An Empty Catacomb of Prayer #14

A place of worship,
far beyond where the eyes can see,
help me, redeem
and quell my curiosities;
if fact could pull me from
this desolation,

Spear tip;

Pointed as his thorns;
and the devil’s horns.

A cross-
contamination
a drop of sin.

Water so clear and so pure,
no particles of doubt or hate;
only love’s immeasurable.

Like ink,
she bleeds.

//

Grace.
One man’s
journey to the top;

Chinese currency,
spent on faith.

In the mountains,
yew reaches up,
to consolidate a life’s expenditures.

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A place of worship,
far beyond where the eyes can see,
help me, redeem
and quell my curiosities;
if fact could pull me from
this desolation,

Spear tip;

Pointed as his thorns;
and the devil’s horns.

A cross-
contamination
a drop of sin.

Water so clear and so pure,
no particles of doubt or hate;
only love’s immeasurable.

Like ink,
she bleeds.

//

Grace.
One man’s
journey to the top;

Chinese currency,
spent on faith.

In the mountains,
yew reaches up,
to consolidate a life’s expenditures.

An Empty Catacomb of Prayer #13

The calculated inscriptions of an orchid’s
last day’s bloom;

Sentimental necrotic
gaseous form for me
to fill the earthen hold.

And inseparable fears
thanks to
our geo-
centric
locator
disk.

I mind
with my
mind
what becomes
of everything I
ever knew as golden.

A crocodile’s tears
wetting sand & (ampersand)

Solo tribute to the ones we call
each other.

The calculated inscriptions of an orchid’s
last day’s bloom;

Sentimental necrotic
gaseous form for me
to fill the earthen hold.

And inseparable fears
thanks to
our geo-
centric
locator
disk.

I mind
with my
mind
what becomes
of everything I
ever knew as golden.

A crocodile’s tears
wetting sand & (ampersand)

Solo tribute to the ones we call
each other.

An Empty Catacomb of Prayer #12

Efreet aether connection, born
but not baptized; fire and water

Earth and air secrete a mist of cruelty’s revenge.
A bitter plot,
reminiscent of
tadpoles in syrup
trapped in hardened
honey or maple syrup,
drenched the mouth
hardened, cracked and coiled
motion sick-
ness a little
bit of plague.

Out

In the gathering

Storm of dialectic

contraints; plasticized

Horseback sewage

Disposal.

Efreet aether connection, born
but not baptized; fire and water

Earth and air secrete a mist of cruelty’s revenge.
A bitter plot,
reminiscent of
tadpoles in syrup
trapped in hardened
honey or maple syrup,
drenched the mouth
hardened, cracked and coiled
motion sick-
ness a little
bit of plague.

Out

In the gathering

Storm of dialectic

contraints; plasticized

Horseback sewage

Disposal.

An Empty Catacomb of Prayer #11

When the lines broke;
when my water; broke.
And in the siren’s howling sentence
there was peace, for a time.

Not long
after indulgences
became part of
property, another
aspect of the golden sun,

Rhythmic transistor,
copulating with the energies
of transformation & induction.

Resonating.

While the cool, stoic icy blast
of a northern segregation casts
her deep black shadow. Casts her
abysmal flat fucking shadow
down into the well from which
my heart-deceased, ceased to sing.

When the lines broke;
when my water; broke.
And in the siren’s howling sentence
there was peace, for a time.

Not long
after indulgences
became part of
property, another
aspect of the golden sun,

Rhythmic transistor,
copulating with the energies
of transformation & induction.

Resonating.

While the cool, stoic icy blast
of a northern segregation casts
her deep black shadow. Casts her
abysmal flat fucking shadow
down into the well from which
my heart-deceased, ceased to sing.

An Empty Catacomb of Prayer #10

Syrup, little babes; lined up.

Gravy godfather fiendish icing,
and calm cool Tourette’s.
Maybe God acclaimed one little
byway, highway; dawn breaks. God,
I’m
half the size

I was.

Syrup, little babes; lined up.

Gravy godfather fiendish icing,
and calm cool Tourette’s.
Maybe God acclaimed one little
byway, highway; dawn breaks. God,
I’m
half the size

I was.

An Empty Catacomb of Prayer #9

Salty undulations,
pregnant curses,
Sodom’s sister, Jane.

Unbroken host,
held up like the sun rising
in the East.

Parliament proceeds to extract
diabolic needle drops
from unremembered holes
within this categorical facade.

Twice in number,
once in everlasting Hell;
my own module of incineration
spectacle in shimmering iridescence.

I cave,
I caught
onto lower
boundaries,
made;

no sense,
no logical or

syntactic mode
of imperfection
placed idly so idly
against the curtains
of a robber’s knoll.

Salty undulations,
pregnant curses,
Sodom’s sister, Jane.

Unbroken host,
held up like the sun rising
in the East.

Parliament proceeds to extract
diabolic needle drops
from unremembered holes
within this categorical facade.

Twice in number,
once in everlasting Hell;
my own module of incineration
spectacle in shimmering iridescence.

I cave,
I caught
onto lower
boundaries,
made;

no sense,
no logical or

syntactic mode
of imperfection
placed idly so idly
against the curtains
of a robber’s knoll.

An Empty Catacomb of Prayer #8

Alongside your liquid hydrogen eyes;
peeling carpet off the glass,
and uttering the seal of doom.

On lips
too drenched I surmise
with olive oil our lasting
to speak of it. crocodile headdress
hunting pungent dream.

Staccato & fugue;
leyline sublime, seeping in through
translucent shades;

My isolated gaze,
spinning ever slowly skimming
the last droplets of a morning’s dew,
heathen sour dependencies
dutiful dreams,

A shower, alone, in the absence of light.

Formulating,
characterizing the flow
of neurons firing.

An XXXXXXXXXX XXXXX.
Of which we do not speak.

Alongside your liquid hydrogen eyes;
peeling carpet off the glass,
and uttering the seal of doom.

On lips
too drenched I surmise
with olive oil our lasting
to speak of it. crocodile headdress
hunting pungent dream.

Staccato & fugue;
leyline sublime, seeping in through
translucent shades;

My isolated gaze,
spinning ever slowly skimming
the last droplets of a morning’s dew,
heathen sour dependencies
dutiful dreams,

A shower, alone, in the absence of light.

Formulating,
characterizing the flow
of neurons firing.

An XXXXXXXXXX XXXXX.
Of which we do not speak.