The Math of a Thing

I walked out into the Sunset tonight, and for a second I heard somehow, this stage – as tones. The Orchestra I heard was amazing…


“If you want to find the secrets of the universe, think in terms of energy, frequency and vibration.” 
― Nikola Tesla

Leprechaun

Lord of Leprechaun Lost
Hidin – dismal drizzle dark
Chilling cooly cast
Within you’re Dwarven Devil mask

Sell a soul – full O’holes
For a crock – full O’gold
And whence upon whim – he’s at end
He’ll steal you’re soul swift
And the Devil he’ll send

Lord of the Weeds

Vast – Empty
Sky wide and lost
An ancient lakebed sleeps

Ghostly clouds wane and hide
Flattened – clay cooled night
This strange field of fright

The Lord of the Weeds
Wanders The Night Rule
With seeds and breeze
And dreams
And gleam

Shirtless and perfect
Tanned goat man
Running
Shunning
Smiling this dying
And wiping this crying

Chasing maidens through blades and hollow
While moon light glides bright
Filling my sky with forbaden
Luminous glow
Blue-black fright
And Skeleton white

This –
My ghostly glory
A haunting story

For in the hour of my power
Breeze blows
Thick witch – wet weeds

The sweet smell of hell
And deeds dark – drool
Winding wind – dusking this valley of sin

My words you heed
For I AM The Lord of The Weeds

Spring

The Birds in the Spring

Singing and Sound

Bringing me to Being

A Man from the Ground

Nothing else Feeling

More Man – from this Ground

Friend Fires

Wicked weather
Astral atmospheres
Feeding our breathing

Lonely
Haunted
Here

Wild
Weird
And wide

Like our vision
Like our hunger
Seething with craving

For color
And
Mother

Oceans
And
Emotions

Bright lights
And
Secret nights

We
Desire
Fire

Friends
And
Fires

Some smoulder
Some soar
With fervent heat (velvet hallucinations)

Some dead
Ashes a mound
Charcoal souls
Burnt thoughts

Come to my fire
And feed
Your deepest need

Dive

Dive deep
Darkest
Black

Depth
of
Death

Beyond
Breathing
Below

The
Lowest
Down

Never ending
Abyss
Abound

Dark
Down
Drown

Hunger
of
Hole

Shadow suck
Shadow prowl
Dragon growl

Charcoal soul
Midnight paint
Ink drink

Molten tar
Too deep
Too far

I fade
into
Shade

The Woodsman

Note: I wrote this for my Dad after he passed away from Cancer. He was an Outdoorsman…

This man explore Woodland
Runs Ravine
Rampant like Ravens
Ghosting over gully
Were-bear this wilderness

For fish flesh
For birds nest
For air fresh

This man Indian
Trapper
Settler
Pilgrim
And the Woodsman

He understand this land
The Sand
The Canyon
The Salmon
And the Manna

Tree branch hands
Sprawl and Span
All along Mountains ran
Covering and smothering
The gathering of brethren

Dusk grows ore’ corn husk
Shadows creep the sleep
It is time to eat
And Find some peace

Axe Sharp Shine
Black powder smolder
Eagle Eye
Sending arrow
Over sparrow
Into marrow

A proud one is fallen
Sending beast meat to my feet
The prize is one
The ritual of the horn has begun

Fire spires the mire
The camp is fortress
Covering his hovering
Flames force darkness darker
And the moon mares the night

I awake – unto sleep
Where dreamland
Runs rivers deep
And visions wind wild
Like a toy with child

I awake – unto day
Sun rises like God
Dew drenched grass – glistens green
And Ancient fields – breath out steam

Whether by day or by night
Waking or dream
This is life to me…

Early to Bed

“Early to bed and early to rise makes and man healthy, wealthy and wise.”

-Benjamin Franklin

The foundation to any profitable life.