wɪsp

Today is a good day for us to meet, my friend;
no other time would be right for what is meant of right now.
This is the only place that we can meet, my friend;
a hundred year's souls have dusted these walls.

Just the other day, he cast out the poisons heavy in the air.
He was the one whose wrath would be let out, for her to know.

And today, we now honor those dead;
the mundane of their afterlife is timeless -- it simply is.
And here, we will honor those dead;
their rest fading through the smoke wisps and honey Jack -- to peace.

Some of Us

Standing in my boots, snowless at the Christmas door
before the sunrise, just after my day:
Starless from the city, the moon's shadow is brighter than the sky.
If it were more than a sliver as I pass the gate, then I'd say
that it would be blind the night.
I Rushed around the roads, yet settled into my home as I whistled.

Two things, I think as I pass the threshold:
A trust, and her mind's health.
The first wrecked by there being no strength.
She's exhausted; nearly run down.
Yet I'll put myself aside today
to reconcile what's now gone, and lay down by her side.
Because some of us just need some comfort
and some of us just need to be home.

Not Saying

With the sun come up, I go.

I’ve hit the highways to find what I need at home.
A long time coming, I’ve gone.
Nothing to guide me but the paint (just a recommendation)
and her curves (which are such comfort!).

I didn’t even notice the first hundred cities,
burnt by with fuel and blown away by the desert.
You’ll be lucky to find me where you stay, regardless of my findings.
I’m not saying that you don’t have luck – I’m just saying.

I’m sure that I’ll miss you, some but not all.
If only as I miss a meal:
Full for a while, but to be hungry again.

Your Numbers

Your numbers,
I see you holding them too closely.
They’ll never,
line up again like they did today.

What do you hold so dear,
as to transcend fact into reality;
as you are thinking correctly;
as you hold so dear?

(Second Column)
   
The Gods of man are just that.
All of them from one strand of truth.
Paired spirals out from one truth.
Yet they forget that they’re all of one man.

That frequency, that resonance, that vibration
are all an interface with this medium.
Your thoughts are living things of unimaginable power,
Even in a world so cold; impersonal.

Our alarms have failed!

Our alarms have failed!

They praised the selfish, wicked motivators,

they very ones who they swore to betray to the people!

Those alarms who were commissioned to challenge the power,

promising transparency,

promising assured caused,

promised a challenged power that feared doing its people wrong.

Then they sang songs of justly death!

They sang the lies of the wicked,

the hell-bent death bringers.

Greed, gold and their riches.

Who knows more? Those who toil for steel or those who toil for gold?

The dead bull -- embalmed in blood gold,

deep-fried in the lives of the followers.

It's alright though, let's, just forget about it.

Let's forget about the terrible things that never happened.

That one over there? Take his whistle!

It betrays that cause, now mine.

Cut his neck like he's a traitor and pool his blood at the feet of the war beasts who stomp on.

Cut his neck like he betrayed his cause, the cause that we all loved from early on.

To Have Died With No Peace

I’ll wait yet another day for such a love to survive.
One that will remember that we are all of the same body, which thrives together within love and patience, yet will bleed, suffer and die alone.

It’s afar in the desert, but some want it here.
I hope’t it stays away, and that we’ll be wiser for it.

Blood in the desert,
A changed key to the answers to the answer that was never right.
Those who held the trust of Nations and respect of the World squelched the dissent and portrayed its love and accomplishments.
We all believed, or so they’d want us to remember.
Those who forced the momentum to the wheel were never punished; rewards of gold and praise filled their homes, their bloodlines and their egos.
It should have been the blood that they spilt, and nothing else.
It should have been their blood that split, and no one else.

I’m sorry for what we allowed.
So young and naïve; I loved the wars.
Now I can see the lands, although from up above.
That fight is not who I am; I can’t wear those boots that now bear the fear, the dead and unhealed.

On the wings of a machine, down I gaze upon these men who spirit and lives – wasted on lies.
I pray for those gone, to rest in peace.
And for those left, just to rest; never the same and never to be young again.

Can’t you imagine the torment of the dead? It’s beyond me.
To have believed, in a lie.
To have fought, and take lives.
To have died with no peace.

…
Remembering a decade of blood that we’re trying to bury in the sands brings me to hope for a Hell for those who love the lie that stole lives, belief and peace.

I Stayed

Why would they peel it back so many years after?
Especially with the truth so well covered, covered in a decay of sands so loose.

