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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



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)



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

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