Scarf on the mention to the choking reminders of the flats on the slab,
that cold in the shiver is the past of been but was,
in that it will always be,
for that is the instant of the Mind in the frame of memory,
shooting the Tunnels of my Sound I scream in Silent,
for the real had feet.
The trampling of my self in the taste of the outer doorways to score,
oh for the narrows of the change to the journals of the traveling Trip,
the designation of the measure of the truth men in short,
there height matched mine,
there I sat in the stare at the hardest workers I had ever seen,
not midgets just small at frame,
my age at the time of demise was Three.
The patience gave me sigh through the furrow of the ditch that I had just died,
on the scope of the pant the skate to the land of strength,
to bad for Human failure with No Belief in the separation of this state,
for the value was the worth of Life in the measurement of yours,
in that tack of Tell the scale was of Counted that knowing that death is just a murk,
the founder of the frailty of this body breaking down the oxygen to finals of suffocating the store.
Know of the Change afoot not a what if, not a how to, not a shirt stipulations cloaked, just you and go,
the born to the shores of the standards that waste is found and the life is death weights to feather this talk to the Idiots here on this earth,
for that is real pleasure with shaking stimulation to lust your ear of creeping the listens,
do me a Favor "TASTE MY DIRT" and Swallow your Pride for you are only Mortals on skirt.
From James Blunt to each dread of the shallows of Mankind and it's doubters,
Creation bombed this Planet with Volcanic Voice and the Vocal piece is ME,
so shove this Verse up to the Sun and KNOW it shines The Crow to the burning Reads,
varied in the Various punch but the Drink is Fit like the dove that Robbed the stone,
bleed to the vein of Edens' suicide and Rope this sing with the Candor of the Hanging,
in that break Neck Snap verb my Word to bring the Silt to the table of Plenty,
on the full born Christmas Mess wrap your package and Merry the EST State to Shaved,
that clean face to speak straight with eyes so blue there Cobalt through,
not a burro Ass but the Stoics Classic of a Gnostic Gree.
Tumble your boring lives to the Wonder of Magic those little Men in my traveled Meet,
contracted to build Weapons for the Identification of ALL MANKIND'S LIES in simplicity,
as the time set to clock those little Men engaged me to the Project in the land of this guise,
with input to turmoil on this godforsaken Earth I roared about the lies running a Mind Mouths line,
that the problem was not that People didn't know it was that they Did and the connection was Consciously broken at the lip.
With the Great Piece Workers we pulled Copper to the method of the Process to capture the Thought,
not to forget the Tongue I spoke of the measures that The Step pounded my life with,
in that expression those Little Men and I worked a Tenure part to Completions,
the bounce to this tactile land was nothing more than the reality that Intermissions walk and talk,
and as We breathe this textured environment we die as we Lot the scars,
for on the exit to the Entry to the known Humanity locked principles up with the Cart.
Card this note to the Post of the Mark that is scored on the Fourth Head of squat,
for on the plan to deeply cut that number is as thoughtful as the Day of The Dead at the hour of caught,
as your limbs rot from the destination of connect grab that cell phone and dial the song,
mic. it Up to the Top of the cherry that popped on that Basement shack,
in the Cellar of Think I busted at splat,
on that treble Cleft of sing along than know that James Blunt was the Knight I dreamed in light,
for I was born Full Bore and Ready to War with Any divide that gifted Chore.
Raise this Vocation To Engagement of The Horse in Life in Death in Infinity I ride The Mountain,
I say that the Breeze is my Arms in the slicing hail that sharps to the sleet of slights,
as it scratches your skin to the dry parchment that People are I will be the Heat on the slap,
in that scathing celebration the Fire will Breathe for I am of the most Ancient of Life,
I am born of The Dragon and I have flown to No Avail for Humanity has lost Morality for stone,
witness this tongue of nothing split to divide the Snake from the ride as a Taurus I show The Bull,
with the Eye of Odin through the Sun streaming Ra to the foundation of Every Fucking God that ever Reigned,
I hail their existence For the Truth is of the Greatest Start,
Creation forged this Method to Speak at The Rite to Being a Calendar Clark,
clocking with your temples of Doom I RECORD this World as born of Fools!!
That is the Breath of Life Itself shedding this Mortal talent as only a Mirror gift of Reflection,
I look at the worth of what is said to have presence and all I can see is the Brightest Star,
the Shining in the Oddest rather of Calculation of lark that brings the ladder to the Tower before it's dark.