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Carousel (Part I)

Partisan You

 

The moss spreads o'er our land

Laid to rest in shade by the blinding hand

Colors change, luster sustains

When mold is torn, a new crescendo's born

 

Sirens cry out mournful drones

For what our loops have sewn

Relying on time to complete repairs

There's twig scaffolding for porcelain stairs

 

Reaching for petals of merlot

Fingers climb up her barbed rope

Painfully true, partisan you

 

Sugar on their tongues

Fluid pools in their lungs

Sweat it out, why lick it up?

Our own connection's a confection unspun

Fear of White Walls

 

Clear endings purge

Beginnings emerge

Buried gems ring bells below

Embodied canvas aglow

 

Trailing conscious delay

The smell of decay

Predator salivates

Must enslave the prey

 

Foggy shield in his scope starts wielding its blur

Darkness creeping in a'drape, a figure takes shape

Clarity falls short

Fear found its mort, which had failed to abort

 

Cryptic it remains, unknown, awaiting impulse

Eating up the breadcrumb trail of my unexplored tale

White walls have paved its allure and charm

The steadiness speaks no harm

 

Prying happy smiles with clean, fresh sterile style

Apathy ahead for miles, and more to compile

In this dry time, darkness will prevail

The crop you tend will surely fail

 

Over smoldering musk scents, sandalwood ferments

Whistles pitching high initiate tree roots' slide

Hypnotic pulses on animal skins

Present the smudge stick to its grin

 

Forced in a tight cell

Where thoughts mean to dwell, they swell

Will man cry when his wings are torn off dry?

 

Pregnant tongues howl

Adolescent eyes growl

Feed with exotic rinds

To birth the silver kind

Upon the Clearing

 

Old gaping-gob, head ticks

Imploring seekers impound, surround

The stomach stirs when tainted tails erupt, blow up

Discharging such facetious... oh, mediations

 

Amongst these raging tides, upon the clearing

Natives summon a celebration

Keeping the embers lit

Keeping the peace afloat

Pull them to our bosom

For a creation of elation

 

Reaching for a distant shore, sea of clover

The closer to lust, the more he rusts

Dangling, frayed, and too late to delay

They pray and they prey

For robust and bold dismay

 

Surrender to the setting sun

As the dancing shell is hoisted up

Bones pierce the bark, in spite of our frothing fellows

 

Marry thine body with its bright crystal beads

Birthed upon their bronze provider

Shedding, they cascade down

To the parched domain of our departed ancestors

 

Heavy breaths, and a fatal swoon

Beneath the open hides, it gradually splits open wide

 

It leans with a faint, quarreled form

And red berries are ripped from their polluted tree,

While the holes are covered with a brand new plea

 

A healthy branch looms amongst the congregation

Sucking thumb, and looking into the sun

Sensing the mosaic disarray

While harvesting the short-lived praise

They soon will have to face

The Fourth Wall

 

The air is plagued with sin

Trembling within genetic lockdown

But absorption occurs

Blood boils behind regard

Letting weakness seep through the lard

 

Wander away to the hermit's hub

A kink in their hose is a “chemical flub”

But slip those depleted remains from shackled refrain

 

Infatuation with a blooming collage

This idol of faith may be a distant mirage

Away from realist sustenance

Which repels thine brother's grasp

 

A vivid moment of lavish resort

Enlightens with primal intensity

Memory is conserved

Through one's own will to preserve

Quarantine

 

His halo has lifted, it drifted away

And the people who choose black or white, he paints grey

Knowledge and skills are his currency

Their predictability a handshake

 

Their pillars, once ripe, are brought down in one swipe

To make the land our church, and forgiveness - unheard

A shrine rebuilt for all seeking sure defeat

The ones who dare to dance, limber and discreet

 

Plucked from his tree, pulled off of his track

Placed in captivity with walls thick of glass

Displayed as a menace, an infectious seed about

Warning those who question convention and its clout

 

Collapsing on a thinly stiffened cot

And fighting the stench from a porcelain pot

A carving knife lies beside fruits that rot

A clever plot, but his spite's all he's got

 

His room sits amongst the union square

An invitation for all to come and stare

Disciples of tradition, they gather in his despair

The chairmen of conviction applaud for their snare

 

His roots retire

Under this enemy choir

Whittled and weak with desire

Entwined in a patient pyre

A Sterile Draft

 

