Lacertae 

Ducks. Snow. Tamed memories.

Little things I remember. 

Your presence. Essence. The place in the world your had. 

Eclipse. Moonshine. 

Pentagram, in a logical place.

Never, ever, even being. 

Your words that saved me. And these little things I do. 

Pain gone. That’s a comfort.

I’m trying. Trying to be worthwhile. 

Desolation the empty. Insidious clouds empty snow. But they are fleeting. 

Worthwhile? What is that to a tiny snowflake? To a duck on the lake waiting out the rain? 

The world, the essence of it, comes from our little bits of time. 

Yours, to breif. 

Murcury is not dead 

Kill the message.

Kill the messenger. 

Murcury is not death, though

His is as deceiving as any one can tell

A theith and a lair, Larunda will not tell though

For cutthroat Jupiter hastily cut out her tounge 

You may think, that Murder has beseeched the messenger of the gods

You forgot they are just as tricksy as us if not more

But what else is a god, but the very hardened psychosis of us poorly mortals 

Rick and brother 

1. I’m just as bad as all of the rest

Telling the truth today 

It’s just a featherweight fighting for rate

Getting the bell because it’s used

Stony sand and a beer in a half pint 

Singing with motorcycles blooms 
Chorus:

But I don’t see how

Rick and his brother still love 

It’s all 9 hells and a few more to quell

Just down and down and down and down


2. I’m just as hurt as the man in the pond

Shooting up black opium

Hark the herald devils singing you home

Warehouse spaces left empty

Homeless emotions see the memory

Murder distance from trendil energies 

Arrowheads, falling asleep 

Black wheatgrass is the dark blue storm

Sleeping arrowheads longing to morn

Juice of the corpses 

mortuary sorted 

Standing at the camp

Humors, bile and can’t 

It’s hard to see the souls of dead

Trying and waiting bled

Juice of the corpses 

loose faithful mortals 

Black wheatgrass wearing the hailstorm 

A dress from a maelstrom 

A wasted crop for all

Requiem for a restaurant 

piles of grey half washed pots and pans

concrete walls and sterile tile floors
Little blue things in a shelf

Shel of the former place
You would sit on the coner table

Order the usual and sit in comfy conformity 
It’s your usual time 

Your usual place and age
They walk past as your drink arrives 

And stares into see you 
Smiles, hugs, kisses? Not today.

Hide that disappointment 

Earnings are new, red pinpoints
Always orders something they have to tried yet

You know that’s how it always went
More smiles, laughter and food

Smells so great

Order wines to match the drapes?
Your have not always been sad

Empty as you are now 
This place was like a home

A member of the family and it said things so quietly
You only just noticed when they put up the prices

It didn’t seem so full of or on the go
You came anyway to meet your bo

Smiles always now, kisses you adore 
Until today’s grimy discovery 

Piles of half washed pots and pans 
Your handprint leaves a mark on the window

You message a new place to linger 
Little things that you remember is all that’s left

Until that day you forget

Ghost Buildings

Lights from faded

Grass grows

Little ants crawl 

Leaves flowing into my body 

I’m a pretty little thing, even in death

Rotting at my full body 

A little more time 

Their is a fox that loves to forage in my foyers 

Birds in my eves nesting 

Wasps are taking the little insects out fighting a endless tiny war against the spiders

With wight a wings a seed pod falls from a kurrajong 

My foyer becomes its home and soon I watch it grow

Down the roots fall and dig 

My basement has a little more Earth in it now

Then I feel like I will be gone soon

My floors start to crumble 

Wisp yonder light

Hairs on my neck

Blown down 

Reached from soils

Orange juice on the rooftop 

Green muscles and yams 

Fussing drawing dirt

Floating around spinal column 

Spare a speck 

Messanger found

Touch by ghost oil

Sound the bells pop

I didn’t ask about the clams

Minds flinging bezerk 

Bea searching polin 

Please light the dark, then dark the light

Angry dark, I have talked to it. Like in the old days. Where their any old days? It’s hard to tell if you travel.

Anger out of light, I have mortified on them. Like the crew stepped out to the craywolf lair. Their claws, teeth and tails.

My crew, my friends. I’m shaking at the thought. The darkest moments of my life, flights of arrows. The fighter planting the  shadows. The girl I love, turning her body into the shape of a dire wolf. My oldest friend casting a lightning bolt into the fray.

Their dead, all the same. Clacking in the court. The light of the room of people in suits, standing me over a barrel. The prosecutor gaining the jury’s bellows. The man I hate, turning my words into the shape of a demon in the sky.

Craywolf, skitter out of their nest. Hard shelled clawed beasts ten foot tall, six foot wide. Come at us in numbers higher than the sky. Overrun the shadow fighter, their claws blight him until he dies.

Dire, dire, wolf, the girl I love takes bites of Craywolf flesh, her teeth munching through their carapace like soft tissues, manacles too many though, and blood and fur run. I watch helplessly as my spells have bare minimum effect.

My old friend and I try to reach her before the end, he’s throwing lighting like the Tempest of Ger’tend. I try my different spells, the ones from my oldest toam. The first I cast turns their flesh into mush and tears most limb and bone. 

I grab. I twist, I have her in my hands. I turn to the friend, and say that it’s time to light the dark. He say, no but it’s time to dark the light. 

I gasp, I weep at such a hateful betrayer. In a single step, the girl no more than dust. His spells are just as powerful as mine and I have only my speed of thought. To quicken, I cast the one spell I have that will ace him in his step.

Darkness? No, a purpose for this spell is needed more than most. Given all my power it will surely have to work. I speak the words, the little things that are so powerful and with a little quirk. He can cannot assertain what I’m about to say. 

Quod est cogitare et terribilis apon anima tua!

Suddenly the lighting, the flesh, the wind, every spell he has ever cast upon another being is cast upon him. The effect upon him is gruesome, and quick. He is dead long before the spell finishes. I am hopeful that such a thing never happens to me. 

I weep. Their dead all the same. I’m going to be in that room. The room of judgement. Having been such a failure. But I take what I can from this. The dust. 

I forge it, with the little magic I have left and the bold of the craywolf. In one little ring. I hold the remains of my daughter.

 

Cell on a dime

Last meals of dead dog fish

It’s a peculiar dish

Walebone spoon, the atomic clouds loom

Dimes of soil, raining from the sky. 

All those silly little lies, lies, lies.
Capsules of hate, grading the best thoughts

I’m sure you’ve all bought

A ticket, to your own distarster

Don’t blame us, you were the fathers

All those silly little lies, lies, lies
Haven’t heeded the warning warming

Filling up the beach, 

little patter of feet

Worth and toils, to the sound of the meek

All those silly little lies, lies, lies
(Chorus)

Cell on a dime 

One last time 

Will we survive 

This fire filled time

All those silly little lies, lies, lies

  

I seem to never forget the ones who disappear

Awkward bun in my flax hair

sad tears; Tear, tear, tear

I seem to be able to be disjointed

Here, here, here

With so many people mixing in the place it’s hard to imagine your alone

Fear, fear, fear

Look at the cold cloudless blue sky, like your eyes

Tear, tear, tear

I’m away in unanimously imagined land, in the space were you where

here, here, here

Not in this sticky, great, grey place full of still stones and a odd sense of peace and 

Fear, fear, fear

I’m going to sing for you, the company I keep wants a song, I’m doing a dance for you, I’m mourning you

Tear, tear, tear

Be careful, I will follow you one day, I seem to seem to never forget the ones who disappear

Here, here, here.