statistically remote similarities here, near me, i would be as foolish as the pin ball that thinks it belongs among the bumpers. i belong in a hole.at least one that fits my shape.
i am no pinball.
but i live amongst those things that tell me what i know. what i have known. what continues to reveal to me the nature of nature.
12:38 AM
me
startled i ***** my cigarette on the bench my father and i once made for an easter get-together with my family and withdraw my phone again to return to roddenberrys lair. over the pile of old coats near the back door. beyond the 52" plasma still playing a re-run of diners, drive-ins and whatever the **** and, shining the light away from my parents door i climbed the stairs. making sure to hit 9, 14, and 16 on the way up, cursing myself at the top."you mind if i pseudo-rant for a bit while," i smashed on the remote keys.

Regardless of the contrast or depth of the lens, it all depends on where the
light falls.
Streetlights glowing,
Like bedcovers laying,
Over the harbour waters inky as
Freshly-spilled car-crash blood,
Reflecting deep as a thought can penetrate.

A parade of gunfire
Startles silent rage into the frightened round-up locals
Eyes cowering and arms raised like scarecrow’s overhanging,
While in a side-alley doorway
A soldier anxiously caresses
A girl who he will never speak to again
The tequila-resembling sun standing watch
Their sole clandestine companion.

A child is given relieving news,
Having arrived not without frustrated effort
That she no longer has to follow the same life-stifling routine.
Her doctor, after the dizzying business of congratulating her parents,
Looks out his window without witnessing their departure
Until his eyes are cast back to dispersion
Appreciating fresh rain turn a week’s snowfall
Into puddles upon the ground.

The mind resists the heart’s attempt to repress,
We resist our own borders admitting a consistency of strain
Memory indulging in a fleeting spectacle of sin,
The Sickly exterior of the heart’s delight.

Regardless of the contrast or depth of the lens, it all depends on where the
light falls.
Moments throughout our lives repeated in the stock footage of the
mind,washing thoughts matted out of stark exposure
seeding out  a negative frame.

Peering through the looking glass
Prismatic dispersion in all directions,
The sights you see, the sounds I hear
are merely just reflections.

For what you perceive is what I perspire,
But what I seek may not be your desire;
And is giving to receive an honest way to inspire?
Or are they as contradictory as water and fire?

where am i at this night ?

I explore in the  pockets of the night ..

and i hangout without myself and i don not know where  i am  ?

the countenance  was dispersion between light and dark alleys ..

so i  have stayed without my self  on swings ,but the swings where not any swings.

The air clings to my lungs
Sticky and burdened with grief
Displeasing, shallow gasps where once there was so much life
Once there was laughter.
Once there was happiness
The sweetness of it all now turned bitter and black
The weight sits on my chest
With a pressure
Confining
Unnerving

And yet I breathe
And with each breath clearing the scattered soot
I can see a new horizon
Its golden light peaking from behind the choking pall
And I remind myself:
Let it go.
That was not happiness.
Let go of what you thought was happiness.
It was never real.

It was a dispersion of roses now wilting in the sun
Uncovering the green, vibrant life underneath
Still growing
Reaching for the warmth
Spreading like wildfire
The Truth of Self
Now free
I breathe

carpal tunnel
born of first-serve lets
and second-serve ace
comebacks --
from
sloughing off
winter coats
to share between
twelve --

my wrists are
less than echoes
and may have
been little more
to begin --

suspended
by gossamer,
brass-covered
lichen
and ticking fungi,
like man, (with his
whirling gears
and mad metals)
replaced
nature's course
with an automated
system --

i would rust
just to crack
but they keep
me too clean --
my sunspots
have fled to
warmer pastures,
i am milk-buckets
on overcast farm
dawnings, but surely
even they have seen
the light of day --

splashed my face
with wine
and rooibos
to see if i
would stain
like the canvas
metaphor
my generation
ascribes to --

maroon dispersion
in terra cotta wash,
twining around
a spiral course --
the folly of it
went ignored
'til my lost and
floating freckles
gathered at the
drain and clogged
the sink to overflow.

