Oh, So Many Thoughts

fluidity forms straight
if that
were to make any sense.

pretty pretty timpani
doom doom doom
heartbeats and a snare

ebongation
the act of
becoming bonged

The Music
is not real but would
anyone else like to hear it?

The Walls can open up
and swallow
to a downward fall.

The Music Kills me!
Twang of strange
horrible alien cities

The Measurements
are taken in the river
for us to swim in

Screens and windows
fingers moving so sprightly
daintily around

Circus tunes
and a calliope
but rest is wished not joy.

The neck hurts but
it feels no pain
until the weather turns warm

It's just chunks
of Melting Color
and a soft flourescence\

And is the backslash even
there? where are
all these things meaning things...

green though
this flourescence
is natural

green is our
mother color,
and home color

if green were to
be the mother
pink is the father, then

THE WHITE
IS TO THE
RED RED ROSE

but lines are just
lines, and nothing
more, divide not

smokey milky
shadows lurking
among strings of mandolin

this song stirs
sweet in the memory
of chilhood woods

just chants
and songs and
incantations!

Flung to heavens in
fits of rapture and
exctasy!

These wonderful tongues
that speak us
truth and vision

these that see me as
a shining light
in the dark!

Sing those songs! fill
the skies with words
of salvation.

And only see the visons
as they arise

and only seek,
what is searched for
when you are searching.

these so many
many words
by way of man.

flight
means wings
and a means of escape