All of our people were so happy to have traveled away:
New lives.
New homes.
All into a new life, they walked away.

They chose to walk away.
It was their choice to go, when I alone, I stayed!
The Masters made it so clear: fix it, or walk away.
I alone stayed, for I remembered its beauty against the desert plains.

It is a sad panic to share with those so forgotten, not forgotten.
I alone stayed and rebuilt these towers of man.
Since the parted days, I toiled from the worse.
Since rebuilt, they return now, only to spoil the wonders of the best.

These people, so ungrateful to the splendors that I’ve raised from debris now return.
They’ve enjoyed their fucking vacation; their Holy days.

All of our people were so happy to have traveled away:
New lives.
New homes.
All into a new life, they walked away.

Fix It

...mind’s broken down, confusing everyone around.
Nature’s got a way.
Nature’s got a way.

Seems pretty obvious to know when everything’s been done before.
I’d love to say that I’m reluctant, but look how much time it’s been already!

Seems funny about the wait, is that once you grown out of it, it’s just about impossible to go back to the healthy youth.
Yeah, not much you can do about reality.
Nature’s got a way.

Right now, you’re so much better worded.
Your memories serve you well.
Just a flash passed what could have been your eternity; I can’t remember the sight, just the face.
But you, you remember what would otherwise quickly fade.
And nature’s got a way.

Forsake the day to clear my head at night, just for these dark wintry days, so that I’ll know the way to fix it, or walk away.

Heart Back Home

All I need is your heart back home.
I need nothing from anywhere else.
Hell I know that you need need to be free,
but all I need is your heart back home.

Back safe with me where it should be.
As far as I know, everything else is a lie.

It's getting darker earlier in the day and the sun takes its time burning my sky.
And during all of that time is when I miss your heart in our home, my home.  
  Heart Home by EricSLeyva 

Clarity (of a perfect conversation)

Clarity by Paul.

I'd like to thank you for this perfect conversation. 

Thanks for the clarity near the end of some dismal situations.

It's exactly what I need.

Clarity.

If we pass these trials of pain, love and growth, 
then what will my writings be about?

Will I sing of hope, faith and love? 

What will ideas will my pen contain?

All that I can do is (hope to) know when I get there.

I know little of what I think I need, but life doesn't care about that.

What I wouldn't give, to be conversing in her depths -- so much love to give!

(Just) got to find happy times, as many as you can, as often as you can, no matter how fleeting they may be.

Living with faith in love is the best that we may ever hope to be.

Sandalwood

Kinda wanna get laid

Should put on some of that sandalwood cologne

And take some peach martini fixins to her house.

Damn high school stratification

Comfortable where I was

So empty instead of whole

A caged tiger pacing

Trying to awaken your soul.

Once we called it over

Reality it seemed had faded

I thought you were my future

Our lack of love understated.

Looking ahead I realize

My best is yet to come

I see how difficult you are

How your pain has just begun.

Top and Bottom'd

It's down right dark; touching evil.

"...it's not that dark. There's no such thing as evil in this world. Good words, deep words."

Shaken with hunger I pull from the annex of friends:

"There's no evil in this world."; only nature and people.

Not that dark; the light seen is never as it seems.

And all of my words are good words, deep words.

Avoid the tragedy of the Brother again to the Mother.

Take the wisdom that we learned from his tragedy.

His tragedy that nobody would see, because they knew not what they saw in his slowing heart and freezing breath.

They knew not that his dying dream would be a tragedy.

They only reached as a blind man would in the moonlit sands.

But now we know.

Now we know.

Now we know.

Nowe we know that all the bottles and pills to slow the dream to non-thought are canonized from his times and we must be wise to read their tales to save...

People and nature are the only truth; you may say that it's not as it seems.

People are nature and the only truth; you tell me to take the drive and see the World through glass eyes and a cut foot.

Fuck that. In the Universe of Nothing, I can't risk the infinite luck that's *can't read that word* to me what little truth I can discern from the glass eyes.

Top to bottom'd a page in nine minutes.

Blind Children

Can you remember the times when waves rolled by and crashed unnoticed, 

free to float amongst the decades of words, deaf to the screams?

It is was a time of blind children, so helpless on the beach.

Sand blew into their eyes, filled the sockets electric.

Glass formed and they could soon see, but into a mirrored past.

Six detachments of a civic people rolling between the lanes,

free to roll thru dry grass and shine lines of sheer idiocy.

It's the smell that she remembers.

It's the smell that she passed on to me, that remembered her of a red dissociative time.

