The Plexus of Worth

serenity saves, i would ask if it's so
i would wander and worry and gander and glow
i would howl at the heroes and reach out a plea
is there some kind of sage inside beseeching me?

we calculate naturally, pants on the go
little markers of makings that mix up the flow
and it's power empowers through tick-tocks of hours
and solely but shrewdly it coldly devours
so wake the One Spirit we beckon you gravely
if not the light savior then darkness enslaves me
and how then or why, the whole question remains
are we lost in the hills or hung up in the reigns?

truly ambivalent sources would carry the song of good tide as the apothecary
of trust and endurance for each one's own hold on the breath and the breach of the young man grown old.
for reaching out heartily brimmed with thanksgiving is nearing the plexus of worth we are living so settle your madness to even the plays of the vessel we implicate seething through days.

What is Bethlehem

Bethlehem breathes in my ears when I sleep and I wake to the warm rush of eyes as they weep and this sorrow that finds me is so close a friend that I sometimes will call for it over again.
Gallant and gruesome old visions of trial will knock so relentless like scabs of denial and wave over switch over ghost like embrace I am meagerly tied and drink up every trace.
Crossed in my blistering bones I do note that the feeling is only just that which I wrote and to touch on it further could scar me so long that the angels before me may strike down my song!
Never in haste be the criminal spirit that closes on callused old souls in a bind.
Wait for the luminous gravely old savior that lives in you bravely denouncing the blind.

Drunkwwise

Remember tomorrows, we count them relentless
Or fathom it sideways and settle remorseless
A clever divide in the stammer that stimulates
Live on the vine giving ripened to emulate
Magic that calls on you falls on me devastates
Progress that pushes me holds on but hesitates
Clearly a vision but feeds indecision
Precisely a precedent protrudes revision
A medley of madness that stretches the morning
And masturbates medically woken by warnings of reasons that resonate obvious climbs
To laugh at you feasibly, purpose in rhymes
The latter is all that can stand in your way
But the new sun is rising from spirits you say

Hands of the Damned

well all is a rainy day chain smoking coffee cup. heaven on hands of the damned but my head is up. don't be a bother my brother is better. hope he is hip to this hanging-dry letter. found out this mourning that most of of my time is spent sitting on rusty old stories of crime. jitters and junctions at sunny town square where the politics never rinse out of my hair. bleed out the hell in me something keeps telling' me glorified vanity feeds the insanity, read by some passerbye wretched and worrisome, slow down you clown there's no need to be hurry-some. give way and settle your family is roses and shutter in time with the door as it closes cause even the storm in my eye is the same as the golden pretender who's first in the game and if writ on the side of this turvying ride is the map that should carry us on, then never give in to the sadness within or the moment we hope for is gone.

swing in the dark

twinkle the night is a room for you dear. fathom the gloomulous plight of the year.
days are a number relentless in play. strung out by what all the normals might say.
ever the lord is my Shepard or two. drink about me when i blink about you.
carry me blindly like hens in a hole. share with me righteously feeding my soul.
set the world burning from lying in wait. crowd up forgiveness and fill up their plate.
rest on reliance and challenge your stand. make some miraculous thing that you planned.
settle on sideways and travel your mark. life is a swing that can see in the dark.

Million Day Marker

Share with a Milestone Million Day Marker
A Grueling old Griever, A fighting Deceiver
And off in the blue there's a perfect Enchantment that humbly grows up through the Vine.
It serves a distraction from blown up reaction by Dreamers that hide in the Pine.

Euphoria Blankets me shortens my fuse and reminds me that I need not put on a Rouse
For the weight that depresses as well coalesces with flight from my Spirited Blues

Long Old Steady

Good old Steady. Brown flat heading and support with creativity.
Long old Steady. Kept up by flush unfolded comprehensive.
Sitter of Standard all sullied and swayed. Passerby intellect curled in the way.
Terrible scores of untouchable names. Unshakable Workers. Unstoppable Sayers.
Unearthly and one. Undoubted derivatives sucking up warm wonder all cold in the corner with Holy Grass Holy Tide and Holy Visions bursting from the center's peak.
Warm on the way. Insufferable stands on the copious All, that call Mornings and Moons to come out before all of us, off into everyone shaking the beast; the most ready and worthy of animals inside us. The one that curves reality with a graceful bend that becomes us. Understands us. Won't hide us to brake a strong Roll.
What manner of time is pressing on through the soles of your tiring shoe?
What feeds the spring so preserved in your blistering heels? Is this how life feels?
Ghostly and glamorous remembers the day that we climb on surrendering Youth.
Surrenders me strong and so blatant and bare, with an Ancient fear that's facing me, deserving a fortitude that will carry us on through the Culture we Created.
Fold over Skies and Scapes we Parade on, the Light and the Ladder, the cold unforgiving regress of our climb. Strength to align retrospective arrays that build heavy and hollow to lite and full bodied to Radiate measurable meaning from madness, and scurry the Way and warm us in Play.
Or fevers will blanket the Weary and Wounded with visions, a Righteous and Reachable Plight.
A dreamy and borderline Mystical height at the top of all Triumph and Glory and Pride!
Enough to hold long and be scarce of the few. Those that will feed and fill up and then flee.
Better no bother, it's easy and Ending.
Settle and Slander, for most are Pretending......