Hand towel w/tacks

Telescope

This virtual existence
This carbon copied glut of 1110001100100
Let me touch the future
Let me reach a place that hasn't been made yet
Filled with the children of today
The liars and saints of tomorrow
There will be no ground
Only clouds and noise and information
Let me see where it all ends

My Wishful Purpose

Lying on the couch
Back stretched against supportive rigidity
Half awake and half asleep
Never enough of the latter
Adorn myself with the black of the evening
Walk forlorn and distracted
My thoughts of one thing and one thing only
Is that goal achievable?
Anything earned, be it object or circumstance
Is attained through devotion
Devotion
Devotion
Devotion
My mantra, my desire, my wishful purpose
Embrace the sweeping harmony and
Turn the page from within

The Pillar

It was a pillar of crimson
Bound by invisible restraints
Until silver shears brought separation
The pillar then unfolded and bled
Downward and outward
Washing everything in red
It lapped and tumbled like a churning sea
Burning...

Desert

There's a clenching of the throat muscles
A dryness
An itchy agitation
My voice becomes harsh and coarse
Straining to find acute listeners
The soreness is coming
I reach for cool water and drink
Here's hoping Mother Nature can soothe me

I want to live,
I want to give
I've been a miner
for a heart of gold.
It's these expressions
I never give
That keep me searching
for a heart of gold
And I'm getting old.
Keeps me searching
for a heart of gold
And I'm getting old.

I've been to Hollywood
I've been to Redwood
I crossed the ocean
for a heart of gold
I've been in my mind,
it's such a fine line
That keeps me searching
for a heart of gold
And I'm getting old.
Keeps me searching
for a heart of gold
And I'm getting old.

Keep me searching
for a heart of gold
You keep me searching
for a heart of gold
And I'm growing old.
I've been a miner
for a heart of gold.

Poetry @ The Bean Haus

Package from Dr. Frankenstein