A silk cocoon has cradled its womb

A sterile draft has awaited my craft

 

Beasts align when the time is mine

Forcep hands bring inverted dance

 

We relay thoughts of our inner-sense lost

Casting beams feature naked sleeves

 

Wrenched into disfigurement

We summon up new measurement

 

Limelight dribble under lunar light

Conductive drivel under hyper's sight

 

The juice of fertility

The jewels of hostility

Bundle's Bolero

 

Forming prophecies from all the smoke that's been released

Finally finding fortunes in the drunk, sunken tea leaves

Caught between the fields of green and seductive serpentines

 

A diluted resolution

Flails his arms for that fake farm

Hugging its feet for the blessed retreat

 

Pounding form into the dirt over rotting finds

Infertile and bitter with no means of taking flight

Soaking into the flytrap that robotic apes contract

 

Through ebb and flow, with a coarse touch

Remove our inherent crutch

Prod the laughing foe to confront their chateau

 

Solitary ventures have fallen short in their packs

Blood of infectious broods leak into the source of facts

Lactations contaminated in the hostess' breasts

 

Cast them into the coiling flux

Forge your spatial communion

And sit in the garden I've eaten, in peace

Persona Non Grata

 

Trudging muscles ache in heavy snow

Body damp with freezing sweat in bitter cold

Nightly wind cuts dry, brittle skin

Stomach empty from a fruitless hunt

 

Meadow below, distant lights show

A tiny village nests beneath mountain shields

So, I draw near the bustle of sounds rising

From the tired evening silence

Their hands held out to me

With warmth, they take me in

 

They clothe me in wool,

While leading me to a crafted stool

In front of cakes and ales

Encircling laughs and dancing

With no regard for daily chores

But my glass is kept full

 

Dawn beams unto thine face

But there's no change of pace

An absence of wear in their chase -

It seems a trifle odd

Yet I want to learn how this beauty is preserved

No pain, but how can such things reign?

They say I should refrain

 

My thoughts are warned through persistence

For to ponder is to wander away from paradise

I insist on my help, and the peace breaks

Fires are set ablaze

Hypnotic movements form a haze

 

Their actions turn aggressive and their words all become brash

Their bright eyes become pitted and their smiles turn to snarls

I fear the intent with their gaze aimed at me

To become? Or to be chastised?

I'll be on my merry way!

Carousel (Part II)

Carousel

 

He fulfills the beast he was born to be

Under guides who gauge his brawn

And apprehend the weak beneath,
Finding no faith of his own

 

Though we all pull from the same flame

She carries the torch, as she was taught

Without igniting her own

 

Amongst ornamentations of our carousel

We all look out to see

Kaleidoscopic views beneath

The blurred but indiscreet

Revealin' a motion suite

 

Often left unnoticed, we step off its course

Into the stillness of a fugue-state

While stumbling in its tow

 

A stupor of clarity disarms

The warm numbers of marching piles

For no longer do they dilute the stale taste

Held in the open mouth of a stumped face

 

Your own cement shoes bind you to the love and justice, true

The carousel still turns

But porous minds will be tapped into

Then wrought dry for their aesthetic stew

The Hand

 

Days soon turn late, offering up our dirty plate

Limbs are weak, though the mind's not beat

But for just a moment, they take a seat

 

Then from below, like the ugly bridge troll

The covert anchor pulls toward the hand, which speaks intent

Of some wriggling divine plan

The body chokes in its dense, composed repose

 

If your grasp is short, and temper's alike

That quick-slipping grip may spike a sharp, cursed reich

And those who strike will end up on a pike

 

So, while you carry out your sentence of life in fluff toil

Know the hand's coy hydra coil

Will bring you into Earth's soil

Before you get to swallow the spoils

Bright Within the Darkness

 

A vast frontier coaxes the will of one

Within the embrace of absurdity

But when purgatory emerges in loops and chains

The victim basks in surreal lamentation

 

Then from the fog, appears tribes of garnished masks

Breed for their dimness and utility

Armed with their chic clubs, sharing mirrored interplay

Convinced they make inherent idleness graceful

 

Though weak, their numbers are high

They advance in parallel, hitching to a tailcoat path

Solo in thick company, blocking the deviant

 

Drifting in tandem, forming whirlpools at random

Speaking for all, they take our name

Aimlessly trapping the ripe in their net of hype

Soiling reputations within their mediocre frame

 

Ears are boxed if fresh sounds escape

Eyes are blinded and the vision stolen if a new way is seen

Tongues are cut from the mouth holding bad taste

 

If bright minds rise above the cold, dense darkness

Stories will shed on the present

Abandon course, and there'll be no trace to follow

Placing the reigns of fate in callous, red hands

Wild Animals

 

How hard, and for how long, can one scream

Into the silent stillness of a dream?

