|
AVAN
|
Enough.
separate.
Dare to stand in His presence for one perfect moment and see if you will still relish the eventual ephemeral futility. But then this is known. Zip up zip down eh? The symbol in the sand that can't be washed away by an intransigent wind blowing before the primates started pooping in thier holes in the ground. All things washed in light. I say everything OUT LOUD, at least in this simulacrae, this "medium" of more than just stylistic representations. Bigaboo who are YOU? Yarp!! Yarp!! That's where it starts and ends with me. No prozac promises. No getting played for just a few moments of sadistic glee or the glitter of someones soul and suffering doused in gasoline to float up into bedlam, to streak madly throughout the thourofares of time and place and put a stain on ones name. No end to the dutiful ministrations. The soul of Humanity must be redeemed, but no by darkness. The olive must be crushed, and the gold gushed out and the current actuated, honor and power hidden in glory, in quietness, in siddhartha sandals just walk to where you need to go and abide there. yep
young lion wearing the armor of shadows.
how fine is your art of desolation? did the piper, the painter leave its imprimature irrevocably upon your soul? do you pine for that secret, the honor restored to you, hidden in a Halo of surrender and quietness. try drinking from THAT stream, that living stream and see something purer and truer than just the bent bell and dented trumpets and sour notes gone south of damnations chorale - out loud - three piles of refuse, three heaps of filth
i mourn, beneath the anger and the gethsemene echos - i mourn for the senseless abdication of gift and glory and hope for a trunk of gilded treasure covered in verdi-gris. Watch. That s*** is gonna wash off minutes or millenia or so.
i don't care! ....r..e me slowly 's the cost of doing business.
...
|
051219
|
