boasting of the god of love's attentions,
this magicweaver lures her prey--
conjures forth her whim
seeking quench of fickle thirst within
attempting avenues of guile
numerously failed, and baits another heart
to suit her object's mate,
whose favors hail from Shiva
unto dominion everywhere,
  except at forest hut where Rama--
with Sita --honeymoons in exile
having snapped the cosmic dancer's massive bow
to win her for his wife, yet bound
by family word to wilderness
  in elder-shade of mystic eagle
guarded by their builder,
brother Lakshmana, in whose absence Kamavalli comes
to woo the godlike archer for her own.

little bells on anklets ring--
from creeper snagged
as if in venery yearning,
urgent vines would find their way to rest on skin
and squeeze in verdant rooting underform
prancing by, playfully demure
to enter subdued greenery
of Panchvati's gated yard
to catch the stoic Rama's eye
in invitation flashing for his gaze:
a sculptured form of flawless grace
nubile teeth shining from the forest dark,
a smile unassuming of callipygean sway
beneath the flitting lashes of her iris' swell

baffled there he stirs to praise her openly
as perfect--
despite his inner-goddess-for-a-wife he keeps inside--
with tripping words
welcomes and blesses this new girl,
exalting her with blushing queries,
sylvan surging rush to know
interrogate her mystery,
rapt in wide-eyed wonder verging beatific breath--
but learning of her lineage...
begins to plot their deaths.

banter light,
flirtations with a hidden, cosmic weight to pun against,
his praise asserts its hold
pretending bachelorhood;
his kindly, transauthentic voice resists
and in a sympathetic, skillful tone, promulgates
a drama to entice her eager mind--
ironic fancies of domestic bliss
flow from Rama, subtle jests
become her plight obsessing
into darkness embered with her lust
to truly claim him as her love,
her grandiosity defused in simple
entertainment quipping of their castes
and then with sudden burst entranced in luminescent rays of stunning rustic glow
from cottage comes his wife to claim her presence known.

the blow is dealt: Manmatha lays Kamavalli's fate: to self-disintegrate

jealousy to deafen gods, in cave retreat
to nurse her spite, surrounded in a dance
of serpent flails to sate her woe,
and only feed in ouroboros knotslip pulse
a lump-filled throat of gulping incite forward zest salacious
pungent flare of earth identity of fang and blood
the cry to shudder down a wolfine howl
in blast of animal, from screaming womanhood
the swoon precipitate-- vast height, abysmal fall
on being spurned by one who led her on
into delusion wrapped in sham an alter self
she met in bed a thousand cravings razing sanity
into a hate for moon, for elements themselves,
railing at Manmatha's haze infernal globe within and out
projecting Rama's face transfixing her inept
in wracking convulse whine of every cell,
her being sweating out imagined arms,
palms of his to cup her, lift from hellish pit of stifled longing never known 'til volcanically regrown--
in new love's throws an innocence of honest
selfhood found in him, bizarrely enemied in Lila's
killing spree of ego-dolls of lotus costume tracing all
searching through his fresh phantasm for her quelling salve
his diamond ******* targets for her soul
his broadness engirthing her to moan until her last in ecstasy
unknown asura-brew untold invented only now forever lost,
the moment fondled vastly gone,
his chest but gossamer instead of flesh
the emerald shoulder glimmer fake
the boundless confidence exuded in his
tender skin's encapsulated sinew strength
merely thought on causing pelvic quake
repeating there an apparition for her nearly endless letting out
he comes for her a demon double of her making
demi-god creator-demon vision for her writhing,
abandoned to the ambrosia torment he provides
wailing at the cavern sky her prison boudoir den
enscaled with slither pile coat of snakes, masturbatory wake of swooning still again

through to dawn..
in which psychotic break decides:
Soorpanaka births herself anew--
possession of her goal, or suicide.
the dewy spectra shines reflection of the choice;
rave committal forms its mould--
exhaustion hatches colorspray of plots,
braving mutilation to abduct,
lies and bribes surmounting each before
in ****** propositions to her ever widened bed,
else demonic armies loosed,
infatuate Ravana's heart
with illusory snare of golden Sita's rumored wares
to get her man alone and hew derision
with her desperate charm, by cantrip or war
spawned from deeper lairs of a broken,
fallacious heart, toward matrimony
or destruction bent













.