Free to love that's been passed on to me.

What the sand eyes seem makes their raw lids blink,

something thrown away that they see.

It reminds them to always be happy:

as she sees her ways: her past, her now.

as she sees her ways of no consequence that she passed on to me.

Call it a fool's way.

He's from the Ocean and new to the lands.

It's so dry; a throat raw.

It's so dry; to have eyes and sand.

It's so dry; parched lips and skin.

It's so dry that hopes lies only in the Ocean. 

It takes you under. Take me with you.

Faces of Children

Turn the faces of children so that their eyes don't have to see

the sick uncontrolled free their infidelity 

(brought by) the blackness in their minds.

Turn the heads of the children.

Push their ears from the sound.

Lead their hands away in fear of what they'll hold.

-------------------

  ...for I can't find an anger more justified than toward a betraying friend who rapes the dying and sick, who need nothing more than to be sent away;

Shunned back home to the arms of love,
a love that'll heal what's not already scarred,
kiss what is as they're marks of pain implied
to those borne into a cursed body.

His manipulation and deceit pull the
sick away to wither alone as the scars grow.

(He) offers a hand and brotherly embrace;
make promises filled with abandon.

But those vibes are too easy to retrace from four years gone by.

The character of a worthless man masked
by a brilliant mind and friendly smile? 

There is never forgiveness, ever,
ever justified for a man who rapes the dying and sick.

Shunned back home to the arms of love,
a love that'll heal what's not already scarred,
kiss what is as they're marks of pain implied
to those borne into a cursed body.

No anger so justified; no death so true...

No hate so right; no killing so pure...

No curse so Holy; no Hell so welcoming...

...than the one deserved by a man who rapes the dying and sick.

10:22

Oh Eight Thirty

"0830 in the garage, light on sleep, already drank my coffee (extra bold) and listening to The Mars Volta? Could be the fixin's for a great day. Expect a noonish burnout."

"0830 PST, running on 6 hours of sleep in 2 nights, off to a 12 hour day of work/school. I give myself until 11:00: 8 hours until its acceptable. *sigh*" - m3shiiko iic.

It's amazing how things work so cyclically.

Before we know what just happened it's like so many times repressed.

Severity of life.

One week is all it takes and I'm reeling in distrust.

But in one night she fades like brothers gone before.

The tragedy of Scott was in that no one knew (what to do).

Serve justice to the unremembering.

Imply guilt to the out of mind.

Punish the sweet girl of curse.

All of this is vanity wrought of insanity.

Those born with black waves in their soul, whose control...

As she sees her ways: her past, her now...

she dreads it all again: blood and death borne still to a land which from she was cursed and banished to suffer alone, to take the pill meant to kill.

"Living the dream," she'd say with a smile, but knows all too well that even a nightmare is a dream.

Mania is a demon bipolar bear's gnarly teeth. 

They'll crush bones.

They'll eat teeth.

Trust is for the naive, and self-sacrifice will leave you dead in a realm of no afterlife.

But what's worse than forgivable is hell's despair trenches. 

It hides under the oasis, yet inside, life slows until the sands are made of glass.

In Vanity

Nearly an hour has passed since
I took this pen
and this paper.


The man told the world, "If you want to be a writer..."
_________________


Greatness relies on what?
I don't know. I'll let you know when I do.
No - I'll already be known to you by then.


Not in vanity, but in desperation.


That's the vanity - to be eternal in a lonely, unloving Universe (the clouds that blow down...)


Infinite themes to tie together that one man, or billions,
as I now see, can relate them all.


Oppressed or repressed? The people do it to themselves.
Without a unified theme or mindless pride,
the peoples' masses don't need to be surpressed.
The fear isn't of suppression, it's of unity and compromise.
That their love won't be of all.


Now - the hour of dawn.
Now or never, with not enough faith?
Never.


The fields are so dry;
the air is so dry;
the hills are so dry,
that life may never grow.


The clouds that blow down from the mountain,
bring neither rain nor snow.
Going down into a never ending Fall.
It doesn't snow, but it's not quite warm .

Power Deux

Don't have enough words to throw at this one.
Only so many to say in a day.


But look around!
    These people around me,
    they heard the best today!


The power to change their minds
has the power to break the walls.
And what lies behind
is why we heed the calls.
    Of life, of love.
    They said that love could heal us all.
        Of pain, of hate,
        staggered and stacked,
        into a wall.
Around our hearts and minds,
around the joys surrounding us
of all time.


