no name

Two roads converge in a plasma mass
squirm and bless the world abash
though tempt you fire up my spine
accust' to things that seem divine

O' savor me, and gather me
to light in which the land unfolds,
when happiness will cease to be-
exhume my error, G-dly mode.

Ravish me my Shabbat Queen,
my soul will quiver through the night,
and world's unseen, my matter mean,
will capture the galaxies glistening light

The Journey

"Perhaps this day will be your last",
the man morosely said.
I could not move--I was confused
was I alive or dead?

"Surely you will pass today,
for it is written so",
"man will live and man will die,
I'll tell you where to go:"

"Cross the mothy mountain path-
at sight of seventh ocean last-
a tree of cedar-palm & pine-
will look at you and seem divine-

Two clicks past the oval lake-
a tunnel through the mountain take-
across the forest, through the trees--
you'll converse with the honey bees,

and then, perhaps, you'll find your mind
if left behind- a warning-
once you leave, you can't come back.
your mind, you'll find, itself does lack".

no name

My vociferous vocabulary will vex
even the finest of men.
Texting spells, enrapturing hearts
with my pen.

Starry hair, nocturnal eyes
combined, foreshadowed my demise.

Supernova

I saw a star appear.
Wondering-
where has it been for thousands of years?

Convulsing in its iron den
it was in itself.
Helium now--Hydrogen then.

Primordial light from ages past
particle wave, particular place
Star.
In time, in space,
I see thee at last.


Part 2--(pic. of earth w/ sun)

When I wished upon that star
boldly ball of ethers time
fall from far
but rise again--
leave it be-
your starry den

For when I see thee,
I rhyme again.

no name yet

I am a scribe who
when time comes
prescribes medicine
for the mental flu.

Rhyme tries to do
what you should be deciding
Instead you rhyme of Clementines,
of thickets, and of diamonds.

You blend, time & time again
into it all
invincible to time and pen.

you rhyme as if it's your first time.

*To bend the rules of space,
*To bend the rules of time,
chicken-noodle interface
causes me to rhyme

Blue gun ghost

And too and too
is really four, though
some will argue-
try to boast---

Too me, three me, four me, five,
Blue Gun Ghost- I feel alive.

What lies behind my mind

Mind.
I give thee permission to run wild.
Mild permission in binding position
creates a child.

Mind.
Mine your manners and i'll mind mine.