But soft, what flatulence through yonder rancid window breaks.  If it is the east, well then I’m heading west.
I wish I could recite this and I wouldn’t be talking about my life, but life is fair… just not for me. So I dive right in unfortunately.  And I bask and I bask and I bask.  Hold on, wait, please allow me to retract, as this occurs numerously within occupation.  I firstly divide the **** cheeks, as if Moses dividing the seas.  Like Jesus I break bread… anyways… my life is literally spent with my nose sandwiched between numerous people’s backsides. This brings me to my next point… I love my job… because I love people.  My favorites are obese people because they suffocate me and for a brief moment I am without consciousness and have not a clue of my reality.  The people I do it for the most though are the unstable people, you know?... the people with digestive problems that are so unstable they sometimes slip and instead of their body gas I am left with a face that looks like a diarrhea toilet.  I am a poet though and therefore I hold onto the only significant job related poem that I’ve seen on our restroom walls… “Here I sit lonely hearted, came to **** but only farted.”

Tremors of panic fork across the elephantine trunks of foundations which lock the city
And an obsidian rainbow casts it's hysteria beneath our oozing complacency, forever.
Like a shallow breath in malady - our perceptions lay bare as the drapery falls.

A thin film of sweat crimps along the forehead of a populous unawares,
But the unconscious primordial instinct knew
- The collective archaic nuances of thought,
Projecting hypersigils among culture & society.

It knew...And knew well, that something stirred...
Even the most macroscopic to microscopic
Fungi to woodlice to single-cell organisms,
From infinite to infinitesimal - blankets of nature
You could feel the earth rumble and twitch restlessly
Something was alive, something was wrong...

An electric current siphoned through the air,
Creating a dry snap - a crackle resounding through
the foreheads of all who were aware
- Indignant to reality, preparing for an overture of animosity,
Windows part way with darkness, revealing the world's symphony in excess.

A green sunrise comes early,
Tethering on the beliefs and superstition of sense
- Brilliant flares of light tampering with reality maps,
Igniting night as if it were day
Licking unanimously amongst the feather pillows - caked with sweat,
Telling stories of a night time sleep chest-deep in the Rubicon.

Pantheon eternal
- Bridges build across the volumes which bend comprehension,
Little semblance left, torn across this monument,
Like closed eyelids there is nothing to see but a mountainous black
- A sinkhole in reverse, jutting into acumen indeed.

And under a cold hand serving the child of sanity,
The eyes of all who watch - burn out like faded twilight
Rancorous from their cortex, defying even the unknown,
Emptying out a thick drudge bemused amongst the moonstruck.
Unworkable in shape - Even as the roving underbelly passes overhead
- Twisting numerously, as obvious as the unknown is to men who never wanted to know.

Yet our barbaric need to possess solace - to presume all knowing and condition the mind - Drives us over the edge at the mere sight of ultimate shapelessness or pure formation beyond the dimensions of human existence within the eyes and protoplasm of the brain, alleviating consciousness into a reversion of childlike states;

1. Fear
2. Questioning our life's fragile coil
3. Acceptance of powerlessness,
3. And finally, affirmation/accession:

Our own transcendence and environs discharging us through a parabolic saga of madness and into the agony of destruction and hate. We are Euclid in essence, harbouring mine and your requisite for geometry and ratio. The day we glance beyond the aether and into the apex of vastitude is the day we lose our humanity but also the day we lastly...

Postulate.

in this place we see about us, I will tell you a tale.

I will guide you loosely along a river as we meander.