So follow me, dead brothers.
They said that love could heal us.
That love could heal us all...


So follow me - the words weren't really mine.
I won't take the credit.
But I hope that love could heal us all.
That love could heal us all...


But I won't put faith in it.

Quickshort

Quick, short; to the point.
There's only a minute to go
and not even a way to impart
to you what I mean.


So enjoy your night,
hungry and thirsty as you may be.
I can't quench you.


Keep looking - I can't feed you.
You've only got a minute; surprised I said this much.
Keep looking - I'm hungry, too.


Welcome back.
Did you find what you needed?
What you wanted?
Did you enjoy your travels?


I'd love to let you in.
Right, I found it.
I'm full - swollen to the brim.


So enjoy your night,
as hungry and thirsty as you may be.
I will not quench you.


Keep looking - I won't feed you.
You've had your minute.
No more; enough to share.


Keep looking.

To Have Faith

I can't seem to get beyond the idea,

to believe in a God, not just the one

of the world, but a sense of Universe.

It's not even of logic of a puzzle.

A God; a Spirit.

Just to feel Him, in the spirit with my soul, if there is even.

Live like there's any hope to have an eternal legacy;

never forgotten.

A witness of being.

Faithless, you might call me.

To be faithless, there must first be something,

in which with my soul to believe.

He tells me to have blind faith.

I'd love to, sorry.

It's not that I don't want to.

I just don't.

To have faith, there first must be something in which to believe.

__________

It wasn't a resentment, logic bomb or laziness that traces my absence; 

it just wasn't - that's my point.

Babysitting Hamid

There's a place in a dream
where everything moves so slow that
you'd think it were made of glass.


I've seen it so many times before,
so I don't know why you'd all sit and stop
to see a place in a dream so slow.


So slow.
So slow.

...


Everything, made of glass.
Everything is so slow you'd think it were made of glass.


It lowers voltage to where you don't move, for hours.
Not a word or glance can make it our from your mind
to your body, which has shut down to time. Grace.


You move so slowly, I'd think you were made of glass.
So I'll be careful with my freedom, to move about.
I'll try'n not shatter you.
Not even your spirit can move away, should I break you, glass girl.

Dressed Old

He's a dressed old soul
trapped deep within a dream's dream.
Hoping to feel what nobody has ever felt.
Or an old friend to remind him of what is real;
to separate what's a dream and
to be young together, forever.

Caught beautifully between imagination; between perception.
Between imagination; between perception.
xxx

Allover

Be sourced from beyond,
is the fiery spirit
that burns through golden times.
Fuel it forever.
Every place that you see
and when the truth comes between
my life and my guilt
I'll just keep this one to myself and deal with it.
Allover what it could be,
a blessing and a curse.
It's great call of what could never be
if it's ignored, too long.

_As inserted into track Fap, draft 19 Feb 2010:

   02 FapVox by EricSLeyva

Far To Go

You land here
    provoke fear
of something so heavy its landing to never be.
Oh you'll never know how far we'd go.


Was too much said? Nothing to see here?
Was it too much? Too much it'll never be clear?
We'd hate too much? Nothing will ever be here?
Nothing too heavy over here.


It's alright.
Bring it down right here - right now.
Too sorry my master; I'll accommodate.
Land it here.
It's alright.
Nothing to fear.
It's alright.


Anything that you want.
Sorry that I slowed you down.
Just tell me how far to go.

Along to me

Like a machine that's to know,

you never know what I mean.

Every place that you'll be,

will mean nothing along to me!

Hah!

Two steps along,

that you'll never belong.

Every place that you'll be

will mean nothing along to me. [x7.4]

Sounds to me like the desert sands to belong to cream.

Everybody will know exactly what I mean along to me.

Not Except

Just throw submissions aside:
Unleash that passion
for great things
to never be forgotten.

Not forgotten except in death.
As everything I’ve learned:
That I had to learn,
I’ll soon move on.

Idle thoughts.
Transcendent restraint
to the safety
and the intrigue

Dangerously applied:
Concentrated passion.
For greater things live,
never to be forgotten.

Headstones

The season for dying has come about.

I've been a part of far too many funerals.

Right up front.

Thousands of headstones bring about the fear.

Astounded to realize that I'll someday too.

Nothing new.

So I'll stay upon my gentle way, 

mindful to watch where I set my foot.

Faithful and true, you'll remind me of you.

Such a lot to be.

It's not enough to play the bugle,

their last song of Honor.

