Knots

How to untie this knots I have found
since
several weeks ago.
Well I keep finding knots.

And the key is not to untie them
but to use them as your strength.

Don't think it through because you will smile at the end.

People have crawled, people have smiled.
We will crawl, we will smile.

So, when you need words, I will help you.
Even if I have fourty-thousand knots around.

Don't Change Plans

Don't change plans.
Your cousin holds a swifty knife to the heart.
Swifty talent, holds a sword up and down:

"Don't smile if the sky falls down."

You walked through the woods.
Darken paths, the water was fresh.
At your roots you smiled and said:

"Can you help me now?
I have waited for winter.
I smiled when it came and gave my bread away."

St. Louis out of breath, the words were said.

"Truly?"

"I don't need to say it again"


You will.

To make the story short
we crossed rivers of sand
And your cousin managed to wade through our lane.

Had the devil's eyes, with a sword.
but I didn't back my word:
"If money makes you happy, -here--"

Cousin put an end to it, as he backed up from our lane.
But the end is far from near.

My affection will last today-
if not forever,
and will not
be
pulled
up
by

a stranger.
Who renders

his sacred stones
up to plain view.

Don't change plans.
Even if the birds have been whitened from the grave.

Erased.


On a bleachy well-to-do Sunday.

Adam's Square

Look again, she's waiting for your original signal.
Soviet Mirror, you were so keen to her, call the saviors out!

We don't have a need to see her go, so, "ahead", said the cows and pigs.
Make the sheriff quiver.
Make the brain cry.

I have a Zero Agent that assures Eve longevity but does it while touching the fire of the square.
Eve shows anger and she is handed into your graces, beyond and forgotten.

You can be happily seeking joyfully catching each other's eyes, in vitro.
To have your hands sunk into Eve's ooze.

You chose to bite. Adam easily rejected you.

Cloudy

I will not render my
self.
Until you near your
self.

The rain has said to me, repeatedly: "A word was carried between your lips,

between my grip."

You were smiling yesterday but today you are in the spot in which I have been
many times,
"What do you wonder" I think,
as
your blank stare
speaks volumes
and sadness
my eyes to witness
you
turning your back
against the cold.

Oswald Can Read

In order to jump, you need to foresee the ground you will be landing on.

Amen, Oswald. I swallow my pride for your sake.
I don't know any other ways to say this, and you haven't showed your weaknesses either.
"he won't tell us."

Veronica knew she was stepping on dangerous ground, even before you.
She made a sacrifice, she said, "hoping-the-wheels-wouldn't-turn-on-me."

She climbed and stood on a leash, reading two-sided verses to you:

"Love, our future ends."

today.

The bells swayed themselves, I didn't take part in this but Veronica was a Seamless Bell.
You couldn't tell.
Now you go walking single-handed again, wondering the source of
Veronica Antoinette's dissapointment.

If you'd only knew.

Stay exactly where you are, without claiming whatever you think belongs to you.
Glance to the right, where Veronica lies dead, blaming this on Love.

With such a warm split.
A sunwash of your soul, Oswald.
You need to listen first.

To O.

I raised both arms, holding
at your sky's grip.

At the lament.
Silver lament.

Love amidst us, ties a knot in aquamarine sunrise.

You gave out your black chords. The divine lets itself flow in a curvy shape.
Spare out the even.

Handle the tool so I can carve even deeper.

Salvia 59

"...To truly find what you want, before you want it."
The shaman said, worrysome, and petting the Voodoo Mistress.

But the waters haven't been cleared.
I said: "how much time do I have left?"

(to be able to trick you)
(only if you trick me)

Shaman's mistress lowered a diamond to his hands, unaware that I was watching.

Another line was uttered, below his breath:
"Your handshake is an arachnid. Full of cream to the beholder."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I got closer so I could hear what he was humming.

Both the mistress and the shaman gasped.
The cat screeched and ran.

The mistress said: "Don't near yourself into perilous caves, when sun lures you inside."
She sat down and loosen the grip she had on shaman's forearm.

(to be continued.)

Wichita Stones

Upon the green sea, bigger and plain and up-to-someone-else's-point-of-view.

I am not safe in a corner.
I am not "green grass, touch and tell", if you ever thought I could be.

"There's many miles ahead, but have you ever stopped and looked at the desert?"
I have been asked.

From here my hands are tied, I battle those who I fear. Little Dried Wichita Stones.

Bottled Lava, the sheriff smashing up our future.
Little Dried Wichita Stones, from me and for me, inwards.

Little White Rocks, Marilyn.
But the tender future seemed long gone.

Hard to say, and hard to keep.
Part of those who lack of options, today.
So, help me see the sunrise. A quick glance.

Tomorrow is late, options that would not fit ourselves.

I know the good side of everyone else's soul, but yours.
I need a black cry that can foresee that tomorrow I am going to have my prints at my highest:

"Wichita Stones will not lie at my rocking chair, I say."