Do not fret that what I will show you is known in vast and secretive, stations and nations of groups hell bent on you not knot knowing the facts, of this river flush of a full house i will tell , wait, full house is later, lets do the flush first. oh, wait, I guess you should be reminded of what you didnt know you knew, and this is so true all the way through,
That I will only tell you of the things you already know, just forgot, kinda like I did so.. here, wee, goooo.

What is an Azimuth as in and exactly as a compass azimuth, but a direction or an Angle, of the Angels sighted line of focus a beam of thought sound and light energy over a distance in a given direction.

What is an Inclination, but an angle of the previously said deerhearted best to remember these things, bare with me please, I can meander rather briskly.

What are these things of azimuth and inclination and what the hell do they have to do with Love, the Flow and curing this life and tree we truly be?

Um, let me start now by asking of sound and sand on a rubber surface sound through the tube hitting and vibrating this surface covered in sand, what pray tell do you see that shall happen? shapes of the resonate sound frequency of a three ( oh so many more um, ;like all of the dimensions, for we are made of the love of the sound , for the sound is the sound of love being spoken to us, Son, ,,, let that one sit and steep just a little bit longer...........)
oh yes read read it.   .... shapes of the resonate sound frequency of a three ( oh so many more um, ;like all of the dimensions, for we are made of the love of the sound , for the sound is the sound of love being spoken to us, Son, ,,, let that one sit and steep just a little bit longer...........)


ahem, okay, now that you just popped a small part of your ceiling off and can now see the sky , which you should do every day, imagine your ceiling is glass by you can feel the wind and the air as the trees sway and the clouds dance by... um, okay, so, azimuth and inclination and the three dimensional aspect of sound, Um SHAPE. like the triangle, so lets say we want to fight fire with fire, lol, so funny, oh, um triangle is um, oh you will see when you choose to fact check me.

so to create a real shape with real sound and thought the true light you are unable to see, and do it in a large very large size. then you go to locations dictated by the map and math, and then take a rather modest size triangle and lets say the base is the distance from fort smith Ar. to Fayetteville , AR to um, measure it out and them send a group of loving people to these locations and at the synchronized with the real time as in at the same time and no time zone bs, you direct your thoughts and sounds, amplified or not to the azimuth and inclination or angle to the horizon so as to meet at the tips of the shape of the numerously sided , your choice triangle and then watch what happens, oh I know, wait, what if bad people want to harm you or others you have told them how to go about a chunk of it. oh, silly, I own the joint, or a good chunk of it. lol j/K... or am I,, but seriously, dont worry, otherwise they would not have concerned themselves with hiding it from your far more powerful and RIVER of real life, see the sound is the love which is a the flow of a river, and well, try damming a river which has real steep flow boundaries, meaning not much in the way of a down hill run of a water fall, hard as hell to dam the water flowing through air. *(yes and thank you for the nudges. no really. please except this, I wont name for reasons, but you know who ya are there beautiful friends). so, um, yeah, see, they rely on you not using your tech, the real and true technologies that flow, or bust up impeding events or behaviors or things to the flow of life. for nothing is more powerful than love, and though love like water, AHEM.......... like Water, it is shapeless, formless a void yet remembers the will and intent of its focal adjustments, or vibrational surroundings.
What I have done here, for those whom are not quite sure. is just handed you the keys to your cage and the keys to this love ship and its direction of partial travel, though I refrain from the temporal aspects, that is not up for discussion, well, yet.  Now get a map and map out all the people you love around the nation and globe and family, you will begin to see something, I WILL NOT TELL YOU OF IT, for it is the journey that causeth the flow to be unimpeded, and dear friend dont forget to overlay yours with your soulmates. and BAM, oh My Fing God do you see it????!!!! will be uttered aloud i many places. yes, I love you, and yes, You are dearly welcome, and Yes, i am Dearly Thankful for you all. all, artist doing Studio time cause Baby Blue needs a **** Binky, to the person that never will say anything, but influences the world in ways and wonders none will know till the big celebration. wink. no one is unimportant in this. for it is real and really a big **** deal.
Ummm, well. Yes I am slow. but when it happens and I am trly allowed to, my love is true. and yes this part is exclusivley for that 4 you, know who. , maybe one day yu will forgive my far too loyal to a flaw ways, that caused some rather serious delays, but then again, the Love is never not right on time. I know cause, I am awaiting yours, and know and loyal in my faith that it will undoubtedly be right freaking on time. I love you silly, so giggle, **** it. giggle. please. I cant bare you not laughing. smile for me. you silly funny face, you my peach fuze loves, my perfect side of the moon and tiny soft tattoos too. yes you silly. and it is me, werewolf feet and all. ugh, yes, have you not seen my ****** ugly *** feet folks. geez, lol. wink.

