This message has been brought to you by the orange and blue star network
Be a thousand
Inner outer shell
Parabolic rotating selves.
A million kaleidoscopes
Making dragons
Into lotus crowns
On beings
With I’s that need no dots
And angels that need no halos
He’s directionally vulgar
In the 1.1key of a flat skyscraper,
They talk in 2-D fractions
Moon chords are strung in the harmony of their breath.
From the abandoned churches that collapse under the weight of
Their nails of infinitely dense greed,
We shall make schools of perfection and beauty dedicated to the musical wisdom
That divines our place among the stars and the geometry balancing out the sides
They take around the science of life.
No more death cult pandering that makes us so ashamed we lock the doors of our hearts at night.
7-19-09
A Midwestern Atlas made of paystubs and clock out slips,
He holds up the heavens for every Aphrodite or Artemis that shares his appreciation for the sky.
But, when crippling venom is spit on his bamboo heart,
He lays the heavens down in anger.
Each spirit who bears this burden they are hurt by all the falling constellations
One could play a good game of blame all day until engulfed in flame,
But such time cannot be wasted. The stars they cannot wait.
Worry not you ancestral spheres, who turn to the ageless tunes,
He will hold you again after healing have long since begun.
Reality is only a cold drink, a hot fuck, and a car that won’t start away.