When it appears, you can't see it
It speaks, you can't hear it
It touches, you can't feel it
Yet if you look for it, you can find it
If you talk to it, it sometimes listens
If you touch it, it will be felt

It will not give Assurance
It will not give Actuality
Someone help,
Solve this mystery

is it your destiny,
to be read
aloud to many
listened and dissected
in unison
leading our
thoughts as one
every crevice examined -
an anchor to gravity

or should you
just be looked at,
at face value
appreciated
for who you truly are
the sound,
flow and rhyme
of your verse

I believe to fully
appreciate you,
you should be
read in many different ways
to see your genuine value
that is often unique to all

though truthfully,
you really are
just the mutterings
of a poet wandering
room to room
in your mansion

When He came home from work that day
He said “Enough’s enough”.
“Let others built the widgets,
I have done that long enough.”
I’ll live a life of leisure,
crafting poetry and song.
Perhaps I’ll write short stories
or play my guitar all night long.”
Such boundless optimism
didn’t take Fate into account.
Fate, the foe of youth and love,
was lurking there about.
That man thought that He had years of time
to write and think and putter.
Yet Fate was of another mind,
and a malediction muttered.
A tightness in the chest He felt.
A soreness in one arm.
He was sure that it was nothing.
Soon thereafter, He was gone

Forgotten are our pleas
to temper the dawn
So that even as the night lays silent
there are echoes,
a rhythmic thrum of time
Carried forth are the quiet souls of man
from the ebbing shores born of passing moments
toward the twilight of the flickering flame.
And land ye yet to those moors of shadow,
that evanescence of the living breath,
take heart!
For on its banks grow the roots of the Bodhi
whose branches bore the seeds for the Garden,
and its leaves are as shelter for the Spark.
Thus we bear the gaze of the boatman,
the cloak'd Moirai who guides the clocks,
as it is best to take the lilting petals
upon the tongue
and savor.

Late night, early morning drives
The time when I wonder
How close I can get to death
Without dying
Sitting in a vessel
Much safer than my body
My mind can't help but wander
To other places
Intentionally placing my design
In the hands of the outside
I feel empty
Light enough to float
Yet slight enough to fall
Your smell
Still lingers on my sheets
But what will it matter
In an instant
Oncoming traffic
Fraying the string that
The Fates so diligently measure
But there's always that force
That pulls me back again
-- although unwillingly --
Knowing that I do not control
The evasion of death

Their eyes met not by chance
But a glitch in the gods plans.
The moment they embraced
the gods anger flared.
Frowned upon by fate
Theirs was a doomed tale.

Opposites they were nay
Like two peas in a pod they say.
But the gods didn't say
Together they should stay.
Frowned upon by fate
Theirs was a doomed tale.

But neither could stay away
From each other for a day.
Yet the gods will didn't sway
And favour their way.
Frowned upon by fate
Theirs was a doomed tale.

And how else would this play?
The gods finally had their way
And each went separately to a bay
Jumped into the waves.
Frowned upon by fate
Theirs was a doomed tale.

I didn’t find any pennies on the ground
Or any horseshoe facing up
Or any four leaf clover
And I didn’t get the good half of the wishbone.
So why is it me
Why I am I the lucky one
Why do I get everything I ever ask for

There are people in this world who feel alone
Who have no home
People who hit rock bottom and there’s no way back up
People who know they are at the end
I wish that there was no such thing as less or more

Wish that there was no such thing as luck.

Because the karma says
They get what they deserve
But the thing is
Maybe they didn’t deserve it
Because maybe were wrong and the world
Is just a little unfair
Reality
Isn’t some piano piece of planned perfection
Maybe there are suppose to be holes
And mistakes
and *****-ups
Like there are suppose to be stars and serendipity
And sheer strokes of fortune

And I will run miles and miles
On a clear and cleaned sidewalk
That snakes in circles through suburbs
And they will trudge pavement with
Ruins and cracks and stains
On city streets littered with corruption

For the only fact
I’m not him
And he’s not me
And this is how it’s meant to be
Because we had no choice

Sometimes I believe there’s a book
With every thing in between your first and last breath planned.
So there’s some excuse.
So when unjust appears we say
There was nothing we could have done different.
That everything that happens in supposed.
That we were put on this earth with the timer set.


Because luck is just too unpredictable.

And I wish there was something to blame.

And I wish it was fair.