Quietly, quickly, inconspicuously, daringly, cautiously, knowingly, doubtingly, forcefully, confusedly, consciously, uncontrollably, thoughtfully, dumbly, numerously, abusively, blatantly, spontaneously, thinking of the blank, black, silence that engulfs my being every nocturnal moment I remain frozen in the banks of reality waiting for the hypothetical trigger of the hypothetical gun to be ripped behind its epicenter to allow me the will to be woken from a death that had been disrupted by a millimeter of flame from a centimeter of a stars everlasting life within a never lasting cycle of momentary aliveness in a stillness that ceases to be as such.

Wondrous, beautiful, shining white lights
Speckled numerously before my balcony
I close my eyes and breathe in the saccharine air
Oh, I revel in thy beauty

The city so sleek
So embodied with life and love
My home, my divine metropolis
Reflected, with dotted light, most evenly in the sky above

I could never imagine somewhere as precious as her
With so many things, I have and yet to see
I open my eyes, letting the sapphire sky
Bathe me in serenity

That tree that stood tall...
 
Years of knowledge ingrained in its ligaments...
(Numerously choked by its own rings)
 
I still see our carvings...
(The haunting scars imbedded deep into the bark and our memories.)
 
Hieroglyphic memorials for our first everything...
(The dates of which things died.)

The knot furled into its center...
(Forget-me-nots decaying at its very roots.)
 
Do you remember?
(How hard was it to forget?)

..........  I believe that killing has perhaps always been in my blood. Once out the womb I was forever drawn to the fascination of death. As a kid I'd tend to **** bugs, which turned into birds and other rodents around my yard. My mom thought it was disgusting but could never get me to stop. On the other hand, my dad figured it was just a boy thing and it was good that i enjoyed being outdoors.
      My father was always an outdoors type himself. He enjoyed taking me fishing on the weekends. As well as the gun range to practice my shot for when hunting season rolled around. Now that was heaven on earth to me. I'd never miss any shot i took and my dad was glad to be carrying a legacy down to me.
      It still haunts me to this day that my parents were murdered in my own home. Why wasn't I there to save them? Why couldn't it had been me? So many questions and very little answers. There was only one answer I could ever think of.. Revenge.
       Asking around only made the people suspicious of me. Being an 18 year old kid trying to solve my parents ****** seemed stupid at the time. So i joined the military to learn all the aspects of war. ******* the enemy, traitors, even fellow soldiers left for dead. If i ever had a soul it was gone by now.
   Returning back to my home town was nostalgic. Twenty years older and I had one mission on my mind. My old house was sold in auction to a bank but based on the gruesome murders nobody had yet to occupy it. Perfect chance for me to scope out for clues. Any evidence I could find that could help in the search would be worth it.
     Lucky for me, nothing was touched in that house since that day. Felt off that it wasn't cleaned up and labeled for sale. The realtors had visited the house and left nothing disturbed. Was the bank covering something up?
        It was easy for me to find blood that had never been cleaned up but testing old blood was rather tough. Fingerprints were numerously left by the detectives, my family, the realtors and me. After a few weeks of searching over and over i came across a dusty old bandana. Why it was never in the hands of the cops , puzzled me.
     A few hours later i had found a partial fingerprint from the corner of the coffee table. I picked it up with a piece of tape and put it away. Something about  finding those two things together after weeks of nothing sounded rather fishy. I figured i'd give it to my old friend in the force but I wondered if he was someone I could still trust.  Could it have been a setup to throw me off my vendetta?

