city mystic is unsettled
the metropolis citizens grow weary
of the stones they carry for the Barons
Burgeoning fear digested
for the lord does naught for their peace

children in the alleyways with
rucksacks full of idols
The past illusion of a Bygone temperament



Darkness suffocates the pompous court
of mortified emperor, in her crown of dust
Her false kingdom destroyed by love and devotion,
to the one behind her eyes alone



the Harvest spread, bounty of the year
paid in full by calloused hands
The feast is our reward as
the frost of winter bewitches wind

glad Mother toils at the hearth
her rolling pin the scepter at her side
Crystals melt on pane of glass as
we await the warmer equinox

Mother is dead ,
her pale heart turns to gold ,
rotting mother dripping with the blood of ages
to the land which cries for its return,
Mother is born



death and silence
the stench that sleeps in The Valley ,
the peace of the land sits in a tempers edge
each marble grave toppled over
and swallowed by mycelium
Gaia builds her palace in bone



The forward love of a scared doe ,
beckoning out a whale of despair
longing to be held by the huntress.
a rush of blood weeps from
the Never ending pit in her side

in snow destoryed by spilled wine ,
the empty vase of the creature lay dormant
in Eternal peace once more



Torn sails carry wary men to new shore ,
as war-washed men hang upon the mast
tossed about en route to Northumbria
with their wits long gone by the wayside



The flesh of life eats the weary king ,
who has, since Antebellum and thereafter,
Adorned his court in ponson velvet
and bathed only in finest beetlemilk

his attendants bear the Oriental tapestry,
the king’s prize of plunder in siberia;
troubled soldiers tarry in halls of Alabaster
awaiting the orders of starving sovereign



Eaten flesh rots away from fallen knight ,
Pierced by spears of bronze and gold
lifeless Mercenary armored in
the iron Christening gown

running through barriers his mind created ,
the horse chirps In tired hunger .
a warrior’s death is no matter to a stallion



Battle of the brain once again
he comes to feast
again ,
the knight of sleep come to take me

To dream of better fields again;
of glory and love
again ,
hoping to write the wrongs of years



The broken hearse ,
scuttering through the street ,
disconsolate faces of grieving followers
clubbing their eyes with salt



The elf of the Forrest ventures deep ,
hoping to discover the fabled berries
which grow her ears !

deep in the wood there is,
according to the Beech trees,
a thicket full of blossoms
the petals of which float atop sea green pond
hiding briny fruit in the branches

Toad bows to the the lake faerie ,
at the cloven arch where divine twins dwell;
these, the Guardians of ambrosia,
stand at the gate to Wisdom
singing the Aevitas Sofia



flamboyant Lady of the wood
stomps where the knomes did lay ,
beneath silken nest in the Canopy
which yearns for the embrace of a songbird

sweet Lady singing as she struts
each breath as vital as the wind,
For the air of love she billows out
calls all the warblers In



at the Picnic under the arch of gods ,
spritely rabbits look on to ponder
the Creation of spells which last for ever !

the astrologer in his Cathedral
of twigs and dirt, Lord of his garden,
drinks the sweat of the ages
entranced by light from Long ago



Crown of thorns
she rises above the city of the bleek and sad ,
she brings only love ;
yet the people do not see her

Daughter of delirium
she lies in the field where Fenrir seeks to slay her ,
she brings Calamity
to the house of those who betray her



The squirrel only knows his home ,
set on the side of a mossy grove ;
his abode a wollen tree
drained of moisture

at the peak of that goodly oak mountain ,
the summit of his Dominion ,
he chants with the crows
who board with him

in the bough he awaits his fate ,
til the acorn of love which tempts him
falls across the way

crows scatter at the sight !
screaming as it drops
into the arms of the joyful squirrel



The scream of the rooster sets above the farm ,
where at the end of variegated garden
is the solemn scarecrow, watching the Wheat
to whom he is in eternal servitude ,
float away in the breath of the wind



The eaten mess upon tower plates,
the day of love and hope is at its end ;
now the world rests in gifts of splender
and children joy in their gifts of fun

Evergreen branches ornamented
in crystals of cadmium light
reveal a hundred socks
once filled with chocolate



Pileerent valkak faller naturligel ved siden av veien
den ellbrynel brisen ødelegger hjemmet til tusen foglahaln
de ropal om hjelp, men engerleb er der


the willow tree naturally falls
by the side of the road

the welcoming breeze
destroys the home of a thousand birds
they call for help, but no one is there


Folk magic is the natural work of women :
to dance in the path as the world collapses
and is reborn a thousand times


Athenaeum lights above us ,
what can save us from blindness ?
only burning and death is our will,
to see the end of these
False masters



The gentle of the heart ,
once destroyed by the fearsome and the hunter ,
comes to love the blessed opposite
in which is forbidden ,
the village will reject