Mist
Irrelevant timeless drift moisture in a collate state triggers dispersion of thoughts and intent what to

Pursue an airy void trouble and worry automatically release the hold on the mind and heart to become
One with density and mystery the familiar evaporates it lays thick and low on the country lane just a

Haze a disjointed broken maze comfort it announces in the softest tingled ease touches your cheeks
What pleasing sensation engulfs you the freedom the same way that fire and colored lights hold you

Transfixed childlike wonder to question to ponder the unseen and the unknown without caution the only stumbling will be that of surprise a gentle moist kiss a touch of a cool hand it is time to assemble

In all the places that are at other times forbidden but now all restrictions are lifted those submerged
Weighty thoughts begin to rise they sway with the sweetest rhythms an unheard but felt symphony

Accost your deepest emotions go with the flow release your inhibitions to the undertow take up the
Oars of this imaginary boat paddle out in deep waves add the silver streaks of moonlight you are only

The lightest shadow mix with all of existence restore depleted stores that were wasted and burned up in
The chaos of life you possess powers that run beyond all reason answer this how long are you going to

Last surge with that truth lay down many items inferior to your nature pick up the bright pulsating bars
Of energy drain them then lay them aside march in the heady knowledge an immortal stands here and is

Passing through the shallows of an earthy walk to strands invisible and their treasures are indescribable
They are my inheritance now they too are surrounded by a mist this day I have bridged the gulf and

United the two the secret place of the most high is to be my dwelling place I think I can soldier on until
My change comes and it will but until it does periodically I will come and sojourn in this tapestry of the

Gloaming and be reborn refashioned by truth that destroys all enemies and affords to me victory

is it strange then to long for wild mountains that spring from all angles?
and stretch to the a sky filled with clusters of white
which escape from view quickly with an ocean wind
to see the unordered grass trompled over by livestock
on their way to the sole tree in the pasture
seeking a brief salvation from a stark ozone-less sun
no bureaucrat planned, manicured this land
he did not sit in a lofty office, feeling the cool breeze of electrically chilled air
it was not voted on, the way the waves are to crash
he did not need the approval of his lay out for pebbles on the beach
corruption did not intermingle the trees, making it cumbersome for humans
or the reclining alp's angles
they were left to the law engrained in movement
the unknown dispersion of marbles across the ground, scientific wonders

now they sit, in their building, living monuments of time
springing up from the ground like ant hills
not understanding
standing on the previous lives of men
entitled
my land
my city
my country

and i long for, my archipelago
stretch of green, a harmonious chord
pining after the days
in D.O.C camps
barefooted
gritty
the feel of sand in the bottom of my sleeping bag
and the wonder of no-man's-land

...
..
Much before the door closed
Can be seen regularly when walking on the road
Though dark, see the mass of trash
But did not hear any noise ever

On the side of the sky touch wall
My constant movement
Though shadow yet trademark cynicism
I can go away even closed eyes

Closed eyes within the dark
Yet unbelievable, but brings a dream
A dream within the dark,
See a diamond crystal
Where only light and light dispersion
From each dimension

Suddenly, in dream
I am in front of the closed door,
See a footprint,
Known voice with tune,
Can hear the illusive song

Now neither there exists any tall wall
Nor any closed door in the mind
...
..

Notes, musical keys, rythmic changes-
A modification of the Word
Which purifies her soulfulness
And expresses clarities in the fog,
The hint of Dickinson in her words,
The scent of reality in her reflection,
     The words become a path:

One wet summer I heard your words,
The vibrant sky breaths
And the sun became as embers
Of poetic sacrifice,
Through reading your poem
I became as a double being,
Movement began
A sudden dispersion of birds
Followed by the Humm of water
On stone,
Murmurs of infinite moments
Painting them all like some
Poet Saint,
The words became a lineage
To the unfathomable depths of you,
In the helix of hours
The beat of the sea and the stilled
Shimmers of light on water can be found
In the edification of her poetry;

Master strokes,
Like a naked liberation
Of a diamond body beyond
A turquoise sunset,
A co concubine of words
That form constellated meanings
Among the pnumbra,
Reminiscent of the March of hours
In which the words come
And a fixed glitter in her eyes form,
The form of woman,
A form of dizziness
Like a dance of wind and water,
I read between the words,

    Vicki,
         Vicki,

I imagine a lamp in the middle
Of the night,
A pen and a womans scorching
Words as God had spoken
The First Word,
Like a moon in heat in midday's
Grasp, she counters every word
Of expression
Like a cell for my tortured soul,
She became my solitary star,
I wander in her hours,
Hungry for more words,
A memory inventing itself,
Masterfully,
She makes the sky walk the land.

