

Scraps of PaperA copy of the Catholic Bible laid open on a chairScraps of Paper
two tickets on a westbound train heading for nowhere
dresses left in brand new boxes high upon the shelf
Grandpas guitar in leather case heading for great wealth
dreams of Shooter Jennings lying naked between my legs
praying real hard up to the sky for a land where no one begs
I can still smell the cigarettes as he sings his sad song to me
bout nights of passion in his arms that we know will never be


LachrymaeLACHRYMAELachrymae
Amber brown leaves like parchment paper drift away, Old men in earth's ragged garments, where the beaches and buildings blended- I will be the dust that clings to your naked summer feet.
These cloaks that fly above still pull me towards the ground, no flags to fold within themselves old imprints and distant sounds, nowhere do we roam this nuclear family, this nuclear winter, but resting now on toppled columns and scraps of air raid horns.
There behind the blackened rubble , there is a funeral pyre, with remnants of broken garden furniture in random pile


Maydayinvaded through darknessMayday
no longer a place for restful sleep
a mouth with no words and hands with no reach
a soul stiffens with each thrust
weeping for its voice
there is no more self
in the reflection of a rapist's eyes
you see them everywhere in you
in the mistakes you think you made
to deserve it
corridors shudder with flapping pictures
of life untouched and perfect
we give life away and give death a life
routine and ritual another on


The Dreamershell-seeking eyes scanning for remnants of the wandering artist who we cannot find but still delight in seekingThe Dreamer
moonlighting
shadows to blur and bend our vison to shake along with the constellations bellowing at our muse in nightdreams sullen
jewels of myths here behind torn puzzle pieces with the ends lifting and revealing this simple cardboard we mask where childhood still stood in the shallow waters
of innocence reborn
we are left here- yet so much left to concieve
--
gotteslästerlichen-Geistliche.
--
gotteslästerlichen-Geistliche.
--
"REASON IS PASSION'S SLAVE, IS IT NOT?"- DOSTOEVSKY
--
gotteslästerlichen-Geistliche.
--
"REASON IS PASSION'S SLAVE, IS IT NOT?"- DOSTOEVSKY
--
"Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark." - Carl Sagan
--
Beware - DANGER: Crazy people: =eileenirma & =brgtt! DO NOT: engage in any kind of activites like: projects, colabs or even comments - YOU WILL BE INFECTED!
--
تحرك يا هل وقت الختير ٫ بارد متل حجار
--
Now the gears they will fail to turn
As the lights go out
And the sun will be all that burns on our way down
(On our way down)
But right now we have to understand the problem
And overcome! - The Antidote, Story Of The Year
--
"REASON IS PASSION'S SLAVE, IS IT NOT?"- DOSTOEVSKY
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