And I wish that every clover we pick had four leaves
And every wishbone and horseshoe holds some worth
And I wish that every time we are in need
We look down and there’s a penny
That brings us back to the right track

Because if this world was based on superstitious   thought
We would live in fear and in fortune and
Maybe some people would have a shot.

If the sun had hands, he’d reach out
to touch the curve of the moon’s spine, tracing
his fingers along each crater as she lit up
for him like a paper lantern
in the sky. His flamed limbs enveloping
her, his Luna. The arch of her back
against the backdrop of night, her fullness
intoxicating. After all this time, still burning for her.

When the sun was given hands, he cursed them
as he watched the moon crumble
into ash in the blaze. His hands were Rome
and he couldn’t stop the collapse, the ruins of her
scattered across his cupped palms. He prayed
to Moirai for revival, but all three gods
were silent. Choking back flames of fury, he tossed
his beloved into the black expanse, each flake still lit
with a passion to rebel the stars
that continue to burn with foolish hope.

From quiet homes and first beginning, Out to the undiscovered ends, There's nothing worth the wear of winning, But laughter and the love of friends.
Hilaire Belloc (1870-1953), British author. "Dedicatory Ode," Verses (1910).

Dear Parents

Thank you for deciding after two years of marriage to have a child, me.
Sorry I wasn't the boy that so many of my family desired, sorry I was late, sorry that you missed the "Rumble in the Jungle", if it's any consolation I know who won.
How I came to be is quite beyond me. Father's family disliked mothers and vice versa. Dad a steelworker, Mam a trainee chef, dad flipped a coin with a mate, my mother was the stake.
Four years later sister came along, then another four years the son, that so many yearned for made an appearance.
I saved my sister's life from my grandparent's dog, lost an ear in that battle, a bit like Van Gogh. Plastic surgery at seven, still hate Cocker Spaniels to this day. I tell everyone I saved her from a rabid Doberman (I know parents, there's no Rabies in Great Britain) what did I get for my trouble? A stuffed white cat and a sister that I made sit in a cow pat.
Thank you parents for sending me to a school that made other kids suspicious of me. A welsh medium school, might as well have been Hogwarts, but they taught me well, (I can swear in five languages) and read and spell.
Dad taught me how to head ****, mam you taught me how to make cake.
My sister taught me how to share, my brother taught me how really not to care. Live each day as if it may be your last, I told my brother that often.
Dad, one of 13 kids, mam one of 3, like me. Dad, I hate your sisters that are alive they remind me of the Moirai, or the three witches from Macbeth, I've tried to like them but I'm terrible at lying, and to be honest they are in their late 70's so they must be close to dying.
Mam, your sister is a lesbian, I think her army days gave that away. Your brother like mine a source of consternation a Navy man that never went to sea????
Now, my grandparents are all dead. Apparently, I have inherited my father's mother's temper. She disappeared for 3 days when she thought she'd killed my grandad!
I'm married now, no rug rats thank God, I'm aunty material, selfish and wicked.
Now, this sounds I know a little quaint and odd, but I know we've had our share of bad luck, but, 42 years wed, still in the family home, surrounded by trees, neighbours we've known for years and people we'd like to poison. But,we've laughed so hard mam you have a hernia, dad you are the male equivalent of a ****, you'll be flirting in the OAP home **** yes, sorry parents as one of your three I get to pick the residential home! And, as they say,that is a good life.
Jo **
P.s I didn't mention our family mental illnesses, early 20th century communism, possible adultery, coveting the neighbours Ford Capri, or pet cemetery in the garden. I'll wait til all are dead then spill about the good secrets.

there is only one truth
not the multiplicity of alternatives you managed to conjure
nor the distortions of fact and self-prostitution you fostered

there is no truth
in hiding behind the facades you have crafted so expertly
a face for every situation and a situation for every face

tell me what did you think you would achieve
was there some master plan in your minds
when you orchestrated this elaborate manipulation

did you ever expect that these worlds you created would collide
drawn together the seemingly unrelated
pulled along paths
by the magnets sewn in their lining

there is truth in the divine order of stuff
that right there, that running thing
pathetic
there is only one truth
and it has just picked up your scent

@journeyofdays

O, Clotho, what thought have you to weave such jests?
No mortal thought toward you against!
Thy nimble hands, they weave too quick,
a braided thread, nay long nor thick.

Upon Lachesis, yon thread is passed,
who keeps it in her lissome grasp.
A long, long life, ordeals a'plenty,
in thy mind's eye, distill wrath or envy.

Atropos, friend of Hades dear,
Hag of ages, mortal's seer!
A duty trusted unto thy blade
Evanescent and fleeting we must remain.