     Over the phone I had asked my old buddy from the force to meet me at the Moonlight Diner. From there I had asked if he could return an old favor. I was able to get his troubled son a job at the base and that shaped him up pretty quick.
         " Hey Dan, long time no see, how's it been?"
         " Hell of a lifetime ago, thought you forgot about me."
         " Nah, i'd never. I just got into town and been getting stuff together y'know how it is."
          " Excuses," he says and points to the table to sit.
Our waitress than approaches us with menus and asks us about our drinks.
          " Mm, some sweet tea would be lovely, you Dan?"
          " Sweet tea? Hell nah my diabetes would wake up and **** me. I'll just have a coffee. Black."
  He readjusts his hat and looks back at me.
         " So, what caused you to want to meet up this late at night?"
         " Well, i'm here to call in that favor you owe me."
         " Favor? ****, well what is it?"
          " Well, I've been looking into my parents ******..," and i stare at him awhile to see if he budges. " and anyways i'm pretty sure i found some evidence."
          " Evidence? You must be a **** fool, now you know its been decades since that happened. You need to learn to let that go. I understand it's still tough after all these years but the only thing you're going to find is dead rats and a bunch of dust in that place."
         " This bandana wasn't here a few weeks ago when I searched. Isn't that fishy? And look, I found this fingerprint. Maybe if you can test this on the low we can find a match."
       " The military done got into your head didn't it? You think I can just run evidence like nothing? Even if it was real, someone would catch me."
        " Look, it could probably be nothing. For my own sake Dan, this is all I got to go on."
        " I can't just reopen a case because you are feeling desperate."
        " You don't have to reopen it. I just want some tests , that's all. If nothing comes up I will personally back off and you won't hear about it again."
  He looks at me with discomfort. Shuffles around a bit, and after a long pause opens his mouth.
       Sigh. " I guess I can try and tell  the nerd geeks to take a look. I know they'll keep things hush hush if I offer them some food. Those suckers never stop eating. Got **** endless pits."
      " That's all I ask," and I hand him the plastic bag and the fingerprint entrapped in tape. " Please, guard these with your life."
       " I will," he says. He stands up and grabs a few bucks out of his wallet, tips his hat off to me and walks off.

        Daniel Castillo. Been a cop as long as I was in the military. He was friends with my father but back than he was just a young rookie learning the ropes. Originally, he was from Amarillo ,Texas. Born and raised a southern cowboy he ended up coming to college here in Colorado and ended up working the force straight after.
         He took me in for awhile after my parents died but once i left to the military, i became out of reach. Still, a phone call away, he was the only one I trusted at that god forsaken time. Even had offered for me to join the force once I got out but the law never seemed to agree with me.
         At the time, I was renting out this worn down apartment. It was just temporary so I wasn't worried about living expenses. Not everyone knew I was due back in town so it helped that i remained quiet. I had all my leads scattered over the counter, newspaper articles, names of suspects and police reports.
    Eventually I set them all up on the wall, some with yarn leaking to certain leads.Still, unanswered questions kept me up all night binging on coffee or energy drinks. Reading and re reading until i'd end up passing out. Until, one day I saw a glint of light shining through the curtains and conveniently landed onto a name.
       Charlie Rivers. Female. It had appeared to me that her name was Charlotte not Charlie. Why had i missed this before? Had I driven myself to overthink and overlook simple matters? And if this person was female, why was her prints discovered at my house?
      Pulling out my laptop i searched for a Charlotte Rivers here in town. There were three. One deceased, and one was literally born yesterday. The last one was a 26 year old girl who worked for none other than the famous Glass Industries. My parents never partook in that company so what was she doing at my house?
     I clicked on her name and seemed she was an assistant to none other than Alexander Glass. Clicking on his name gave me his profile.