The heart is strained,

Losing its voice from infinite exclaim

A soft caress from a consoling breeze

May bring contorted ones down to their knees

The hands are sore,

Lying before some empty frontier door

This wall I've pushed against is solid brick,

And not knowing how thick still makes me sick

The boulder falls

From my shoulders, exhaustion has me crawl

The infantry retreats to the long journey home, alone

Their emotions burned bright

But now are numbed, muted, and out of sight

 

Are my wild animals now free,

Or in their cage, by carousel decree?

If part of them is still awake

Will they know what's at stake?

Through the Teeth

 

Dilated eyes may help one praise the satyr's side

Compelled by themes so subtly disguised

But when terms of contrast slowly stretch thin

They turn wary of their aching skin

 

Can the realist point out delusion?

Or are they just blind to our most dire times?

Is letting them be, setting evil free?

Is waiting to pull up the roots of fate much too late?

 

The door of compliance shan't gather moss

Mobility puts the mind of intimate loss at ease

Hanging from a hope that won't elope

The hills are steep - plagued with yearnings, endlessly deep

 

A fool's been tamed, and so resumes our silly game

Tired, he peers through the teeth of honesty's choir

Waiting for Saint Nick to bludgeon him on the head

With gifts to help alleviate this Earthly dread

 

Armed with an indiscernible language

This voice projects a muted frequency bridge

Never to be heard by those who don't care

But to resonate with the lustrous soul, aware

Mirror of Majesties

 

Their demigods are figures of the past

Praised for their outcast contrast

Yet they aim to replicate all that their majesties hate

As the unsung heroes of the present are left famished

And without a stamp, they're left abandoned

 

If there's a desire to persuade

They'll only sense doubt in your ways

Advice from their device guides to entice

Passions that are discarded when new updates arise

Though each day never lets go

They're just too aloof to ever know

The burden of accumulation will linger and hiss

Consciousness is a curse, as ignorance is bliss

Behind the walls that they've built

They are deep beneath their quilt and warm facade

It feels secure and safe amongst the mob

Riding the wave of some collective, muffled voice

So far apart from reality's swollen heart

 

They drain the blood from their own

From high up on their throne and reap the loot, feeling astute

But at the root, they're just some remnant pile of bones –

Catacombs of someone else's relic moans

Crushing skulls in hell-bent march

Feasting on insecure à la carte

Only the victors will do the writing for us

While the seconds all go to waste

 

There cannot be creation from destruction

If the liberated spores are all erased

Child Kingdom

 

Are you “The Child”, or just an oaf of this mercy mild?

Set out to sea! Art thou now free? We'll see!

 

Was there betrayal of a soul once lone and feral?

Will "Nothing" congeal? Is evil real? Feel!

 

Can you see beyond the trees?

Did you climb the highest peak?

 

Have you found comfort in the mirror that you chose to hold?

Do you see you, or those who froze? Who knows?

 

Warming your bones with thoughts of eagerness that once rose

But, now you wait. Where is the bait? Too late?

 

Shivering in this year's first rain,

Molting your cares away

 

Reach for the clouds in desperation – you gave your vows!

Turn on “delight”! No room for “fright”! Alright!

 

Harness the laws the child kingdom once had you gnaw on

They once seemed trite, but now are quite finite

 

Eternal youth comes in a mead of blood and honey

Solitary Dances or Incantations for the Hopeful and Hopeless

Endless Migration

 

Hooves drummed upon high hills

The sowing and harvests began

Damp doors shoved us out into swill

While swords slept sound in our hands

 

The icy rain fell monotone,

Then hard came down the hail

We never reached the peaceful port

When into ourselves, we sailed

 

Luminous flowers erupted in bloom

With the nature of souring wounds

And in the depths of their cold, rose-flesh

We were destined to be consumed

 

En masse we moved like mastodons

Slow footprints in fresh, fallen snow

Driving hard into each bleeding dusk

What we sought had already flown

 