My moirai has cursed me for bumping into you on late,
albeit it is a curse,I texture it as a mot blessing,
as my experiences now shall be blossomed with our confluences,
and my fantasies shall emulate our trysts......

Queen of waves,
relinquish poor ol' *******,
set world free,
forgive ol' debts he owes,
******* he was born,
no name in gravestone

by drop of ink and wave of feather,
would he rule the fleet,
emperor of new bold world,
destroyer of rights

poor ol' *******, blood in his hands,
dirt of the sea must be brushed, everyday,
whip must be whipped, on a stormy night,
as violin deserves to be played,
and grand orchestra has to be born,
on a beautiful day

poor ol' *******, destined to suffer,
melancholic tears fell from the sky,
the night,
Moirai sang the fate of poor ol' *******

The stars were bright above my head,
but mind of mine was filled with dread.
How could my actions have misled
me to a hell like this?
What laws of nature did I break?
And where I made such big mistake?
And how much horrors will awake
and rise from black abyss?

I think this all began the day
I bought a house in the bay
I should have listened what they say:
this place was ****** for good!
But it was cheap, as deadly bogs
With crooked trees and stinky fogs
and countless hoards of homeless dogs
aren't pleasant neighborhood.

I lived there quietly for a year
and awful swamps located here
were not at all a source of fear,
but rusty house was.
I had to catch the rain with bowls,
the wind was welcome through the walls:
They, like the roof, are full of holes,
and hence my anger rose.

I couldn't then afford to fix
or to rebuild this house with bricks,
although I feared of facing Styx
if it was to collapse.
I hardly ever slept at all.
I heard strange noises in the wall
beside my bad, like insects crawl…
'Twas just my mind, perhaps…

And once I woke again at night
and saw a dim and lonely light
just at a border of my sight.
In bayous it appeared.
I quickly put my jacket on
and, trying to suppress my yawn,
I ran to that phenomenon.
That totally was weird!

As I drew near, I saw a maid.
She seemed confused and quite afraid
of something. 'Please, I need your aid!'
she cried. 'My brother's lost!'
I saw some teardrops cross her face.
I was bedazzled by her grace!
'I'll save your brother from this place,
I'll help, at any cost!'

With that into the night I raced
in an extremely thoughtless haste.
And under shiny stars I faced
what seemed like certain death.
A horrid beast from waters rose.
I noticed how the water froze
In pools that were a bit too close...
I couldn't take a breath!

I didn't, though, become a prey.
Twas quite a luck, I can't gainsay.
I don't know how I found my way,
but still, I reached my shack
I hear the beast's spine-chilling groan.
I know this building's my tombstone,
If only I could've somehow known!
Why can't I turn it back?

Moirai will any minute cut
my thread of life. I'm ready, but
I want that beast crushed by this hut.
Is this too much to wish?
What takes that devil so **** long?
Should I attract it with a gong?
Hey, freak, I'm here! What is wrong?
Just come and eat your dish!

But then... Two monsters at my door!
I started crying on the floor,
I loudly cursed, blasphemed and swore...
But then I raised my head:
"You found my brother! Sweet of you!
I hope he didn't catch the flu...
We need to go now, friend! Adieu!"
That's what the girl's voice said.

11 past midnight and you're still here

Through the looking glass you stood near

Like little Alice who fell in the hole

Falling down, your heart will never be whole

Hooded eyes reflected mine

As cold tears glisten and shine

What did you see in that broken mirror?

A look of candid happiness or pure terror?

We dreamt less, but we dreamt together

And only in our dreams we could see each other clearer

But such rendezvous will not last

When nighttime decided to end it so fast

We were not bound by that red string of fate

We are not even what they call as soulmate

For the two of us were just blinded by love

Which no matter what, we can't have

So through this delusion we can not succumb

Till we breath our last, we'll bring it to the tomb

Until Moirai took pity and give us a chance

Let's continue this endless fakery dance

Meshed into the cosmic fodder.
Torn and strewn; universal lard.
Maybe this is dying...
Oh hi, Moirai!

This pendulating plane,
circumambulating
understanding.

An existential game,
I didn't know how to play.

Went back for round two,
Just to test the subjectivity.
At first I was astounded
By the sheer volume of mystery.

You crushed, you pulled,
You played me for a fool.
All the while, mocking me
Like some bully at school.

Oh hi, Moirai!
No need to hide or disguise.
My eyes are open wide, now.
I'll no longer try to slide out.