Read of who they are:

where they've been, who they've affected, 

as you honor their final bed.

Was he younger than me to receive a bullet through the neck?

Response Dimished

A Float away like never.
B Nothing so deep this blessed.
A Return the body here
B Without the mind we love.

C Soul's magick gone,
C because his spirit's way.

A What's the mind never
C before nothing wrong?
B Spirit or the soul,
C his alone to drown.

E Diminished, soulless.
F I'll forget you.
E His spirit has feigned.
F I'll never find you.

Response Magick

8 What of that which I'll never dream? While
7 I'll never dream beyond near depth. Right.
8 Luck should not pull my body to
7 the depths which you'll venture


5 Waters might drown your magick.
4 Spiritual nothing return your
5 body with a mindless brain;
4 diminished and soulless


6 There's no spirit without the thought
6 and no thought without the mind.

Response Vastness

I've considered the vastness of that depth.
Believe it, but hell I'll stay away.
    It's a depth from which few will ever recover.
Laughter is a fire that consumes in waves
until it is destroyed.

I'd love to swim away into your hilarious magick,
but I don't think that I'll be able to attend your funeral.
Because if you're dead, there's none left.

Our brothers had magick as you've read about,
to astound on his leaving mind.
    Without you.

I'm afraid you're swimming too far!
Your body will return, but where's your mind?

Nothing is spiritual about its depth
when your mind is afloat.

Response to...

Float away like you've never

bathed so deeply before.

Without the mind we love

return the body to this shore.

Laughter's fires scourged the Winter's snow,

yet unraveled the waves of truthful bliss. 

Flooded. 

Nothing more.

Soul's magick gone

swam away with laughter's song.

Was the mind ever

before nothing wrong?

Spirit or the soul,

his alone to drown.

Diminished and soulless,

lost to the vastness of the depths;

I'll forget you.

His spirit swam away,

eyes fixed upon the light;

I'll never find you.

05ba Response To... by EricSLeyva

You Know They Never Know

My brother,

What did you take with you beyond your grave? 
(the richest places on the Earth are graveyards)

What treasures were buried on the hillside near where you died?

What manic envisionistic rants trail off in the Coastal Caves, for miles?

Did you leave any inhibitions? No way. All straight from chaos.

As on day your body fell asleep to this world,

never again to bless our midst, Brother how it pains us so.

If you brought it back, if you brought you back to our lives,

then where would you stand? Where would you stand?

What visions of Space and Light have graces your soul?

Were they of peace or of woe?

I'll keep on, keep on writing on to let them know

of your spirit, man, my brother, so that or they'll never know.

You know they never know.

Beyond that day your body fell asleep to this world,

never again to Bless our midst, oh Brother how we miss you so.

Is our sister there? Was she waiting there for you?

Or was she off to play; off in play?

I'll be fine without you, for now;

Life must keep pressing on. See you soon, not too soon.

I'll keep on, keep on writing on to let them know

of your spirit, man, my brother, so that or they'll never know.

You know they never know.

As one day our bodies will all fall asleep to this world,

up to the sky, some fantastic part of the Universe,

We'll see you soon.

We'll be together soon.

As everybody in this world, will soon, too soon, fall asleep to this world.

Fields of Love and Peace

Hey friend,

You've got a wonderful spirit that shouldn't ever die. Never die.

Don't try so hard old friend.

Let the world's woes pelt off of your armor like a rainy coastal storm across the mountains; be the rock.

You're so proficient when you don't try too hard.

Your spirits flow like water from a spring; so cool and refreshing.

Be yourself, brother in Spirit, and don't try too hard.

Let your mind Swim and your Spirit fly beyond the sky,

as it'll never die, like my Brother.

On some beautiful night, drive up the Coast out to the field that looks toward the Ocean; take it back to what's right.

Love and Peace,

Your old friend.

Mead: Five Star, a year later.

I started a sort of free association writing on 1 Sept 2010, just a few days ago; I started this blog, Fluorescence, 1 Sept 2010, a year ago.

Fluorescence sat for an entire year before I started writing in it. Its first entry was titled "Mead: Five Star" although I never ended up writing in that notebook, but started writing in a new, devoted Mead: Five Star just a few weeks ago not for a dream journal but for a lyrical prose sort of tone, and the new one didn't take on any meaningful form that I wanted it to until 1 Sept 2010, a year since dedicating the idea. 

Strange coincidence. Completely unintentional.

Love Surrogate

Hey girl, there it is.

