Oneiric Ideals Entombed Inside
Phantasmal Figures, Craft of the Mind

Tellurian Vanquished by Dreams within Dreams
Threads of Reality Fall Apart at the Seams

Softly, slowly distort all creation

Daylight’s burning rapture

Has silently been captured

By the night

In darkness lies the truth behind the light

Sickly, sweetly smiling in fixation

Soaking, steaming, lewd transfiguration

Passion starts to stir

Lurid fantasies endure

Throughout the night

In darkness lies the truth behind the light

Shield your eyes against the burning of the hostile sun

Truth in light is a lie that can’t be seen

Find in darkness

The power to be free

Only then can you belong to me

Gentle, tender, caressing trepidation

Trembling, shaking let loose imagination

Set your spirit free

For in shadows there can be

All that there might

In darkness lies the truth behind the light

Together we can be all that we might

Help me find the love behind the light

And this girl comes up to me

And she says she’s fucked up, right?

I say, “What?”

And she walks away.

So I’m sailing across the seas, you feelin’ me?

And this mermaid, she totally just jumps right onto the deck

And she says she’s missed me

And then she’s way the fuck over there, understand?

Like … WAY the fuck over there.

Then I’m sittin’ there … at the bar, you know …

And the bartender looks at me kinda funny

And she says, “Hey, you drinkin’ that?”

But then there was no more to drink, you know, people …

So I bounced.

You reach out to touch some one … but your hands are made of metal so they all run away.

Everybody’s kinda funny and all … yeah, now you funny too.

Later that night there are dancing little sprites by a hearth in the cookie slicing hovel.  So merry, so merry, so merry are we.  I, the playa’, know just what’s goin’ ooonnnn, and that sprite is from the ghetto.  Supper becomes our dirty ground which we rat-tat-tat on with bells tied to our shoes, making the crops grow and the fires blaze deep within the eyes of our hearts … or was it the hearts of our eyes?  Perhaps both?

Consciousness lost, conscienceness lost, motion like three litres of high octane petrol in a bottle on a ship at sea with the music of the bayou nights creaking and chittering and chattering against the silence of the blaring “old school.”  I wish my girlfriend was hot like me.

Brothers, brothers, brothers … brotherhood at last.  Unbeknowest, lacking no doubt, brothers at last, though unbeknownt.

“Time to get up,” said the dark woman.  Her voice with thick and strange, like mysterious shapes seen in cigarette smoke in a still, dark room.

The children began to rise, some quickly and full of energy, others slowly and deliberately.  All but one, a dark little boy, no older than eight, with sickly pale skin.  The matron quietly sat down on the bed next to him and placed the back of her hand delicately on his forehead.

“You are still with the fever.  But do not worry, you shall recover soon.  How could it be otherwise?”  She smiled down upon the boy, ever so slightly.  The boy coughed.

“Will you finish telling me the story today,” pleaded the boy.  “I have to know what happens to uncle Kaine and the Prophet!”

“Ah … yes … where were we?  Do you remember?”

“They were in the desert city, trying to fix uncle Kaine’s car so that they could go back to the ship and make enough money to leave.”

“Yes.  And while they were repairing the car, a police man arrived and began to ask them questions.  That police man radioed back to his comrades for help, because everyone knows that police men are truly cowards.  It would happen that Jeffrey … uncle Kaine … they didn’t like the way he drove his car, also he didn’t have their permission to drive it.  And when he drove it anyway, they tried to make him give them money.  A sort of a toll, like robbers on a bridge.  And then he didn’t pay, so they locked him up like an animal in a cage.”

“Didn’t they fight back!?” asked the little boy in wonder.  He had heard many tales of uncle Kaine sailing with Captain Jack Wolfe, and they were the most fearsome pirates of their day.  They were the first real pirates of their day, and all that would come after did so only after they.

“No.  They were not great men yet, only young men, like you will be some day.  Young and in a world that did not understand them just as much as it did not like them.  In a world that was afraid, though they did not know it.”

She paused and remembered that she was going down to the beach for the children’s lessons at noon, after her husband would be done with his mornings lessons, and that she must make lunches for them.

“I am sorry, but we will have to continue the story another time.  But do not worry, for uncle Kaine is alive and well today, and so what bad could have happened to him that he did not overcome?” she said softly as she fixed his blankets, “I will be back with your breakfast, and a wet rag for your forehead.”

She smiled softly and ran her fingers through his precious hair before gracefully rising and going about her business.

A crew of matching oddballs parties
Sometimes
They sleep on the floor
Dirty or clean
It doesn’t really matter
As long as the music plays

And they know
That life is good
Sometimes
Life is hard

They see It in the grass
Green, growing, simple
They feel It in the air
Thick with smoke
Over a poker table where
through It all they laugh
And love
And live
They taste It in their food
Chicken and steak fresh off the barbeque
They hurl It up
When they’ve had too much of It
With complete strangers
And with themselves

Friends
Family
Lovers

Alive

And they all know
That It
Is supposed to happen.

Some of them see the darkness
Sometimes
Some of them see the light
Sometimes
Some of them see the things that no one else sees
Sometimes
There is only one
But not alone.

They love the ones that stay
They love the ones that go
They love the ones that are no more.
They live, and they let live.
They are alive and loving It.

They could be us.

Madness
Unintelligible gibbering
The crocodile smiles
As a drop of crystaline joy falls from its soul

Ghosts in the darkness
Spirits shine in the machine
And music flows from the bottles

What happens when they talk?
From what universe is the idea?
Reality bends on a whim
And the jungles fight against the stagnate souls of the dead

The Savage Garden (Thing One)
Conglomorate Paradigm (and Thing Two)
Forget the measurements
Drink the ambrosia

The story unfolds as the teller tells it
And if untold
It finds its own way
Through the quagmire of socialites
Harpies and Saints
They bicker, and they dance
And the whirlpool they form sucks it all down
Down and sideways into inevitability

I love burritos.

There’s naught to stop it
But what is
And what is: naught

And I watch the willow fade
Before the shade of ghosts
And I see that it’s beautiful

Watch them laughing
Watch them dancing
Watch them listen to my music

Sweet symphony
Sweet mystery
Sweet enchantments for your children

Whispers softly
Whispers calling
Whispers merry in the twilight

Float, you children
Float, my music
Floating happy into twilight

Call your children
Call out to them
Call the children home to mother

No more music
No more children
No more laughter, only silence

Forever laughing
Forever dancing
Forever children of the twilight

See the fires that burn within my heart

My eyes, they glow like a smouldering coal

Under pressure, ere my sanity parts.

The blood red curtain draws over my eyes

I lose all reason, all shackles, and fears.

Peer through times mists to a villains demise

Staring him down to see past all my tears

Might will make right if e’er my eyes burn bright

And woe to all who choose to be wicked.

Complacency and apathy I fight

To show that you are not better off dead.

Rage is a coal that I hold in my fist

Unclech, a diamond shines bright through the mist.