My Ravenstooth… raven123


Aged magnificence like flowers plush in the sun’s sorcery.  How wicked the game, with completions that call us on to greet the final tally.  Motions are weak by creatures in their innocence.  Tortured souls, the days are ripe like wet saturated faces that weep madness in our dark horrible nightmares.  Can we seek journeys that no one man will dare venture, only to search for the valor of a united prologue.  Songs aerie to the labyrinth in secret domain.  The Eagle is praying to the Raven.  Cataclysmic sanctuary for the forbidden young.  They sense visions and act as if they’ve etched our soft lazy souls on the corner where the beggars play mockery to the once prolific contributions.  Dead End is the sign.  And the beggar is still grinning.  The Raven chants “I KNOW” and doesn’t HE always.  When we crank the sounds, where are we reaching?  Do the impulses weaken our intellect?  Our goal is fuck, but how we expire is at the final summit.  The rope is our holster in the unthought-of surprise.  Lunch time, and we gorge on milk and bread. Sunrise, and the days are created for us with signs burned on the roads forest.  Are we more than just farmers, businesses, magicians, friends?  Hands on the concrete, we call to The Raven and The Eagle but they just fly on by, and we wonder if they can hear us beg in the fire light of time.  Conscious in the morning at our coffee table yawn. Decisions- they are always waiting to move forward.  

We were waiting at the restaurant one afternoon to be seated. The waitress was motioning us to follow. As we seated and glanced at the menu, she poured water in the glasses for us to drink.  Once we order our food we ate and paid and exited the restaurant.  When we arrived at home, we were still waiting at the restaurant to be seated.  So we sat down and order our food.  We were pretty hungry by then.



Captured by the moonlight, the fire sparked illusions in our glazed faces.  The wind breathed life into the smoldering eyes that once brought inquiry, taught us intent in the useless reprieve that we dared to believe.  We shutter as the twilight broadened the shadows in our pretend beast that even quicksand couldn’t hold.  We are naked in the ancient forest changeling.  The world is the creator for our lust for enlightenment.  We’ll ash over like the campfire we’ve lit. Hidden, until THEYunearth their questions, their wonder, their unreasonable quest for the unknown.  Trees, moss, stone… alone…How’d we even get here, they ask scratching their heads, turning the pages.  The sun farted and we whirl pooled down the shitter into the vast leach field of planets, atmosphere, clouds, rain, oceans, and land, without any wipe. COMPUTE.


Just like it.  Don’t fight it. Tell us what you feel.

Here’s twilight. Then Night time. Nothing is ever real.

So… bring Sunshine or rain storm, then lightning.  No one really cares.

Here’s Midnight, Sun’s so bright, blinded by your fears.

One second. One river. The water gently falls.

On two now, the ocean calls and calls and calls.

Your high now, all lost now, remember is the game.

Too gone now, you’ve forgotten, you hardly know your name.

But she’s right there, you see her, she guides you all astray.

She taunts you, you deliver, as the night begins to day.

So… metamorphosis. A lone star shines, showers a steady rain.

A cold stone weeps, in the river, as the water begins to drain.

One rain drop. One ocean. Here inside your brain.

Now two fall. In the city, and no one hears the pain.

Just like it. Don’t fight it. Tell us what you feel.

Here’s Autumn. Then Winter. Earth has made the deal.

So… we start over, in the morning, then fall into our beds.

Earth repeats us, then we discover, what’s really in our head.



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