fantasy land baba yaga routine
this place is full of why why not why yes why do we
want to know why do we care why, do we care why okay
let's get on with it, why the provider, why the fuel the
burn inside shadow leather wings claws perhaps we
have always feared the left hand path the underbelly
sort of outcome entropy entrails pray to the Sun we've
brought enough quarters for the mission bell and
smiled parades of exit wounds...
I burn with a ridicule to not feel
I use my intelligence to thirst
knowledge as a shield, peel and eat
shit shingled shall I ain't always to be
made a-covering my bad...
foul is, I find out
any particular malady
of wearing nice clothes
in a masked apathy
those clothes
I left out
while I slept
most likely
drunk and stoned...
a song haunting
with familiars or not
is often a part of our bouquet
our certainty smells
our spells, our will
what we stamp stirred
to beckoning, quickened and pulsed
our blur press finger stone philosophy
what we remember when
we realize, again
the nose is king
and the eyes are entertaining
the fantasy, our readying of the fool...
the heart
is our instrument
the body our house
rituals and melodies
tonal, tied or otherwise
those pieces of our soul
found, fallen and flown
that are mostly rhythm
our tided tolled told
our scents that hold
our every coming in
low crawl
to rain...
the pain
Buddha said
life would always
be full of...
EJR ©
Love you much.
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