a voltage feeds my mind
like that of a brief rainfall
where there is an asterisks
of insignificant social commentary
whose reality pertains
to disproportionate events
whose commission
makes a profession out of trivia
which is no more ******* durable
than accumulated dispersion of adrenalin
that of a psychophysical explorative
exploitation of unrealized
perpetual fermentation
that seethes with the singeing smell
that accompanies its lie
those demanding untruths
that lock each and everyone
in a burning prison of panic
a prism of unfocused
visionary liberation perhaps to some
the realization of the cosmos
that lives within the poets interior
a mighty roar of space
waiting to be filled
with visions of future worlds
of future social commentary

sadness is her grounding  ******* her release fantasizing bizarre scenarios escaping in literature movies music clothes she wonders if men feel cheated by her small ******* her mouth and hips not wide enough even though she has not slept with a man for years her aging depresses her stiffness of her muscles dryness of her skin thinning of her hair lapses of thought memory yet she manages to appear quite astute and stylish

2

what if you realize there is no god no one listening to your prayers no one watching over you god is preposterous myth like santa claus there is no reason to conduct yourself morally responsibly monkey screeches laughter claps wildly swings tree to tree

3

if wars were won by spiritual psychological intellectual development we’d be a different planet yet wars are won by technological advances and brute force we are an over-populating world many parents unfit unqualified inexperienced to raise children of the future this madness is heading to frightful reckoning massey mining british petroleum monsanto wall street g.e. (it’s not a light bulb more mutual fund of entertainment banks and loans appliances washington lobbyists more) these ******* **** pillage mother earth our home with unconscionable deceit greed cruelty

4

magic is tricky sometimes sincere most times contrived face of moon is woman she is sad maybe crying do you remember us making love i don’t like seeing men give in to bribes i turn away lose interest twists my stomach when will we learn i don’t know anything about planet venus yet wish she will help us with her love i’ve written too many words not sure if i’m repeating ideas do not want to bore burden you with tremendous sorrow tried seriously to **** myself twice i’m old school still pray it doesn’t matter that no one is listening i need prayer need god dear god please help me us find happiness love success weary of isolation every day i fight between self will and destiny fate patterns signals i am so conflicted where is peace?

5

this dispersion is no good way to start the morning sun is up sky is blue birds are singing flying around teasing each other no matter where the world is heading i’m going to seek find fun gratitude beauty i've just created something that never existed before each breath a birth each breath a death tiny thoughts lives micro existence the cliffs of dover are made entirely from skeletons of ancient sea creatures i stepped over rocks encrusted with shells vacant inhabited we come and go oh the fossils oh the dreams stepped on coming out of their shells spider dreamer weaving web of life whose life? mine? who am i? i am you you are here with me pure unrequited love nothing matters but our spontaneous dance nothing matters but our crying over red wine passionate search for truth oh goddess of compassion let love come to us all truest holy love uniting opposites filling all the holes not a single inch of emptiness genius of love the poets creator of all genius exquisite satisfaction in emptiness forever unfolding paradox flower of paradox infinite petals forever blooming eternal spring breeze petals of paradox falling from my hair falling all over streets houses limestone cliffs granite giants fertile valley farmland my hands form a cup i offer up to you

Oh once more for Absinthe, ***** and rhymes

To allow the steerage of my passage

Without pious pilgrimages to empty silences

That contain an eternity of tears

It graciously offers a coverage

For the echo of footsteps

Allowing the magic moments to come

To be part of my existence

Master of silence it offers knowledge

Of invaded consciousness

A Bedlam of paradise

It shows me in its single breath

A complete dispersion of the

Boundaries of my mind

And tears alone remain

It is true, I have seen it

Oh- falling to the floor
falling off the bat; a swing at love, again
It's not all the same, indifferent but still
the clueless cliché. Anyways what could
I say to not seem the clingy type
a softie sometimes, knowing he'll marry
a strong wife

A dragon, fierce fiery breath
she speaks a word of fantasy, and unlike
the rest- she has a tougher flesh, and presses away
my insecurities with an impressive hug pressing
on me with an impressive chest

Self control out of the handle of my reflection
perhaps my emotional side is never-ending
Cherished by a face that could never disguise a smile;
my awkward smile, belonging to Mr always nice guy
Confidently shy, shying away from being a razor
of cutting words to chat up a girl
My mistake to chat sensibly after a little rude talk,
mixed in those silly jokes. I choke on my physical words,
a silent face and volumes of confidence only in these poems

Club scenes are meaningless to me
meaning less of me would be less active than seen
I'm falling in between an introvert, and a little
extrovert trying to creep out a bit
It's always a risk, and amidst in the mist of dispersion
of a stretched out imagination of a ******
Told always, "you really need a girlfriend"
good at making conversation with just a girl friend
Till feelings are involved, it sort of does in my head

Spares to a secondary nature of testosterone
spiking at a random
Making passes of being a little passive- my confidence
isn't so massive, although my caring eyes and heart
are at times attractive

