I wish there was something I could say
To take your breath away
But there isn’t.
I wish there was something I could do to hold you up
But you’re already there.
Your floating above me and I wish I was there
With your love, tried and true.

I’m your biggest kept secret
If only you knew the right place to keep it
There’s more to me and you
You know what you have to do
Keep our love tried and true.

Just last with me until the light
We’ll fight together to make it right
Grab my hand and we’ll both take flight
Destroy this preventer, this keeper
Time, which only gets steeper
And pulls on our love, tried and true.

Finding no cure, seeing He has won
We scramble as the shards fired from His gun
Keep pushing and pulling and morphing our one
Love, tried and true.

As day comes up we vanish with the night,
Its as if there was never that flight,
Time to heal and become anew,
Washed away with the morning dew,
Forever our love, tried and true.

king of all the children of prride,

a challenge

simulate the mind of christ,
imagine that,

but before that mind there were others,
fully contained

in the godhead,
******

the reference points we are mortal at or on or in or of or
whatever

withknown mitgnostic mag-I-artful-intuition ifity

springing, post clockwork world,
post atomic force augmention focus visuals translated

in virtual 2-d

a word. is. wide or long but never short and long and high or low,

without a very sophia isticated way of folding

re
ality into now, with you finding yourself beyond the Disney-ifiers

set with cubic ziconia tiaras holding mantilla veils

covering the window in the top of you head.

--- great message, I got a lot out o' that.
--- especially the worthship

seamanship **** preventer, look up, y' re

demption station draweth nigh,
we all *** rrecycle by and by,

jest, decide not to lie,

ye get by. And y'kids do, too.

Inside, there is an urge for authenticity;
for metaphor - unadulterated expression -
which strips my skin bare, holds me up
to whipping winds and striking dusts: I am the
  Tanner

preparing my own skin. I would trim excess
fat and sinew and soak and stretch it thin,
like partchment, naked in the world's eye -
  Yet I don't know how
  To make my words transparent.

It takes honesty to thrive in insecurity
And bare the storm that afronts all
  Being;
To make my words discreet
Symbols:
Pillows on empty dreams. She is the
  pacifier, the lover and tyrant - all in one.

So, I don't know how to show
what I want to show. How to
use words, form, syntax and
language to convey meaning.
I say what it is that I want to
say and that is all, no more
Than that. But that is what is
so
  naked
About poetry. The
  doubt

that interrogates every line - really - a
forced-pauser, preventer, wall that stretches
infinitely narrow across every dimension.
It is what makes the end. Never

  the end