Queen of the way
crowned with the head of jolly bear ,
dances to frighten the farmers

what is her goal
For she does as the devil permits !
as her mother shrieks in laughter



grand King of the Robins
on the high perch of the golden Hall
barking peaceably in his diadem

the Hall builded up with hickory laurels
by manic hillfolk ministers; a Cathedral !
for the jovial King’s beloved creatures

juniper Owl, observing reverent Lady
building her sanctuary with soil and stick ;
he wishes to join the
homely Lord of the Cathedral

Fawn leads a chorus up to the altar ,
talking and chirping through the Forrest
towards the Great cathedral , rejoice !

frolicking birds line the meridian ,
goblins and faires watch in glee
as their home is complete !

stones sing of the highest ones
in the Dance of the cathedral ,
all of them skipping circles
round the daisies forever



the merry band approaches
carrying festival of joy !
they sing of the endless delight,
in a fleeting moment’s jubilee
as the harmony of lunar Orchestra
spills out from timpani cloud
on the tawny mourning
of the King’s return

mountain Lady prepares the feast
her eyes full of stars from nights reflected ;
she awaits the king on his funeral pyre
ablaze above all the world



dancing Jester ,
she is the happy joke of the village
spinning in the ampitheatre
with the Farmer in his lovely hat ,
and pitchfork

humble Farmer
waiting in the vale for his crop ,
can not resist her fancy frock
the lonely jester enraptured in lace
yet he remains !

what will this achieve ?
only the sadness of years



his harp aches
the sound of his pain in the cave
which only he knows well
dying, crying through the cords ,
the love of which he wishes impossible ;

by his nature, it is only the harp
that can please his wanting extremes

water spirit on the sepulchre
sacrificed in his strings



Trumpeting sky please save us ,
thunderous Voice, cry out for us !
the chosen build the Kingdom,
as the many defend wickedness



Scale and blood on the Black Sea dock,
sarasine salt afire, cooking away ,
amidst eminent Beast stalking in the sea
poor Traveler will never see the coast !



current of blood upon feather sock
Albatross sleeping peacefully
lo, now awaketh she in Shock !

yet, a stained face is preferred ;
nosebleed river tis a fright to all
but delight to the impish bird



king Crow with Heart of iron ,
doth eat the rats who approach his keep
whilst in his splendrous reign of grey
the nobles who enrich him weep

his song is heard in all the land
his sway marks the way of coming war
his adversaries, yea the seers know :
watchful Crow sees more



moth Priest fluttering
betwixt the maple feathers of the sap tree
old friar Moth, searching for his sanctuary ;
he drinks the nectarine Eucharist
in the gleam of heavenly night

holy Carnival dream ,
a Communion in the sweet eve of signs !
plays and music and the dance of life
all to the joy of saintly Jester
running with her kite



brazen maiden in the Crown of oak
adorned in new-formed wings of white,
extravagant Jester spinning out
with the aves takes she Flight

Golden bird in the sky : shining, dawning !
so bright fair Jester falls to feathers



in the infant empire of discontent :
souls are consumed by plastic Aristocrat
as selective imps ride the backs of the innocent
and do eat the brain soup of a stillborn generation

Mother waits at the broken altar ;
trapped in a seen, her children weep
for in the cradle they are castrated
at the hands of their protectors



Soaked wormwood nectar ,
cleansing the fuzzy mind of jolly Jester ;
sedated brains dance in joy

After-image fills the foreground
following always the pilgrim Prophetess ;
sober hearts learn to dream



Eaten face of the debased god ,
dead in the lake floating ,
a carved stone broken in the current

jolly party near the lakeside
all reveling in the death of the idols,
their warring hearts, slain by Love



humble Farmer at the gate
he directs the clouds of creature
to the land where they will die

faithful subjects to the Farmer
uniform in love , following their King
even to the slaughter
but this day
he will set them free



Soaked wormwood drinks
a mouthful of glory seeds
the Queens’ ritual



Grass of green , blue of sky ,
merry Sheep skipping down the cliff
simple of need , simple of thought

Jester swimming in the valley stream
Fleeting warmth wants the ends of toes ,
now submerged in river mud

clothed in cumulonimbus
ecstatic Jester floating in Liberty
ever sinking into soil

Care she does not !
she soaks in the screech of the lute ,
and sings forever in the waters




the Jester in Promised Land

Journey from the old world, looking for new
prospect, following paths old as my
ancestors
Smell of happiness in the air, belonging to
bed draped in one's home glory, wary of
outsiders
The promise land creeps into the mind, of
the hopeful lady looking for the loving
embrace of the home, once where the first of
the land once settled . once more a traveller
comes to settle , home of Ohio for 100's of
years,
The smell of air the temperature of gods
perfecting the mind of the nervous, the
baptism of cold seeping her skin in the
stream of the gods,

