Monthly Archives: July 2013

Old Blood

Old Blood

Movin Slow

inside my

Old Pipes,

Old Veins,

thick with

that Deep

Dark Blood

Flowin Slow

Pumped an Pushed

along by this

Old heart,

Old Hands Shakin

Tired of Gettin

Older every instant

Don’t get

Out much,

Stuck here in

this Old

House with

Old books

an Old ghosts

Murkin in

the corners

an along

Those Old

Wooden stairs,

Old halls,

an Old


Old Walls

Where the

Old black

Eyes of

Old, Dead

friends an Brothers

follow me,

watchin me

in everythin

I doin

with those

Old smiles

that ended

Long ago.

Old Blood an

Shakin Hands,

the whole worl

jus what I

can see

from Behind

Old moth-eaten’d

drapes and

old screens,

Quiverin Knuckles achin’

as they

wrap round

m knife

And A

final cry

that comes

out Old

quiet an dry

Nothin’s the

Same an I’m

the last

one left

O that

Old generation

‘xtink like


Old History

writin down

in some

Old Book,

Not offin read,

just lyin

forgotted on

the shelf,

collekin dust

Sittin in

a pool O

Old Blood



in an

old Chair in

an Old House

Thinkin how

Long’ll it

be ‘fore

some-un finds

One Old

Dead Man

who already


years Ago



Greetings, My inQuisitive Imagineers,

My So-journers and Spirit-ed Volunteers,

Consciousness, (and Less), Pioneers.

I am being sincere and,

though it may be unclear,

(and seemingly quite queer)

That I herald a message most severe,

no mere veneer,

but the Austere Premier of Idears!

So listen Closely with those rabbit ears

and Try to Listen close enough to Hear.

It is no joke that with-in you lies

A thousand million Rainbow ties,

Your immaculate,Invincible virgin Mind,

strung to Every particle, from here to the

End of Time!

And listen closely I implore,

for I feel you’ll like what I have in store;

The trick to it, you see,

(and I’m sure you’ll agree)

Is to pluck These Strings and

make them Sing

A song you want to Hear!

And no longer hold old  Reliances

upon the familiar laws of physical sciences,

but rather Unleash

this unreplicated Pastiche

and let the molecules

Therein begin

to strum and spin (even draw

a bow across them, like some atomic violin)

And follow the strings

Farther within

and The deeper you go in,

Encased in a Helix of lines,

Learn to read the rhymes and designs

and become redefined in kind

Until you’ve reached the Imaginarium,

A limitless Inter-Galactic planetarium

Such a Theatre as cannot be Found

Unless you make it right here

Rise out of the ground!

And You, my sweetling,

Are a Cosmic Conducter

of the percussion of a Supernovic Rupture!

And you are the Instructor who sings

and pulls upon the Threads of reality

Beyond the Euphoria of Sexuality,

Waving Hands to Orchestrate

as the Strings

of the Universe Reverberate

To the Music of the Nebula’s you Manipulate!

Symphonic, Harmonic,

Ultrasonic, Euphonic,


Let the instrumental stardust of Ecstasy

Set you Free

You Soothsayers

and Truth-sayers.

Imagineers, Grab a Wand

And make all that you see

What you want it to Be.

The Hunter (and His Trembling Prey)

If I were you,

I’d Slowly back away

and go Back the way

I came.

Wolves can sense Fear,

And You

Are Drenched in it

I Hear it Pulsing in your


And I can Taste it in

your Mouth

And, Let me tell you,

There is Very little

stopping Me

From Tearing out your

Weak, pale Throat

and Gorging on your

Lying Lungs.

To Me, People like


Are Prey.

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