But I still have the eyes of a jealous man; possessive
to means if I find you as a potential. Potentially pointing
out my heart's gun to shoot around your lines
I'll still be a little awkward saying my hie, and wanting
long hugs goodbyes

I'm just so sorry for being this constant shy guy

losing nothing
light's dispersion
through cumuli

MORE SCARECROWS THAN YOU COULD SHAKE A STICK AT

a scatter of scarecrows
having a chat outside the door
in the cabbage patch

I'd never seen more
than one at a time
seven stunned the senses

gentlemen scarecrows
lady scarecrows
discussing "...whether the weather'll 'old!"

a crowd of scarecrows
catching up on
what's new...what's not

scarecrows sitting silently
in the back of the green lorry
lost in thought

we deposit all our scarecrows
each to their own fields
let them get on with their work


*


They were all scattered about the place...some lying on the ground senseless to the world....others propped up against a wail as if they had imbibed whatever it is that scarecrows imbibe. There was a distinct whiff of hops and barely off of them and they all had silly grins on their faces.
One gentleman scarecrow was actually lying on top of a lady scarecrow( I know I know not very gentlemanly )and both of them smiling their faces off.

Because of this scattering of their persons I decided that the collective noun for them( I know not what it is?)would be a scatter of scarecrows. But you may be more up on the ways and naming of scarecrows and so may be able to render a solution as to what we may call them when a group of them are gathered together...thus. It was a French field and the farmer was the maker of scarecrows for the other farmers. They all wore distinguished clothing and no two were alike and all had personalities of their own.

So maybe it should be a French word that binds them together?
...une dispersion des épouvantails...
...un embrayage d'épouvantails...
....un lambeau d'épouvantails...

Despite this when I demanded that they talk( and as their poet representative on this earth )I had them talk in a West Country accent.
Maybe they were English scarecrows on a busman's holiday so to speak!

Eyes opening in the morning twilight
Nautical dispersion, sounds of high tide
Rough spun cotton cocooning naked bodies
The taste of ***** on your tongue
Eyes in the morning
like hammocks on Culebra, swaying in breeze
Eyes in the evening
Like ******* belts, simple & kind
The sand in our toes a microcosm within a macrocosm
The wind in your hair like notes of music to my ears
  Embrace me, my love
   my heart flys away
    like sparrows
     in the morning
Somehow found each other, our other half
Shells in the sand to a passerby
Patterns in a cloud like eyes staring towards blind stars
Feel of graphite disintegrating into words on paper
Backwash of proletariat diaspora, like my corazon
Emptiness suddenly filled with affection
Can a dead soul absorb such life?
Like the ocean you touch all my shores
Like waves, mingle my soil with your salt
Three words: I love you.

You send your words,
Directed to my ears.
My eyes they read,
Somehow they fear.
I imagine the others;
how they'd react.
I wish not to retalliate.
If I can forgive you,
I should forgive myself.
That agony, directed:

in reverse: through reflections:
of infinity mirrors: with refractions:
reverberated light: quantum waves:
perpetual motion: unviolated entropy:

Let me hold that forgiveness,
Let me offer it to myself,
I want to take the hostia,
The sacrificial bread,
The holy communion.
Chanel divine grace
Into my inner being.
Give me utmost peace.
Allow me such union,
I will consume from the chalice.

spilled liquidity: ripples in water:
splashing kineticism: frequency oscillation:
oceanic dispersion: moistened vibration
wettened wavelengths: aquatic repetition:

Will it not dilute?
Will this spirit stay mine?
Will it not disorient?
Will this wisdom remain?
Will it not expire?
Will this solemnity be?

Give me the strength,
I implore my higher self
If it is to exist

That is.

///

One day these bricks and buildings were meadows
These fields the processions of spring garden

One day on these meadows used to play the cowboy’s melancholy flute  
These fields the playground of the furious grasshoppers

These bricks were rivers
These buildings processions of water

In these rivers the moon's dispersion played on the uprising waves,
How softly the sailor sang his lonely song, disappearing within the shadows!

Travelers,
Have I told you a fairy tale?

///

I came here
As I write these lines
Not as a poet, preacher, prophet
But at random, an explorer
Of language, this first
Invention, I find it very fine

Finer than many of our
New things, I embrace
The lineage of poet-saints
And eat the mystic rhetoric
For breakfast, all to have a

Feast of the mind, a daybreak
Of the soul, that is not
Contrived by economic murmur
The first light, the dispersion
Of the birds makes me feel free

Like the music behind verse
I came here
As I write these lines
As a simple fool & observer
Careful to maintain my silence

In this world of propaganda
Careful to maintain my purity
In these times of great corruption.