Ever since I stepped into this
Buffer between the gross and divine.
Nothing has been the same (lol).
I walk the middle line.

Too A.M.
Electric, as laughter statics to music
and stars battle, self-consciously
refusing to be outshined.
Glowing, fires
an Italian moon
of the countryside
whispers, for a moment.
and forever is now,
and the Moirai dance
and the moon, bewitched
and souls intertwined.

I miss the solace of your blue and citrine eyes
the anxious twist of the zephyrs in my core
Stilled near you,
Standing in cool shadows beneath an oak—
The heart tree your parents
Planted when you were born
still mewling as white coats pricked your tiny feet
The hunger they induced that never quite left you.
Still, under your branches
I was safe.

I remember the night
Lachesis plucked a few more inches
From her spool
And you wrapped them around your finger
Driven by ****** of dread
Drew me into your arms, clinging to the spaces between my hips and ribs
Whispering into the curve of my neck  
that if you released me into starlight  
Erebus would ****** me away from you.  
And I had not doubted that you loved me
But feeling your caged panic
I learned the wings of your heart were strong enough to bend mine.

In the dark I am more skittish now
Untangling our threads
I unraveled the Moirai’s veil.
Alone,
I am under the crimson eye of too many men
Now that I am not
The apple of yours.
The Graeae glance down from their mountain
Holding their eye above an abyss
Words I always wanted said are
poisoned by unwanted lips.
The restless zephyr in my stomach stirs
Searching the nearest escape route.
And the softer tint of the world
has turned hard again.

But you are still the nearest sanctuary
And maybe it is selfish
To think of you so
But I hope I am still the same
For you.

Out of reach,
I stretch,
but still
this craving
cannot be fulfilled.
waiting
on fate; selfish ******
-always wanting more.

I scurried from my moss covered resting place
I was in a panic I needed to see the deamons face
So I would know what was giving chase

I looked deep within the dying fire, "show me goddess Theia the one that follows"
At first the vision was very shallow, so hollow
But then I seen it, and it filled me with sorrow

Because all I could see was the Cerberus
It had the scent of me, the sorcerers
Quickly trying to decide our best courses

It's blue-black body glimmering in the moonlight
Huge muscles gliding effortlessly, such a beautiful scary sight
It's three huge heads, teeth snapping, a true drooling fright

Leaving a trail like a scent, wafting in the air, was my spells
It was time to make haste this much I could tell
We will both be dead and torn savagely apart if I fail

With the snap of my fingers the leaves dew fell on the knight
Waking him with a sudden fright
"We must leave here you're to weak to fight"

Shaking the sleep from he's head
A quick look at me, he could see my dread
He silently stomped out the fire, no words from his lips said

He grabbed the reins of the evil ones steed
He gracefully lept on and pulling me on, off at top speed
But that devilish horse ran towards the evil one, He would not heed

I must think quick, this horse I must enchant
Into it's mind a seed I must plant
So I start a simple powerful chant

"Demon steed
Feel the need
To out run, succeed
From the hellish hound top speed"

With my constant chant, the demon spun horse turned around
And just in time, I seen the heads of the wicked hound
Along with the chant I whisper a prayer to Moirai to change our fate, we had been found

I scurried from my moss covered resting place
I was in a panic I needed to see the deamons face
So I would know what was giving chase

I looked deep within the dying fire, "show me goddess Theia the one that follows"
At first the vision was very shallow, so hollow
But then I seen it, and it filled me with sorrow

Because all I could see was the Cerberus
It had the scent of me, the sorcerers
Quickly trying to decide our best courses

It's blue-black body glimmering in the moonlight
Huge muscles gliding effortlessly, such a beautiful scary sight
It's three huge heads, teeth snapping, a true drooling fright

Leaving a trail like a scent, wafting in the air, was my spells
It was time to make haste this much I could tell
We will both be dead and torn savagely apart if I fail

With the snap of my fingers the leaves dew fell on the knight
Waking him with a sudden fright
"We must leave here you're to weak to fight"

Shaking the sleep from he's head
A quick look at me, he could see my dread
He silently stomped out the fire, no words from his lips said

He grabbed the reins of the evil ones steed
He gracefully lept on and pulling me on, off at top speed
But that devilish horse ran towards the evil one, He would not heed

I must think quick, this horse I must enchant
Into it's mind a seed I must plant
So I start a simple powerful chant

"Demon steed
Feel the need
To out run, succeed
From the hellish hound top speed"

