Book8



	An angry jealous God fragile ego easily cracked by man's mirrored image upon reflection reveals only flaws of biblical proportion merciless mass murderer by fire and flood Tantrums, plagues empty ritual commanding neither respect nor worship only the measure of the desperate's need to believe If eden had not come with utlimatums from an ungodly role model and promises of an unproofed afterlife if all your messengers were forsaken Moses, martyr's and son What could we have become?		The light that can't hold a candle burns the bushel not the bush the hand that scrawls the walls commands the stoning tablets the well fed multitudes loaf while fishing for platitudes nets empty of beatitudes walking on watered wine I found him religiously choosing nails for his cross knocking cross fingered nervously seeking dry rotted wood disciplining the baker's dozen apostles against apostasy by preaching ten commandments per diem now his followers are legion his flaws forgotten and forgiven past ghosts wholey human my fears now misbegotten I love my only son



	Was is again just another's pen history reborn torn from ignored pages ashed aspirations of pyred sages tried before a public tired of inspiration listless from endless empty images wasted on lidless eyes opened by hopeful greed cries unheeded as foretold simple messages ages old		The eyes of the girl at the the end of "The Boy on a Dolphin" so latin with a half-lidded language sinned through the ages extrasensual, inviting, eternal hetaera to the world old lips bitten with lickerish and the neck exposed, long, turned a lubricious olive in love, a vixen almost invlunerable



	Once enamored flower twining crossed my granite visage with supple shoot that finding flaw in its winding probed its tendril to the core of my dry obsidian eye letting splintered light enter and scatter shattering the slate scales that lidded my vision gently forcing the hidden prying the unbidden emotions to crack me wide and while I lay thus exposed and open I watched winter wither my tender liberator my long awaiting beginning with watching her die		Unstrung harped and fiddled taunted until taut as piano wire, warped and riddled too tightly wrapped by the geek choir an unsung zero ascending the never ending stair escher sketch molasses moon walk mobius escalator mime out of time on the dreadmill's stairs of sand life has left you behind



	Treading the mill race's troubled waters unbridged and in an incomplete life ring watching the rats choose the ship to abandon appetities whetted by the moveable cheese leaving life's boat to be vortexed in the world pool's waterlogged currency merrily merrily drowned by the old will stream while the straw boss shirt stuffed to scare crows with officious rude authority manger manager ensuring the cowed are dollar fodder chewing out the herd bellowing the cud's ever changing flavor to an aire of diffident unethical arrogance teamed players earless, hipshot knees jerking toadying the line to a fugue frog march mooing the "just do it" duet		when encompassed in unidirectional conversation drowned in radio waves the hiss of asses reigns static of desert storms atomospheric disturbances of doublespeak earthmoving political spin moral navigation is cast to the winds the winner corralling the unquarelling



			joy is the provenance of aescetics and saints who removing all else find it it in their future happiness is the birthday present instant entertainment for placating children for ourselves, we exchange pleasantries past substitute achievement and prestige at best for precious little rest in peace nuggeted snug within the quip pithy truth's pit chips wisdom's tooth thus the gapped grinned jested the gist is life's not all its cracked up to be



	Delovêd, I have consumed the philter to induce perceived intrinsic value I have inhaled the famed perfumed quindecien potion for mass infatuation and viewed vicarious through your pallid phosphorous waistland My Barboid, androgenous ingenue Diane's anodyne accessorized to excess My heartless animal wild within the extremes of externally imposed etiquette and politically correct poise you nix me I am unmanned by your programmed kindness whatis whois whereis Love		Spirits claret red afroth and golden masqued paramours guilt with good cheer infused, furtive companions dressed as festive cupped close in taloned adoration to lips loosened and confused by daily doses of vinous truth and false courage A heady witches brew racked in frail vessels wrecked, falling retching in the drink drifting unsteadily deluded toward denials' shore too befuddled to read the message in the bottle



	No jingoed jerimiad from the citadel on the hill no blab, blog or blather Pacific is not passive rather a tabula rasa rivering undeniably through the sedentary inner temple stones an act of the indifident will within now shaded under the ununique jaded sun upstaged by the furious and soundless insignificants, distopics crowded in comfortable exile from the community of one		There is an eidetic message embedded in our very awareness to which we turn a blind eye glaring in the sunlight we are too infinitely small to bird's eye the big picture half a day dark the other dawning autumn the yawning season a leaf from the hymnal of dead grasses the ode of the timbered choir strains of organ pipe sunlight shafts red notes color the cold river of life Yesterday was iron gray on the wild and quiet beach I'll give you the wood smoke and wave hiss, but no wind what were the colors of mona lisa's lips I missed that question on the SAT of life still, on the unimprinted sand the correct response was Be) the tint of inspiration Leap year vaulting past millenium religions splitting the centuries entrenched technologies uprising apogee free far reaching the carumba of thunder and lightening's castenet the snare drum of storm drops tickling trout root and shoot watching which trickling sprinkle brings Spring stepping down the shore walkie talkying to the unified theory of continuous reality each pace a skipping stone's ripple of personlized space my brand of cartwheel glad arms galatic wide spreading high tidings waving to my bonsai mind's eye