according the chambered eggs
feathered hearts of dinosaurs
the laying descendants at our feet
eating the crumbs we so magnanimously share
waiting for a future past
editors note: Comfort in compost; everyone's future past. - mh clay
above the mainly positive is known
so let there be discussions and the Name
proponents of the member language shown
before the circle turns around again
consensus joins to vet the written word
the advocates speak in a language plain
but opposition makes it seem absurd
and still Vienna begs to be explained
the doctrine of the standard proposit:
to add it up you must include your toes
it’s rational as long as it has Wit-
tggenstein assume an a priori pose
epistemology is well and good
but what is what if you’re misunderstood?
editors note: Yes, precisely… What? (Read another of satnrose's mad rants on his page; fear, assuaged in beer. - check it out.) - mh clay
and of all the others you becoming the best even when and to transfer
the enemy and the bystander under the narrow place where everyone
goes going to the Hell where the stairway is dropped with us although
you see concerning those who were really the friends of the monkeys
I am the friend or if need be other things seeing that when those who
are more distant and shivering as they go and pushing their own fool
method down the road dividing directly from your craving those who
can do that one thing with the demons you are at worst then you look
at a certain evil little twin who continues to look at you and makes the
insult which finds the fact that the thing desired is done in any case so
therefore if with your interest to be strong is death the largest domain
and presents you with a cold beer and as you drink it you realize that
all your fears had been braved before the first word was ever printed
editors note: In that day, when we're all awake, we'll wonder... - mh clay
at this point where I am walking
towards you savoring the moment
for something which I now know
you knew so you spoke and then
suddenly I did not have you
you did not have to permit me and as for
that which I then did not fully
understand and still don’t I had not a
clue but because I inflicted the fine
you were just disappointed in me
and I frankly admit I must have been
amazed but the feeling that was
attached to that was most of the rea-
son that perhaps it happened the
way it did and as for me who des-
ired happiness I still had to pass into
another life as if I were reincarnated
as someone else and so as if my
monopolized lines excluded me
from the typhoon of your emotions
and then if that which cannot be
thrown high enough to take a chance
is where I could not now how far I
would have to go to possess your
love and so now I think I have achieved
safety and blame myself no
longer I do not have you any
more but that’s okay and here we are
editors note: Another case of "You are Here!." Origin to destination with story in between. - mh clay
I don’t know where you’re going
only that you’ve been there.
How do I know?
Let me be that secret.
I knew you when you were just an eye,
just another starry, starry night.
Perhaps you were just another lie,
or maybe something special.
I like a mirror just as much as the next man,
but you can not be that for me.
There’s too much memory,
and now we see as through a glass darkly.
Too many times I’ve put off.
Too many tomorrows I’ve lost.
You, you are only a kid.
And I, I am only a spark.
editors note: Riddle resplendent in eye night spark kid, life alive and awake. I'm watching... - mh
There are knocks in life so hard… what the hell do I know!
knocks of God hate, as if driving
the riptide of suffering
were to dam the soul… what the hell.
Though few… they carve lines
in the fiercest face and the toughest back
Maybe they’re Attila’s horses
or the black harbingers sent by Death
They are the abysses of the Christ in soul
of some utter faith blasphemed by Destiny
the blood hits in the crackling bread
that burns us at the oven’s door
And poor poor man, he turns his eyes
as if slapped on the shoulder
turns his crazy eyes, and everything lived
is dammed, a little lake of guilt, in his sight
There are hard knocks… what the hell do I know!
editors note: What the hell, indeed! - mh
if lust was simply but a child of state
then and now to be a bastard of the fate
that all destinies are met not good or bad
but in the joke so practically had
time for heart or merely time for hate
the common weeds are gathered with the sate
and by an accident were only meant
to be just a moment of discontent
in every single hour life is short
in every raining shower faith abort
and all alone each forced to perform the trick
that makes profession of faith a heretic
witness the fools of time who died confessing lives of crime
in the belief they are made clean to enter into love supreme
editors note: Arrest evil outcome with this article of faith (or magic spell) boosted from the Bard in three quatrains and a couplet. - mh