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  • Seeds of Holy Things
    #1
    Stars do not destroy themselves
    in one burst of fiery gold flame,
    twinkling
    to be buried in the hands of God.

    Instead
    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,

    majik

    and the tribe
    of silver meadows of the moon.
    Reply
    #2
    I'm star struck

    consistency is the hobdob
    of small minds[
    Reply
    #3
    Thanks, SJ Smile
    Reply
    #4
    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.
    Reply
    #5
    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
    Reply
    #6
    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.
    Reply
    #7
    I have one about pot, titled "Kush". Will see if I can dig it up...
    Reply





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