Strange music
from the wayside shrine,
the wind.

The wind at prayer,
'tis in the mind,
creative brain;
mankind. 

Belief in devils, gods
and kings, 
all kinds of things;
mankind.

Dare devil deeds
and sudden wars
misunderstandings;
mankind.

Polluted forests,
human waste
fills all the waterways,
rots vegetation, blind;
mankind.

Dreamed Utopias,
when our earth is one,
soon to be gone;
mankind. 

Canto Ten ~ In a citadel of unparalleled antiquity a new player is introduced.
It hides within an immaculate cloak, nature unrevealed. Not necessarily human, he is man like in appearance and darkly mysterious.
Inside the immense and unblemished room, he searches in an ancient Seer for information of his coming Lord. Within the oddly flowing orb upon the ground we watch the events at the beginning of our tale from a different perspective.

folded desire
font rich
pelted in rains
skin touched
sky blessed

glitter in the walk
freed from the symetry of the box
the velvet wander
the delicate
ponder

chrome chain duress
the soft nadir of her neck
curved and supplicant
pure and waiting

As I paddle my feet through these sea of heads
Pushing through these ocean of human current
One thought comes to mind
What makes the human race thick?
What bind us together?
Is it race or religion?
Tongue or allegiance?
Here I am,
Sorrounded by sun burnt melanin skins
Each pushing for its own survival
Why the hell do I have to black?
"I must have whispered to myself
Maybe I did something terrible in a former life
Cos,this place is a parody for hell"

As I paddle my feet through these sea of heads
Pushing through these ocean of human current
One thought comes to mind
What makes the human race thick?
What bind us together?
Is it race or religion?
Tongue or allegiance?
Here I am,
Sorrounded by sun burnt melanin skins
Each pushing for its own survival
Why the hell do I have to black?
"I must have whispered to myself
Maybe I did something terrible in a former life
Cos,this place is a parody for hell"

I don’t understand decoration

When I ride a wave I ride for the tube,
Not three sixties

When I ski, I ski fast,
Through powder, bumps, trees or avalanche

If I designed a building it would be a cube,
Or hexagonal for maximum density

Is there a paradox here?
Not to me.

fabrique

a colour lays low
an hour swift

runs of desire
escalate

I am Pre-Raphaelite
I am enigma
I am hair aflame
I am alabaster of skin
I am mistress
I am muse
I am Bohemian
I am personification of lust
I am sexually released
I am unforgetable
I AM ARTIST

my sojourn of life is unique
you know I help many
along with me in tow
so many here have given me
love you know

so that's why I continue to go
from here to there
in the way I want to

life's sojourn

all follow me
some don't too
then for them I have only a word to say
let's on behalf of your souls pray
that you see some light some day

smooth silk the glitter balm
the flat mirror vision
smooth sticky gloss
svelte walk
plumped talk