Satan needs new advocates

Apple taken for good is a concept of humanity
Sky under sword form darkless consumers cooperation
Screams harpies trees and angers bees

Honey stung, blood become ties
Crowns sorted into cards in a deck full of clubs
Harts don’t get played till last

Hope you ate your dogfish with
Wale bone spoon
Because the devil needs new advocates


Tree, a life of

Ground swallow me whole. Become my comfort.

Spirals form and twist me inside out. The wind comes and gently touches my form.

Ice falls and inside the moon.

My eye opens and three gardens of life form.

Clouds of stars above, striking the sky above as a blessed drum.
Punctured beats singing abound my head and captured for a moment by my senses.

In the morning my three gardens full with joy, open and sleep again each evening.

Breath takes my flesh like fire as a new garden forms. Again and again. Bare the old dead garden falls. It has had a good place on my form, I will grow others.

Drink the cold rain.

Endure the freezing ice.

Celebrate the new spring as I seek a new way. Send a message.

Send a new path.

The flowers grow, like my gardens but less whole, less lived. They last but a few settings of the life giving light.
But they are replaced by this feeling.
A new path is forming.
Not just one.
Many millions.
It blossoms. It rages. It aches me to our all the spring and some summer into these… Things. My body compels.

They are gone. One sunrise. I again store all the gardens joy inside. Wait for the cold.

Year and year.

Day and day.

Until I feel a prickle. A itch.

Then I am on the ground. It swallows me whole. And the former self reborn, I find myself starting back.

Flight and keel

Insidious remark of hatred

Leaving a mark

Newspapers fluttering in the wind

Not lean to kin

Herald to taste the smoky winter rains

Acid washed feeling sunshine

Popped pit of olive lime

Destroyed tower of sanity

Tripe of lies given a truth collection

Snide pimple on the face of humanity

Revelation present dime

Flowers in Hell

That place of fright that fear is a might. We live in the blight of all our own maze. Blaze our minds and raise our hills.

Glass and steel given out hatred mills to a place given all still.

Lights flicker and dance to our endless trance.

It’s a glance from a uncommon fellow to sell all out bellows.

Flowers in hell. Bloom just as well.

I see that they are actually a thing that we do sing. In the mind there are horrors of fright and such a sights. Internal demons just as big as external demands.

When will we realize that nature doesn’t care?

Flowers in hell, bloom just as well.