With my constant chant, the demon spun horse turned around
And just in time, I seen the heads of the wicked hound
Along with the chant I whisper a prayer to Moirai to change our fate, we had been found

Ourn bodies will be as railways
Gripping upward boats
A dungeon of hopeless romance
A dine of domain ghosts

A amulet she shall wear for me
Up upon moonlights hill
Well thrash around in excitement
A heat of ******* chill

She'll taketh me to heaven
Upon her forbidden craft
Wherein language we shall make
And take and make in half's

Apparitions we'll become
Disappearing in ones thoughts
Lost in divine moment
No fear or instant loss

For me to write her poems
As for her to write them back
A mansion of many kingdoms
A house full, van-gogh shack.

As she will come home late
From work she will want to sleep
I'll rest her wearied head on mine heart
And for her this soul she'll keep!!!

We shalt dandle in silk taffeta
The moirai will tuck us in
Ourn bolsters to be as children
Between ourn finite limbs

As in between ourn slumbered coma
We shalt waltz across ourn own bridge
Where the other half is there to greet us
Half is hers, half is his!!!!

two people loved each other
but missed one another
by a single thread

in the same building
she waited for the elevator up
while he took the stairs down

the ding of a heartbeat
prompts her to walk in
as he walks out

they cross each other’s minds
but there is no glance back
no piercing eye contact

they simply pass by each other
quietly, surreptitiously
not realizing their proximity

to the hopeful fate
that they have wished for
but which remains unreachable

the moirai whisper, heads
bent together as they
map out your life
from start to
finish.
but what if you aren’t
satisfied with your future —
do you leave it be,
knowing it’s best to
not anger the fates,
or do you argue your right
to a life
that has not been planned?

Threads connect beyond the shade
the domain where memories fade
lost as a price for the chance
to bind what will forever last

one lifetime is not enough
to explore the high and low
when the bonds justify
exchange of wrong and right

to find the linkage to explain
somewhere past the present day
look to the Moirai that allot
the varied spans from birth to death

from the spindle to the slash
friends and enemies have a place
the end result is a tapestry
the weave of destiny still unseen.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191227.

“To linger in the coarseness of such tribulation without her,
Angel of unsullied which admits no stain I am a noble man,
Edges of decision apathetic illusion satiated in dreams,
Will we depict with agony like vertigo amidst our lives,

In need for something convivial of exploits and adventures,
I cannot choose love in the doorways of infertile sordidness,
Anima falls into the luring darkness of lugubrious calamity,
****** away despair nurture the exigency that is moirai,

Romance of every ideology torments the romance of another,
****** off the rancor and the cognizance of root anxieties,
Once an effulgence of brazenly resolute bond with others,
Beautiful in creation is squall to cultivate as natality begins,

Uncertain fate gets bathed from your inundated minds of euphoria
Clench  your that guard you through deserted nights of loneliness,
Inward images so engulf one seeking affinity of future natality,
In the lateness of the world primal lamenting not to succumb to
Infertile Sordidness”
By Andrew Guzaldo ©  12/15/2019  #176

The astral maiden, Astraea whom fairly puts
All characters to bed piercing the scales of
The crocodile- The Beneficent Immortals,
Amesha Spentas; for moksha living-out and out-living
Theurgically shaking the invisible numina of
Assiah, breaking darknesses moiety rolling asunder
Claireaudience wisdom using the internal
Monologues of the subtle bodies breath at the
Root of lights vibration. The apparition voice
Of the ritual of silence exciting the Moirai
Formula's of knowledge against the son of night
At the palace of Zeus, uprearing the final justice;
The divine purpose:- becoming visible of matter,
Corporeal, to keep body and soul together upon
Ceiling zero in the presence of the eternal consciousness;
The great watchers of the sleeping souls, loosely
Treading Via Lactea's path attaining
Immortality, burning up and burning out.






ELEETE J MUIR

Half a bottle of something easy to drink too much

any story wishes telling, not all find tellers
with time to think a story through,
from when to now then makes no
difference, if I think
or if I say, or if I write,

fold the swan and call it a crane, none shall
find the time to learn we
folded the old and put it away, in time
to think
ever
a fine place made ready for me, with
endless ink and endless paper, and air
to breathe,

- trigger guard, woven structure in
- not out, knot, one, none, zero
- from now to when

---

It must be the message I am, go, or stop,
I know not,
I wait, in time, a mind, as yours, am I, I think

in time and sequence one thing then another,

wishing and hoping and praying, eh
that
won't get him into your heart, you've gotta, I
for get what ,
I never wanted him into my heart, I got a key

idea, locked in here, in my horde of true
as ever, til I die, I won't lie,
I believe life is for a reason,
go

guess you know better, but I could care less,
really, a little less,
if you believe believe is a verb, an act you make,
an action you take,
to wonder if

yes or no, I do be
lief as not say, I'd lieve well enough alone,

Yes my advice, I advize we listen,
is this an infinity, as a story, that's all I wish to know,
does this idea live on,
as I wonder
if it did?

