Ley Lines

Unsure of uncalculated recognitions
Inside referred rites of phonetical tones
Undulating by those insisting brigades,
Enders of chaotic miscalculations
In seemingly infinite formations
Of thought processes prematurely
Embedded in distinct ley lines of heralded ancient
Alignments; their locus in inexperiences,
Unfocused on acceptances in the factually excessive
Encryptions, were left alone to learn customs of esper minds.

Uniformed worries augur
In redemptive creases supposedly
Indicated from repeatedly delving too deeply, culled
Into replyingly defined catacomb mines
Of disabling retentions in phantasmal creations
As whereabouts of their current states dissolved
In those inculpating pantomimes.

Eons in innocuous scruples aggregated
Inside, likened, to scrupulous relativities
Inattentive to most definitions in truths,
In If’s knotted into story’s linguistics all
Inundated lest onerously denied equatively.

Indigenous ideologies retraced
Unto divinations living inside understandings;
Inclinations inching to the perceived;
Eurekas unearthed inside discoveries.



Tonal airs drift towards squeamish rows.

Shortly after, snow flurried onto shorn hairs that
Candidly shown; glints from cable cars, seemingly
Sewn into rails of justifications in worn realities, were then
Geared to avoid defunct enamored tears.

We noticed mixtures that could be of the perfected;
Severances in all them reviled humanistic tendencies.

Telephonic displays; their identifications,
Coo their heartfelt sympathies,
Done by drones, as they’d reassure and
Say, “I love you” in electronic voicemails.


Despairing haunting horrors
Of spectacled menacing grins
Of tentacled worlds, caught or lost;
A negated named nameless sage
Belonging to others in real realities
Comes slickly crashing down in finality.

While discounting the possibilities,
Well in disinterested phases, slipping,
In farces of convoluted reasoning’s,
In symbols of an effigy.


Where would we be
If we’d never noticed the vaporous rippling surface
Or crossed from this timeline to the other dimension.
If we had not overcome our fear of triple point waters
Or mistimed the opening from the moon’s reflection.

Was the cost
Of the chase
Of no import,
Do these letters
Fail to support
Time as unwasted
For a muse now
Tempered across
Alternating realities.

While the effluvium
Of her solidity escapes
Into wells of hopes that lie
In dormant chases
Of the moon’s reflection.


In retrospect, I should be grateful, for
Being given the chance to witness
Scribbled extensions of undeciphered labor
Where figures posed in lines of incantations
Were carved as illusory caves of historical
Hysterics on breathable skin parchments,
For I’d have never learned to transpose
The technical aspects of applying those
Specific pressures on zinc plated panels.

I should be grateful, that the time I spent
Searching for healing lines weren’t wasted

Then why is it that I feel like crying
When I think of how I’ve lost images of his faces
When I still have these lines that fill up these pages
Even while silent whispers of finally met passion’s keep calling my name?




Then the susurrus of familiar experiences soothe
In how it didn’t seem so vastly different in its birth
In each of those misstroked hatchings.

But it was.

Don’t Be Mad

An instruction guide
Or tutorials displayed

Your predilection
For predicaments,
Valid against;
Hackneyed forbearances,
Corrupted balances,
Ridiculing statistics.

Whilst entertaining
Gritty whines,
Barred drunkards;
Efface their opponents,
Dismantle then restructure,
Adjust and adapt to rules.

Wielding a knife
Is the quickest way
To run.