The Space Between DreamsI walk between the landof gods and monsterssearching the spacebetween light and shadowfor a familiar face.Every angel wears theface of a demonbecause Good and Evilis all an illusion,we all dream our owndivinity.Prostrate before the tree of lifehere the Holy Grail waits,Odin's own drinking cup,this is where the seedof knowledge begins.The shaman knowsdeath and life are onlyshades fading in and outalong the spiral which theyfirst dreamed into existence,the place where all endingsand beginnings meet as one.
Wake in VegasIf I could drink you from the sky tonightI would -drink the brown bourbon blacknesswith stars for ice -as the moonlit-salty neon lineseparates the landfrom the lonely battered void.I'll raise a glass to the sky tonightwhile the neon splits and the world crashes throughlike a broken necksee me praying you were here - through tumbleweed canyonsthrough all the static porno wavesthat crowd the space between us,and in swollen spite watch me clean my bony drunken theatreof all your hungry, truant atoms.(time)Fear ebbs - a sober starlight wakes mecold - inside paltry sobsI gather you like kindling from the ground - tossed polaroidsin the windstack you upon your pedestalwith you watching downthrough all this madnessthrough the bleached love/guilt curtainslike an angel.Watch me drink to you in the sky tonightwith me still caught in this thickening landlike a quantum boxed-in slave,like Schroder’s cat, like I might be alivebut I might be dea
The Anarchist SermonI like the silent church before the service begins, better than any preaching.- Emerson ~*~What fruit is left on Sunday morning?Days have past since the last ideato hear the pitch of life saw light.The children pawn their sinew offon unexamined vessels.We gather up our thirsty voicesand watch as they are driven offinto the moorings of our hovel.If I would teach them nothing more;“savor this, these delicate miles”until we sit along the pewsand stare into the quietus.
Pandora's CrackI breathed in a little dose(s)of caster sugar and cocoa dustbefore I leapedI dove in ear-deepto castrate this soured identity "Who I am"will no longer associate itselfwith the "was" and "had been"of "me"The rust that ran through my shacklecould not wear my ankle bonesnor the wings tucked in betweenI licked off my salt-covered wounds-all that once burned me, cured youThis timeI will be my ownsalve and salvationThis time I aim to amsparkle,swimming throughthe moons of mighty Neptune
Congenial LoveSomething resounds in me,In my silence,You –Forever acquainted:Infinity here and now.It is youWho is in me.Love, closeness,OnenessSince eternity. When I think of you,When I feel yourself as mine,Then I enter another world,Where absolute silence prevails.There, everything is different.Congenial loveIs a gift.It is inexplicable,Unintentional,Unconditional.I feel this perfect silence in meThat seems to be everything.Boundaries blurAnd time and space becomeMeaningless.Congenial loveNeeds no wordsOr thoughts.It is beyondSpace and time.Confidence andCloseness -From the significance ofSafety and certaintySprings inner peace.Congenial loveIs tranquility,Is peace,Is healing,Is everlasting happiness.Spiritual memoryOf you –Given up for lost –Dawns slowly upIn my silence.
seraphs and sinsyou can see thatthis is a give-and-take warzone,but somehow, we made ita give-or-devour domainand i'd tell you you werebeautiful in every languageknown to humankindif i could,but there is no such word in yourbook, only lists forranks of each side:angel or demon,succubus or cambion,creators or destroyers,weakness and strength,the broken and the never-been-brokenthe sad and the exultinggod forbid you ever decidethat keeping mearound was worth the fight'cause if you wanted me,there would havebeen a word for love in thatbat-skin-covered diaryyou never untie from your cloak(funnily enough, there wasnever any mention of my racein that little red book of yours)