Richer than I, in some holy story too, tooo much too
perfectly accurate, as to details, how we all came to be,
as we be,
babbling fools, each speaking his own evil, curses,
foiled, or fooled, a thousand
times a child may try,
but once one listens,
this long, we have that child mind,
ours, to imagine with, and who think ye

calls halt to all we have begun to have as if we saw it,
coming to pass, ha, ha, teleos- if I may

this is the day of wonder, wonder, any if or how or why,
will you, willn't you, think
and join the dance, we are thinking time is fine enough,

now we add the eggs. Ha ha, we have cake in no time,
watch.

---

Yes, yes, happy with that, did I hear war,
Athenam Gabe ubforms me,
is goddess of strategy in war, and of wisdom.
Artemis is goddess of the hunt,
I stand corrected, adding that
I did know Athena had a city dedicated to her,
where Dionysian exostosis occurred, if we
have that strain isolated, those first *****
viral ideas, when boys sprouted horns
and girls were given eyes to see with,
see through this story.
Ted Talks
a familiar voice,
Live by learning all that happens
could have happened
another way, think
what happens when this works, Trinity,
did I give Feynman a ride, from Alamogordo,
did we leave his Plymouth, by the side of the road?

O, it seems
so, it seems, somethings are worth the time
to think
some things  have been thought since
Aphrodite was a figure in a drama, audio
listened to by my grand sons, imagine that

Zeus, I have  your wish, I laugh, I did,
I thought I'd died.

Did you ever imagine a thing like that?

----

Moirai, ai of my vision, my mission made plain,

I can complain, aye, I, may press the one point
I am
possibly past history or any point in time this
could exist,
I am the Grandfather calling war to task, asking who
authorized you, as an author from the last
generation of unaugmented parentage,

listen, life has never been so good, for so many,
ever in records, chronicles and stele in stone,
never have so many had it so good,

that's the truth, but
something seems,
off, a bit, stinky, maybe, cheese, at first, seemed
so, wait, abit.
think on this that has wafted to our senses,
as the prayers of saints,
and
that is an old rub, what are saints, and angels,
among men of my kind,
seeded kinds, my kind.
Mind your manners, be as we
dance the doe see doe, see the people,
we are those,
okeh,
I remember, I was a child and now I am old,
and ever is after ever began, and some
children lack access to Percy Jackson's spoils
of war,

who knew what when,
the romans, then, that sort of men, who fits,
the mold, the mindless peasant stock,
we are not those
proles, the breeders,
are we only breeders, we who read all the
**** and Jane,

and some of Huckleberry Hound.
?
Hounds, reminds me, this guy,
his name was maybe, Christelli, but
I would not swear,

he said that when I wed, he would give me
a blue-tick hound, from his champion *****,

so I wed, that blonde from Cuyguna,
But Tony Christelli, he re
nigged on me, left me,
waiting for the dog, that I would have loved,
like a boy loves a dog,
I would have, no doubt,

ah, we see the crowd of mortal witnesses,

did we listen this long, and leave, walk away,
thinking
what will happen with those twelve baskets,
left overs, what
happens with those?

Hear this, old me, now me, listen,
in the air,
the story telling itself to our grands, our next,

next to wonder,
next to never know, as mortals never do, but
we tell of whens when reason was
a think we did,
together,
we reasoned, as you play, we
reasoned, bet this was worth that
if you could see it my way,
and I saw I was seeing
from where I was
con form in form
ing
thing
ing think ink ink in mind
and time
a word, approved,attested to, you

think we should keep kicking?
this from just past the lizard level, flee, or
wait
Pituitary instant, pow, that fast,
stop,
at this point, stops
abrupt
calm, no clench, wondering what cost,
do you have
to pay.
Horrible cost, un mentioned, gore, or
was it only

I don't know, shunning, or out casting, ghosting;

that. that  idea, we never had that, but in hell,
so this is that hell,
ha, work it out.
\
Besides, what if wonder if are not the same act,
in a play for the laurels?