For the In-joy-ment of it all

When i grow weary of the tatterings from life



i close my eyes
and look from the out~side in



and



of tickled pink roses on a glittered roof



and of pine cones tucked in~to a corner



and of strange candelabrums to light the way



but mostly I dream of poetry written on the walls,
like.....

In limitless time,
the sum of things
scattered forth.
while flashing fires
& liquid light
dissolved immortal lament.
this is the nature of the soul.
i slipped forth
& swam into the breeze.

or how about:

Philosophy pressed against the nature of things
& said,
This is the honey of poetry.
with my mind set upon good reason.
with the charms of a muse,
telling tales of a tall and floating woman,
in the woods,
with her Unicorn galloping freely home.

Then I wake up and say,
"How many times will I allow life to make me forget?

I AM A

of Paint. Darn it!

And

for

repeat:
Paint flows through my Soul
& out my flesh
& onto every
single
thing
I
touch.

That means I can always bring it back to color.



"So can you," she says.




Yeah, You can.

~magick~
Meliss