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Thursday, October 29, 2020

cold water echoes

 













Without Compass, Needle Skinny Rose, 
pointed to heaven, lost in these words
in oblivious outcry I mend my first sight, 
whether it be darkness, whether it be light

Rune cast dyslexia in wells of cool night, 
in japanese gardens i seek jasmine might
with lotus skin deep as sleeping nomad tents,
my art i sell, my heart I lend.

Peacocks of nowhere buried tomahawks, 
passing further truths untold
my eruptive inwards heart of earth
 to shamans I unfold

a cave of ayashka, 
a hill of peyote
do not touch these flowers as they grow,
they are lines of age in stories written by the old

white tea and to levels of colorful rays i sing my morning song 
to early morning mist my passing season files I let unfold
to set forth the angel to the white light of the village hall
to find hope towards the fear of dying dreams that I have been told

soil and panther black outlines of design 
for Cambodian embarrassment of self.
Please do let me be sold as a pelt
the chains I carry but not as slave.

I died a million times for you.. 
&  I guess that tenderness is a weakness

More hills over cold water echoes
Clarity Paths - 30.10.2020

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Obsession

and the world could not get enough tears and splendor and my money.. a new life.. a happy life.. rejected?