autobiography (1)

born at rose lit dawn

in black mischief
with tough thickets
all protruding

simple words, proclaiming
your existence.bitter shades
at a distance,whispers of stars
through brick walls,my crippled cradle song

wares the dark
wants itself
to be free
and far,at a distance from me
2:
lo its no stranger its candlelit
coven flattens the reeds
starting plagues for no better
reason, as far as i can see

then to ravage bushes
and women who speak prophecy
your tattered book
bible dictionary

be it read in darkest passions
as babes cling to abhorrance
in desolation so i cling to knowledge
pyramid passages lead to crypts

my heart no longer acknowledges my masters
not that my mind can really reason
on stone pathways and sweaty martyrs
unto heaven my ego falters
-2
light is gathering
at diseases point
my lung capacity
now collapsing
i took my way to a sicilian port

3:
the night is leaden abbey ways
see the apparation of the beast children
waken with sleep their temporal blackhole
eyelids slave to distortion,its quite twisted

every golden dawn does drive us into the cairn
seeking dirt in our own holes
finding someone satanic to behold
in a book with earwigs and sorcerors mold

contained in me
i confess for being me
nothing less,nothing more
the crystal showers bathe me
time is no more
what i describe does not explore what i really mean
everything falls and dissolves
leaving me
in ruin
-3
reap the corn
watch it grow
feel the mist
rush of blood

4;
in tornadoes


i gazed the bookstore window
belief
and to read
a light to ignite ideas
to live ideals and to keep love insight

5;
the fire too despairs
for screams of help
and convalescing
whispers
at the hours of the stone tomb
are opening

come midnight!!!