        ' Alexander Yuri Glass. 35 years of age.
          CEO of Glass Industries.
          Mentored by Professor Luka Glass & Rose Glass.
          New York Times mentions how "innovative and forward thinking", this company is. Ascending to a billion dollars in a matter of 5 years, Alex is the youngest CEO to do so within his own company. Originally transcending from Germany, he set his sights on tackling USA and has done remarkably well.'

        Hmm, seemed he was quite the entrepreneur. Or he just got lucky when his parents handed down the company. Perfect spoiled brat came to make money living off US soil. How lovely. I assumed I'd try to get in more in touch with this Charlie girl so i searched more in depth and found her social profiles.
Seemed her favorite hangout was a local cafe about 15 miles north, so I set my sights on making that my second home.
      My approach was to appear romantically interested in her. It seems she was unmarried and had no trace of a boyfriend ( or girlfriend), so this was my one shot. Looking myself in the mirror i saw a train wreck of a hot mess staring back at me. She might end up thinking i'm homeless, i thought to myself. After a quick shave and haircut, I set out in a fitted suit and headed to town.
     Steuben's Diner was a retro style diner, seemed like an easy appeal. Although, I had come to the realization that i may have been overdressed in a suit. The setting was more casual style, crowded with families and young couples.  Quickly I settled down at the bar and ordered a club soda.
       I stayed doing this every day of the week coming around happy hour and sometimes even staying till closing. Even the waiters came to see me as a regular. After the third week, I had begun to give up putting my things away and turned to see her walking through the entrance.
     So eloquently beautiful. Luxurious blonde hair tucked behind her ear, reached down her back. She had pale skin and a small body frame, didn't look a day over 25. She sat at the corner of the cafe, opened a book , and later her waitress came back with some type of alcoholic drink. Casual drinker.
       I sat and watched for what seems like hours but merely 30 mins. had passed. Figuring out an approach was one thing , getting her to stay interested in the conversation was another. My waitress saw me staring at her.
" You should buy her a drink, and your in luck.. I know what she ordered."
I give her the nod to go ahead and try to adjust myself to seem more approachable.
       I see the waitress point at me and smile. I wonder if she's working me up. She then turns around and raises her glass at me and smiles.
      " If you don't talk to her you're going to regret it," the waitress said to me and left.

Eyes in the back of my head, high alerted of my surroundings
Can’t escape my enemy, I feel terribly surrounded
Too many near death experiences & looking at those with a personal vendetta
Thinking that taking me out is the way of making their lives better
If I Die Tonight then let me go, I’ve lived to the best of my ability
Tried to change the world in every possible
Even when most don’t see the good within me
Maybe they’ll have a better chance than I did, suicide failed numerously
Can’t have anyone getting close to me, fearing them all using me
The hell is never far away but always lurking for a chance to strike
Needing any reason to take you away especially when you don’t pay the price
If I Die Tonight then let my spirit move on the next phase
Bury me next to my legacy & turn the next page
If this is my final stand, just know I stood for something
Representing those without a voice & those trying to come up from nothing
I’m no saint in any way but I used my God given gift the best way I knew how
Slowly rising above all expectations & feeling the jealousy growing heavy now
Paranoia’s gotten the best of me & I don’t want anyone next to me
Just so they can plot on taking me out after getting the best of me
The war is far from over, my soul just can’t be killed
Broke me down once & I’m slowly trying to rebuild
So If I Die Tonight, don’t cry just let me fly away
The Good never exist forever but that the price you pay

I have lain here for seven eternities,
Waiting to begin a journey
False starting numerously
Aching joints and mouth as dry as sellotape,
Ignorant of all calls to justice
Clarions unsettling my sleep,
Everything an interlude,
With mottled hands I pray to a statue of a blues singer on my mantelpiece,
Yet again I awake to the sun setting,
Basketball shoes almost comically big on my finger-toed feet.

Immensely microscopic,
Numerously individual,
Numb from feeling,
A puzzle, who's missing piece, is amorphous.