Our failing future was fragrant

Which was why some chose to flee

Had they not joined the trail-blaze

They'd be gravel beneath our feet

 

The ruling jaws locked tightly on

The most aggressive and resistant,

While those wandering curiously

Were given potions at a distance

 

Bargaining for the comatose muse

With their compliant and static souls

A submissiveness fit for breeding use

Gagging hard under idle control

 

Success only sat down at the foot

Of the bed of the rich, jeweled dead

While those with the millstone collars

Chewed on their last, remaining dregs

 

We are what we eat – the new livestock

Enduring our exhausting lives

Cradled by cages, caught in a deadlock

Chaos guiding our severed minds... into despair

 

More crop, more domestication, less symbiosis

More destruction, less space, more anchored, less exploration // diet less diverse

 

More disease, more death, more births, more work, more resources

More property, more possessions, more greed, more enemies // less harmony

 

More concern, more laws, more rulers, more walls

More maintenance, more slaves, more myths, more fear, more allegiance // less time, less aware

 

More dependency, more trapped, more isolated, less free, more pain

Feathers of Fidelity

 

The kelinky, pot pot chee

Of the great, old hollow tree

Would enter the shards

From hellfire swooping down

To the sides of their fallen brethren

Through conditions, dire

 

The feathers of fidelity

Will beckon their flaccid flag

For embodiments of virtue
Ignite the threatening, saintly stag

 

 

The kelinky, pot pot chee

Of the great, old hollow tree

Nest there no more

For their wise and noble abodes

Fell by the same malignant roar

 

With the last ounce of honor ousted

A wholesale slaughter of goods

The righteous never had rights

They were all impaled right where they stood

 

 

Chipped and chopped, peeling off their gown

Though high above they never looked down

Those who bear the caring crown

Are those who are hunted down

​No​​t left to rest nor to rot in peace

Not for soil to absorb and eat

They were treated and embalmed

Preserved like a psalm of living dead meat

 

Their bodies stacked as ramparts

Murdered pillars meant to protect

The correct living from foreign forgiving

Where honest actions don't seem suspect

 

 

Hiding behind carcass barricades

Buried deep within a fortress built

From the forest which in haste, it did replace

The true source of our enforced guilt

 

All hell is hailed by fanciful freaks who flail

In fading fads stirred with feathers and fur

Hieronymus Harp

 

I know that I have long been doomed

To the realm of eternal terror,

But the ironic laughs resume

When I find I'm already there

 

Hell, for me, is all that we've built

With our sick, imaginative quilts

Where escape is our one desire,

Married with excuses to retire

 

Our decisions help us deteriorate

But with a closer look, our minds dilate

While a solid offering will banish

What long ago should have vanished

 

 

We looked out our blurry windows

Where there once were the gaping holes

But now we've drawn heavy curtains

So we can scroll through deep loopholes

 

I'm strung up through taut steel strings

Of the sharp Hieronymus hell harp,

Ceaselessly, she saws and she sings

To the screams of all my ripping scars

 

The language of prayer I'd refused to speak

For I'd rather hang tight than be

Flushed out the swollen derriere

Of our devil on his night chair

 

 

Wisdom ruptures the refuge dome

While my pleas hoist up the mainsail

To safely return to rooted homes

Before our fragile lifeboat fails

 

But we'd be not mortified, should we capsize

For they've siphoned our pride

And replaced merry attitudes

With a myriad of plain platitudes

 

Is the imminent any more tragic

Than a birth into this world of woes,

If we're ruffled by natural magic?

When the new enters, the old goes...

The Unmoved Mover

 

Some fear the nothing, eternal


While some find it a sweet relief

Some fear our abundance of freedom

Armed to their cut teeth

 

Everywhere that I go,

There is nobody nowhere and though

Our landscape's a pale unknown

They are incontinent plateaus

 

Some believe that the unmoved mover

With his horseman of minty green
 provide

A meaning outside what we may prefer

Pray tell, oh, flawed creator of our lives

 

 

Choices may be illusions

But right now, control is what I feel

I don't give a damn if they're predetermined

I won't be forced to kneel

 

Restrictions will wind us up

Yet we renounce responsibility

Allowing fabled, bad, blind faith

To forge cacophonies

 

People are more easily fooled than convinced

That they've been fooled, it's been said

Their teeth sink in each time we flinch,

And when we struggle, their grip tightens to further embed

 