Wary setters, the girl fear in the new lands
once suggested, she dreams of the land that
she fell in love, heary growing more than
she's, inviting new settlers, new ideas of
hope
Feast of hope above us , ultimate excitement
bound, drum of the heart marching towards
the site of her home, mushrooms of trees joy
of adventure, distant hope of the future rings though the air into the love of the girl



the Soldier’s Pilgrimage

vigilant Pilgrim gazing west
to the little King throned on the zenith
his feet rest upon the serpent seed
slain and hidden in the mount

Pilgrim capped in the shepherd's sheath
the Keeper's eye, a crowning gem on her chaplet
on either side fortified with beasts, and charioteers
each bringing gifts to the throne room

the King's sickle reaps the fruit of nations
for his roaring voice directs the trees :
each bends along the hidden axis
drawing in the sprawling gardens

the Pilgrim drifts beyond the pyramids,
she is a leaf shaken from the branch ,
carried on the line to Promised Land
turning as she follows the pike

past the tall trees of the highest trail
she climbs to the land that can never be lost
gathering jewels for her Beloved ones
as the tares around her crumble

pilgrim Soldier, anointing the aspens
flanked with wheat in the land of inheritance
Ursa stands in the bed of a stream
frozen and bordered with leichen

wildest rock trembles beneath her
as frankincense flows from her fingertips
dousing the meadows of milk and honey ,
these her offerings at the apex altar

turned to knight by the shining Lamb
who tarries in the field beyond the Heart tree ,
she departs from the camps proclaiming Liberty
armed with a double portion of light

the One with the Sacred staff

the One with all power,

Surely will bash the head of the wicked

who do good in daylight

One delivers rightful punishment

for the blasphemy of many

Lashes of ache , lines of pain ,

on the back of she who does not dwell ;

a constant bleeding reminder

punishment for the soul’s former sins ,

the One sets all things in balance

Silver face painted with blue ;

defiant Outlanders dance in the bog ,

safe in the rage

of a thousand horsemen

hiding slayers of the imps

split at the heart

pocked with the prongs of the devil ,

Roma victus est !

Death to the demon saints

the meek inherit the earth

Sun of hour pasture ;

Return !!

Hast thou betrayed mine trust

Hiding the gaze of thy heat

behind a tall mountain

Blackened sky of white ;

Tremble !!

frost is all that remains

preserving Bountiful ground

in gelid crystals

Bleeding eyes of the Living

who in desperation , and honor

sing the canticles of the Dead

to dress their nights of toil

an’ many of the loved ones

now passed to the sky

sing the song of Life

Godly beauty in the Forrest ,

concealed as actors in a crowd !

breath of heaven, buried in dust

she plants a vineyard in the wood ,

the Jester does as she comes and goes ;

and there she dandles and there she dwells

Ever chanting to the secret things

which wait under veil of brambles

faithful is she to the coming genesis ,

and contented to rest in dry magick

at Peace in the waiting days

the Outpouring

The skeleton of a giant beast ,

such is the tree petrified

caustic wings carve the cloven sky

horned Creature, great in stillness

souls eyre to garden mellow,

a movement of weight , shifting ;

pilgrims Quake in the valley

beneath the final bellow of the beast

rooted in the centre of histories

friends of the Garden splender of sound !

triumphant in the breaking of a bough

which held in the highest Heavens

Ceremony of horn and dance !

the clash of the drums is what keeps us fed

Our song is the crash of a spring's abandon

it is water poured between vessels

mired and tossed are we, slaves to good ,

and given as oil to the watershed furnace

yea the converts have our Sacrament ;

we burn upon the altars of the Fathers

a bushel filled of hidden light

from whence cometh this harsh flame ?

it falls in the nimble weight of night

and forrest Consort is reduced to ashes

tempest Wind come to carry dust off

its song is life yet the great sphere shatters

though a thousand stars destroy us

yet shall we tremble for eternity

welcome the prancing Eye

the Watchman in mine luminaries

herein lies the ethereal book !

ancestors gawk at the fable

in mantle of the proud celestial ,

fit for a princess, or for a king :

the Cardinals skip roundly the daisies

this their ritual to the one true gods

Begging delight of the birds singing

violet chickory needles in thread

Morning fox come to steal the Berries

all this which keeps us jolly ,

garden Spirit reminds

Golden spires upon the grass ,

fulfilling to the creatures delight ,

a prize for the happy; joy to the garden !

gathered we Are in the burial mound

let us rebuild the mountain

Death in the church of stars

dove of peace far gone between ;

fragrant pollen of searching meadows

brought upon the wings of a stork

a mistral collision in flight

Brilliant elk of blue emergent

as the Garden's clear mind approach

for the dew, and the grass devour each step

and cleanse the trodding of the path

gone to Temple of the dark and distant

where whimpering winds in flicketing flame

baptize the condemned ; yet call them Free !

and forever there own peace

fair prince awaits in forest black

whilst Banging drums choke the moors ,

all to celebrate the birth of another Sinner !

soon to blaze in the singing pit