demons cry in colors eyes cannot recognize

[mtmynd]

~demons cry in colors eyes cannot recognize~
___________________________________________

brush the fever from
foreheads perspiring
thoughts exploding into
nether-heather worlds
colliding with forces
beyond simple equations
lined up for analysis
by scientific geeks
clothed in white sheets

the tumultuous thunder
ricochets thruout the
universe, beckoning its
children to sigh in pale
disbelief over the utterances
of graveyard gossip, laid below
the tombstone actors of lifes
broken stage, nails scarring the
flesh of knees submitting to
images of wonderland fuck fantasies
filmed in four dimensions in
dayglo colors rinsed from rainbows
patterns after the sunsets of jupiter.

the claw of eagles entrenched into
the arms, wrists, fingers of eternity
grasping for one last chance to roll
the snake eyes staring in disorderly
mannerisms, puking from fanged lips
blood that runs parallel to vice whose
leathered palms execute the marmalade
maid undressing in the catacombs of
earthly disembodiment, askewd by bamboo,
the barbecue cheeks of despair set the
maidens soft long blonde hair
aloft in the sun's apathy and disuse...

frankenspeak chortles the view of timidity
that fails to embrace the criminal chime
from bells that lock away the humpbacked
ringer from his self ascent into high
depravity.... ghosts of delight grinning
behind closed curtains, revealing their
distrust in looms full of forgotten wools
shaved from beasts that rode the ancient
skies, burning scriptural promises that
heralded the return of satan's first uncle
whose disobedience claimed the lives of
multiple disasters to arise on the fragile
landscapes of heron's swept to the seas,

only to drown in the immobilities of pagan
warfare...the tools of destruction created
upon the fires of a hell which burned brighter
than the multiple suns of roving constellations
rotating with lustful purposes, until the
time of calling was heard by false prophet's
ears, plugged with lava from exploding wisdom
forged into swords that slain the last of the
dragons from the faces of china and japan..

bound in silken ribbons, the feathered remains
of Love shall not be seduced into the wickedness
of ways dug out of dirt that has spilled off of
lusts one way vision, whose angular modalities
wiggles left and right over the bumps created by doubt.

(ahhh..the calm of rain dispels tragedy from it's fearless wake...)


_______________
Cecil aka mtmynd

[mnaz]

Complexitudes! And somewhere in silent, breezy deserts below those high-hitched hills, the antidotes. And they ain't about gold, or whoever has the biggest fire.