 

His cart has an axle that creaks

Though it drips with dead human grease

Our sorrow now guzzled with glee

Stabs a soft self-effigy

 

Emerging from the evil wilderness

Outside Meinong's Jungle gate

I glimpse the idolatress

Who states that we're not safe

 

Mounted upon seven beastly heads

She raises the chalice of martyr blood

And in her scarlet forehead carved

“The Harlot Mother of Earthly Abominations”

Elders

 

The line is fine between

The charlatan and the fool

Our children, they laugh and they sob

When their elders steal or get robbed

 

Quartered at the crossroads

By interactions which tether

The naive to the depleted

We're cheated 'till we're defeated

 

The vacant cherubs may

Put on some pointless play

From their hive, ready to contrive

Yet another game

 

While the all-knowingly insane

Fall into the high-rising flames

Of all that infiltrates

Their ill and waning brains

 

 

To some, they all may appear just the same

Caught coughing in a hall of mirrors

For in this locked furnace, we remain

 

Attempts to not be swallowed

By our ever-changing times

Fight the tides to grasp positions

Which tempt with prideful crime

 

In the end, will reduction,

In us, be implanted?

 

Or with our heroes spent,

Will combustion,

To us all, be granted

As we fall?

Return to Moving Silt

 

Birthed wriggling 'round roots

Up from the mossy beneath
Not a fiend, nor friend

Pass their rusting, wild sheaths

 

We bow before the keepers

Who hold outstretched hands

Soaring o'er the shrine of spores

“Survival” is our command

 

Nunquam obliviscar

Ne puero gladium

Homo homini lupus

Non timebo mala

 

Simple plans are sold

And thus begins her funeral dirge

Upon a stable stance of mold

The new evil's emerged

 

While distant, echoing mirths

Engrave a fashioned path

The flick'ring torch of Earth

Lifts its weight of thundering wrath

 

Nunquam obliviscar

Ne puero gladium

Homo homini lupus

Non timebo mala

 

 

What we fetch up from the well

Shows not our reflection

For surrogate dirt licks its kin

Spilling pride infection

 

To claim thine dusted soil

Is to poison Mother's milk

It's her, we can't outwit

'less we return to moving silt

 

Nunquam obliviscar

Ne puero gladium

Homo homini lupus

Non timebo mala

From Womb-to-Tomb

 

The first dawn had crowed, then sighed

All that was once near, soon became distant

The dank plumage gave loitering eyes

Revealings of strain, set to a resistant refrain

 

A horned crown sprouts from thy head

When salvation becomes salivation

Dead and gone means another is fed

To what shall we give our brute dedication?

 

Time slithers down the closing funnel

And with it waning concentration

Sacrificing the light through some tunnel

For demon sages of anticipation

 

 

The skills of which had been ingrained

Shall now, only accumulate pain

Through practice, traction is not gained

For our efforts are punctured and drained

 

With the boat, one is no longer moved

Though they're tempted by lures and bait

Means of escape are suddenly removed

But to compromise is to castrate

 

Visions erupt waves of deep concern

Inherent disorder will never perish

Harken back to a calm that can be discerned

And to its moments forever cherish

 

Thoughts buzz around thy head like pesky flies that will not die

The mind corrodes as they slip through each 'tempt to grasp

Our mentor becomes the tormenter in every room

From the time we leave our womb 'til we enter our tomb

The Twine of Myths

 

With our scattered rights and freedoms flung
These dependencies had not been wrung

But the twine of myths then held us dear

Wrapped us up, drunk and fraught with fear

 

We formed cozy covens of the wood

For a lack of evil does not one good

Where the twine of myths kept us all close

Deep in our hovels, where the fires rose

 

Fictions climb high up angel limbs

While their vines unwind in spiritual hymns

As for those unbound by the tail of tales

The twine finds the throats of the ones who assail

 

 

Indelibly woven through sinews and fungi

We're spent 'till we're bent, facing only the sky

With groves set ablaze, dark trumpets moan

Unleashing sweeping floods from our impotent thrones

 

Some perch on the wall, eating dung, drinking piss

Left with wanton hunger – curiosity, amiss

Our breath fans the flame, to lift and inflate our lore

Scalding fellow men who seem too pure to ignore

 

All our nations

Will die over generations

But as they pass

More myths will rise up

Like dew from the grass

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