Twins

It's well past 11.

Now,
Resistence,

The communication
Is distraction.

Let's let twelve be inherent,
Step up the view.

How I feel fresh,
I feel new,

Nom de plume?

I'm revitilizing
The language,

Just fucking call me new,
What do you do?

____________________


It was like this:
Remembering the memory.

Red leaves are a visage,
My man,

My name:
Resistence.

The communication with spirit,
Then distraction.

Articulate cornucopia of distance,
Mars' malefic panacea of death,

Each year
New threads,

New trends,
Persona of the poster:

I'm a GHOST,
Entropy.

Noetic poetic steeping in apathy,
I always liked everything,

I mean, 
I always lied about everything.

But on a more serious note,
Wanna haruspicate some poetry?

Yo

The value of a tool
Is

What it does,

What does it do?

I'm an Irishman
Too.

What is illusion,
Who are you,

Who am I,
What is life,

Who is Sky,
Why do we dance

In the sun
And

Laugh?

From A Basement on the Hill

At the end of the hall,
In a basement on the hill,

In a house where no one knows,
That's where you'll find me.

At the end of the hall,
In a house where no one's home,

Bloody smiling, blowing smoke rings alone.
Finely free.

Swim with me,
And we'll escape all the troubles of the present age.

Of once and future kings,
The present fisher-daze,

Once,
And once more

In my hand I held many,
Watch them fall,

As Parsifal,
As the Green Man of Spring.

What does it mean, 'I only dream of death?'
Now shelter me in clarity;

A token of God's gratitude
Or contempt.

Living Alone XXYYXX

I forgot I live here,
I forgot.

If I hear
The footsteps of a stranger

I'm bound to disappear.

The Waxen Pith

It's a dangerous game,
Pull strings it hurts.

Noway...

Joust an only way to say
No sé.

The old-man is raining
Fire in my head

Fire in my hand,
The wind at my back,

Day after day,
When does it stop?

When did it ever begin?
The question:

What haven't we seen?
What don't we do?

This is the thing,
Is the world made of plastic,

Cause that's the way it seems.
Endless dreams,

What do you mind?
If you get exactly what you want

When you want it,
EVERY SINGLE TIME.  

By this we have lived,
There could be a record of a truth behind lies,

Some obscure glimpse into future events,
A better vision of the past, I guess,

Something benificent about a spider
He said,

The leaves of my tea
Are untied.

Lone wolf
ebb flow

one mind,
oh know.

Messire Ennui and The Skeletons of Saladin's (His Little Black Puppets who Grin at the Sky)

This is my depression:
Catharsis,

Dialectic
Profound of ethics,

Err, devoid of ethics,
Premature

Departure,
The voice of the sage.

I'm walking the cat
Crestfallen

All the way.
It's fucking obnoxious.

I loathe going out at times,
Too much de rigueur  

Is bad for my lines.