My whispering poems My treasures My arch images My treasures They honour me Dead, creaking trees They praise me Mute, mossy rocks They worship me Empty
I am the Ignoramus But he believes he is concealed when blindfolded And he believes he can read minds Words written in ink on cerebral paper And he
This penetrating pain arousing from its sleep This pallid flesh hiding in shades These hollow orbits watering the ground Frantic ghouls lurking in my
Peek through the hole And enjoy the lizard dance Come see the lizards' dance Out of their skin See them throw their first tails Watch the hundredth
Some time ago And for a period of time I lived on another planet And in another galaxy Where time Didn't exist There were no seasons No nights or days
The autumn sun is restrained to wither as the winter assumes with its pale pride The last of life is smothered Only the remembrance of a season's departure
In a transparent myriad of men I stand, transfixed I am lost, searching "Am I the Crestfallen?" I ask There is no light... "Am I the Blinded?" I ask
The days lean against One another And glide slowly into slippers Of gathering darkness Eve walks with velvet tread Towards my orchard Sinks in the tarn
Now is the third season The season I don't long Cause it is here And you are gone You were the Incubus Who raped my sleeping mind Awake - pain was
As this path was never meant to be trodden by man These flowers have been nurtured for none's eyes These pebbles have never been washed ashore These
