The haughty moon drops a feather, playing Mumbly Peg with a blind pig. As a curious crow counts acorns of a hollowed-out corpse, playing Pickup sticks with the half-goat man, melting crayons. Mephistopheles unwinds, playing a rabid cello hoax of the occult's coloring book. Playing Mumbly Peg with a blind pig.

Be wary of the Judas grape shakers, Hollywood and the talking heads, and clowns who have brought shame. Burnt offerings, sacrificial tithe, and Jezebels who want your dime, cutting in front of you at showtime. Hold the faith and believe in Jesus, and get off my Psalms, but be wary of the Judas grape shakers.

Without silence, there are no words like a selfish cat a dead leaf falling into the arms of the living my sweet Michelangelo of strings opening chatoyant eyes on heads of nod over the sea of Galilee

In the lazy daze days of Junebugs, swinging on an old used tire hanging from a tree. The dust would kick up from the dried red clay. The Peanut Man would come along, singing something about, "Old fools..." My shoestrings were full of knots, but I paid it no never mind. Taking a shine to a seesaw and monkey bars. Life was full of daydreams, Mars, and Moon Pies. My make-believe friend, Mr. Bear, and I would often have tea a...

Feeling really bloated squeezed inside this box, so, "How did The Game of Thorns end?" It's a little cold this time of year, the wife forgot my socks, but I'm wearing my best suit. Also a little quiet, but things pick up at midnight, when worms go on the prowl. I lost my password on Twitter, worked hard all my life, the safety razor gave me Tetanus and all I got for it was stones, all over the freaking place. Rows and row...

Though the puppets of night in autumn's clairvoyance, shadows play, whispering in silence, dancing neath wings, a long twilight on silent stairs living this dance on prayers, in touch with God

Who knows bellows better than the wind hung from a tree from where the roots run of which no one knows from what seed it comes like a gallows with long neck boughs hanging life in effigy suffering not smiles crying for the willows alone in the shadows kissed by the macabre of a clandestine moon longing to share whispers... "Rock-a-bye baby, in the treetop"

The Hootie Hoot and I, my gall set me free in moral decay as the carrion's filet, squandering away with death's bitter aftertaste rising with decadence yeast, cloistered with my goiter as if a requiem for an oyster, the Hootie Hoot and I

Rising from the dust of chalk, 1 Mississippi, 2 Mississippi, and 1 frigging bag of Cheetos. Who gives a rhinoceros? Ask the fool, who Thomas Jefferson was? He can't recite the Pledge of Allegiance but he knows how many chicken wings are in a bushel, that Peter Piper picked. With his one tooth, he looks like Ollie Dragon and his bottle of Jack Daniels is dry. Jesus lives in Mexico and Rooster Cogburn is the guy. 1 Mississi...

Through the fields of golden hearing of the winter in their cry a whispering of snow and the dawning of the frost something told the wild geese to go with the ever-changing sky... it was time to fly through the fields of golden

She sang my soul of polished memories as her shadow awakes neath the hush when her soft voice died on the wings of angels so deep the silence of her echoes on clear nights from the winds that ride the tides of love

As the night begins to swarm using nitrous oxide with a beer chaser teetering on the brink of insanity in the charms of the body farm beneath the dirt's jaw candy of lessons learned from the past with a cricket's toothache using death's pickaxe and dental floss for green gums teetering on the brink of insanity using nitrous oxide with a beer chaser

In my dreams, a hundred years of sleep from tiny buds to crimson rose tickled by the hermit bees as the slumberous brierwood doze in dawn's twilight glow sweet as the dew of heaven's caress of soft leaves pressed between written words and prayers kept

With whispers of cornets leaves shaking from trees ticklish poems of Autumn falling in a gentle breeze of dawn's twilight as if a colorful rainbow holding hands with nature listening to wind chimes as they dance the coquette with whispers of cornets

The wayward dark soul of twilight shadow of the devil's hermaphrodite skeleton among the stones a vessel awaking from the grave to reign on ashes of bones dragged through the gate of Hell with cinder of death's breath resurrecting the crypt of dawn in a metamorphosis of the worm