Archive for November 3, 2009

Freakazoid Skeleton…

Posted in poetry, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on November 3, 2009 by ravenstooth


Drifting into chaos. Frozen immortality. Wretched under honest pleasures. Time to gift out. Here is the platform shelter. Dieing inside the words. Pleasure over stimulation. Forest begging to rekindle. Hatred, loving, caring, sharing coward. Lonesome lilac, lady slipper, Mushrooms everlasting visions, promise to see the states of everything. Shelter envy, the winter or the flavors. One day inside, the meadows flourish sour. Tell them, one day that foraging is only temporary. Plant them hover, ask only what’s been questioned. Hear sounds lost and vacant. The doorbell starts an earthquake. Shower, shower, shower, show her all life’s fucking power. Listless mocking, the wind is shocking, talking, stalking. And your eyes are water. Valor, viper a path down by the hyper child, child. Whose hair is orange fire wild. Distance, distance, distance. Here is the last remembered dream. Which one is the final emblem when we die. The ghosts are curiously tired. Spiraled.

Freakazoid Skeleton…

Posted in poetry, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on November 3, 2009 by ravenstooth


Pushed frozen like the blade forged in skin. The eyes wide and glazed swollen in the time passed. The war was to generate a medium of freedom. When does that ever happen? Clouds cry to the wind and it is a comfort to hear the rain fall on the roof. The singer stands alone and players reveal the magic they hold with one another and persuade the listeners to awe. Pass it around, hold it, then reveal the far away. The line of trees sit silent yet screech at the spring noon sun. Cars crawl at a choking pace. Tumbling in the back seat that the past has driven away in. The old songs reveal the timeless memories that have vanished once the old song is over. Here comes the unknown. Such a wonderful chance to see. Reveal what you are here for, for you are here to reveal.


Freakazoid Skeleton..

Posted in poetry, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on November 3, 2009 by ravenstooth


A look down from the tower we see.

The grapevines and the deciduous trees.

Ripening in the summer breeze.

What more could we ask for, please.

Distance- the mind never sleeps.

Always talking , rewind and repeats.

To reveal the last open door.

Hear the sound like never before.

Nervousness comes sudden and fast.

Seconds of its warmth drift past.

The horror ascends these lost hills.

So lost, the seasons diminish the chills.

Came back to see these days bloom.

Like a hawk where perched eyes loom.

Dancing in toward the fire’s tomb.

Amazed breaths of wisdom’s womb.



Keep coming, twilight it reads. How shiver, imperfect deals.

Mud running, here are your shoes. Down in the frost line.

Echoes- they insulate. Outwitted- the beacon’s gray slate.

Blue phosphate. All correlate, down to the base line.

We charge by and lick the last lime.

Driven down and no plans to try.

Sadness ate our visions and time.

And no one will say bye.

Last call, morning’s a bust. Red dawn, and she’s full of lust.

This fall, the temptation will rust. Once here up on the time.

After this, go get the got. And our souls are past the rot.

The white spot is what is not. Down in the frost line.

After this we’ll go away.

After this we’ll be out of the way.

After this nothing else to say.

After this, go get the got.

After this we’ll be past the rot.

After this is what is not.

After this… hmm hmm hmm hmm

After this… hmm hmm hmm hmm.