One Day (It's being scheduled)

 

Fool's illusions Tempt The Bright Light That Rolls Together

Fool's illusions Tempt The Bright Light That Rolls Together 

Life is so sweet, 

and sometimes bitter.

And occasionally the light leaks through the frozen mouth of winter. 

To where our thoughts can't be contained, lassie.

They’re strained through the fjords in their rocky gutters; 

To run down via the pathway of tawny temptress’ spells.

Fly free into yon breeds for each heaven, may ye may go,

To every fruit of the fountain and flowers, where we’ll flow together.

Fool's illusions tempt the bright light that rolls together Uncomfortable and alone.  

September To October

 https://youtu.be/JN8UH1_m3p8

50 Years / San Francisco / China Beach

 

On To The Future

 

Goes Before History /Cats / Art

 

Don't let the loveless ones sell you a world wrapped in grey

 

Into The Trees / Chance & Opportunity / Choices & Chance

Greenman / DJ / Lillies & Remains

 

Unless / Victory / Crime

 Fate seems granular, it comes through in texture,

so shocking in the moments, granted grace via the patina of time

corrected perceptions of real, the seams...smoothing out via smothering the previous

("trouble, I have paid my debt, won't you leave me in my misery?")

A through-line is no longer available, unless you're a towing a car without proof.

A long line drags on time, before the plum of destiny drops to rot 

like soldiers in a field, where have we gone, to the beating of drums?

("She partakes of lifting the gate between the possible and invisible")

These fires, the orange skies of memory. The dust...

Will these deaths combust

what's left

of us?

No forwarding address for heroes who've gone.

Foundations and institutions...and graves.

The price of persistence, of the perception of victory

in focused pestilence. People And Poxes Create Boxes

(fire / braces) (kick) (trumpets)

You will not be king. 

This game is rigged.

We're overwhelmed by extremes in just this overarching un-eternal now.

Where the quiet reigns in shadows for the unabsolved act, like the eternal shame that goes nameless

into ever brighter colors for the memory-less future to shoulder...

We'll evaporate. (The forrest is haunted with burning trees)

-0-

*unfinished

Asleep in a blurred crusade

I am aware,

That the time

between us is limited. 

Water, sand and time all trickle.

we share clocks and calendars in the ether,

So, okay for indefinite fixtures that soon grow wild,

sleep, or waiting(waxing), no wings are grown or aligned, unspoken/unfurled, 

murdered and wise where fishes' tails drift into memory 

Don't be startled,

the cork is off the bottle,

the genie lives, 

escaped.

Art Process / A Chaos Of Seasons

 

Won't You Look At The World Go / Pffftt! / Self Portraits