Can you feel it rising up from the underground?

Death and hate should commiserate;

liken akin to the surrogate from up above.

Regularly, too early should they pass to open air.

Should be commensurate to the surrogate from up above.

Like love should I love with you.

Like love should I love to you.

Like any love I should make with you.

Like any love I should make for you.

That morning will dawn when that love's gone.

Like any love I've made to you.

It'll break the ground, under your feet.

I don't know why, but it'll surprise you.

Through their eyes.

That surprise I bet you'll despise.

Wrought from your hateful years which you never passed.

Don't you want to be healed, foolish woman?

Hail it all! 

She's a stubborn whore!

Up on the stake -- take her down.

She knows nothing of her ways,

for her justice broke the ground under her feet.

She knows not why -- look at her surprise!

Pull her down. x4.

Under the ground. Demons! Demons!

That morning just dawned,

when that love's gone, like the Love I've made to you.

It's kinda funny 

that now she knows

what awesome powers I commiserate. 

With death and hate? Sure.

Like any love surrogate from up above.

Red Woman

Who'll be parallel?

But who's next to rebel?

Who's going to lead them on?

He who leads with his Heart?

If there's a heart left, then it'll surely bleed.

For a horde of six men died in His Spirit, He's struck a blow

in the phosphor of the valley's sun.

Beyond that? Nobody knows.

I think they'll give up. God wins - go home.

Like they ever had a fucking chance. Right. Pathetic.

Who'll be parallel?

But who's next to rebel?

Who's going to lead them on?

He who leads with his Heart?

There'll be a heart left in every child to bleed his Honor.

Complex tribulations of rivarly passionately left behind wither down the way, sides to sides.
Loving each kiss into revolutionary moonlight bite; the bitch'll push him on.

No heart is left to bleed it, it's back home yearning irregularly beating Her spirit to His return.

Beautiful broad,

stripped down in His bed.

Beautiful broad,

strap her down to His bed.

Pulsing red woman on fire in His heart.

Who'll be parallel?

But who's next to rebel?

Who's going to lead them on?

He whose heart is still beating?

If she's left him a heart then it's certainly bled for Her.

She'll left him His heart for every piece of his Hordes.

Like their Gods ever gave a damn. 
Beyond that? Nobody knows. 

Coffee Time

Blissfully her curves rummage through my thoughts

like some melody of waves as her voice.

But she burns.

Alive she burns, but nobody can dig her out.

That's too bad I guess, as safety can't be had by all.

Isn't God Love? How Lovely that even He won't Love all?

I'd say His demons might. Seriously.

Ravage? Sure. That's cool.

+++ (Coffee break) +++

I love everything about it. 

  Phospor ranges of sound.

  Glimmers of hope'll surround.

But God damn it's too grand!

  Who's the most hope of life?

  They'll be amongst my fight.

He created it all too grand for one man.

To begin years too late beyond what'll stimulate.

His lovely Spirit drives me on, like it was ever there - not that it needs to be.

As His truth'll inspire those to call his Love.

All of this noise is drowning my brain! 

[although I should be thinking with my heart]

I made all of the noise. So much of it in fact that I can't sort through it.

Like some melody of waves. Her voice. 

Blissfully she rummages through my thoughts.

Over-awed by a Holy demon let's back it off.

Take one or two at a time in a Black colloidal brew. Yeah. Coffee time.

From a friend

Hey friend,

That's an awfully jolly roger you're flying.

Think how he'll head down with us to meet up

with the girl up there on the rocks.

She'll give it all for a hard crack at her;

blow her away with the winds that furled past your mast.

She'll give you a hand for a hard crack at her;

she'll look a grin with a long smile.

Don't get your hopes up for too long, though.

Tighten up your ropes, buddy.

- From a friend.

Stone's Crush

The damned ground shakes just 

about death before the sounds impend it.

Breaking beside the dry Mountains.

Who knows how I started?

I'll never know as they've flown aspace.

Like it began,

years before their time and/or timely demise.

Soft and slowly

just before the sound breaks right

over my head.

Prior to being forgotten.

Fallen out of my head.

Life crawls out of the water

and asks me what I've done to get here - like I know!

Like I had had a say in this at all! It just happened to me, too!

"But follow along with me.

Trust my hands; all of the work that they've done for me,

although nothing of power, as I'm just one of you as well," I'll say.

The stone's crush shrugs without your life, so

press on like there was a God who Loved before these times.

Just press on.

Just press on.