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Seeds of Holy Things
Stars do not destroy themselves
in one burst of fiery gold flame,
to be buried in the hands of God.

fire fingers creep to the edges like
jars humming with electric karma lottery
for an obsessive compulsive.

The dark face of night is a wild drink
of soft precious amber and ripe rose;
sublime magnetism created the
Temple of the first kiss of love
with secret incandescent dreaming,


and the tribe
of silver meadows of the moon.
I'm star struck
consistency is the hobdob
of small minds[
Thanks, SJ Smile
Have you noticed how the night's sole purpose seems to be stealing fire from the stars? I don't know if the night is frightened of its own dark, or just desperate to show off the patterns it can make with its ill-gotten shadows.

I would love to believe that the stars are winning, small though they are against that smothering blanket.

I was just thinking yesterday about how much I wished you were here, and here you are. Hug
No fucking censorship. Ever.
You have the dense lyricism of Hart Crane and tender melancholia of William Blake. All your work bristles with stunning metaphors which flow like stars shooting through the sky. An exquisite pieceHeart
that was nice... excellent form. although i was expecting the thread to be about pot; it was a pleasant surprise. Big Grin
"Yeah. I understand the mechanics of it, shithead. I just don't understand how this is any less retarded than what I'm suggesting." - Kiley; Housebound.
I have one about pot, titled "Kush". Will see if I can dig it up...

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