Dispatches from Heuristic Halo Press #2

One can no longer simply be in the world without complying with the System that governs how to be in it.

Religion is the conservatism of spirituality, meaning that it is directly connected to power politics and defending the status quo.

Tough Raw Confectionery in Sky Lane

Flow of clouds amongst the crescent cake float in sky lane

                                    wrote the wolf to wildflower “Jane”

                        Rain not today yet cloud & wind play drought game

            Pain in Jane, unable to enjoy wolf’s cake

For the other beauties in flowers the tamed take

            the idea that Jane’s malignant breeding hate

baked bread and cake in underhanded deceptive drape

Nonetheless, what matters to Jane’s not other flower’s idea

            but some simplest question from wolf as in: Why, dear?

That moment, moon, cloud & the dark sky on a windy day disappear

                        into the next dawn of hope to see fear more clear

                                                                        feel dear more near

                                                                        heal tears for years

Tyrannizers, no matter who or what,                     here Jane & Wolf clear

Look back at thousands of years of histories & humanities         the smear

            always get backstabbed                   of all your blood, sweat & tears,

                                    my dear                                                          all my dear

                                                            were closer with each step and the

                                                                                                                        End

                                                                                                                          is

                                                                                                                        Near

                                                                                                Mars Dust

                                                                                                19 June 2021

                                                                                                     22:47

M.

Soon It Will Be Midsummer

I let that bramble star flower go,

O lily of the Lethe

I wanted to trade you for an apple,

            that peach-tree blossom;

With the sun pouring over the hill,

            egg-molten.

Pan the crow,

peter-bird in the Rodeo.

In a trash bag of leaves.

The mush of pomegranate.

As the severed head was lured back

            into the lair of the incubus,

The astral flight became like

            a circumcision of my soul.

And I began to wonder, do those

            who love God, love people less?

Do those who love God

            love less?

            20 June 2021

A.

Beaten and shocked by the professionals

A young brain morphed

Into names of unimaginable thoughts

Lost not in solution of whatnot

Professionals got caught

While performed under the poorly taught

Wrought not the knife for a knight

Like a street vendor would make kites

Fight not the obliged souls

For warm hearts in ‘em won’t turn cold

Fold not to injustice like a dream

For your dreams gotta come clean

Flights taken to heights of heights

Yet down to earth here I stand upright

M.

The crystal lucidity of the sky

framed at geometric angles in time,

By the shape of trees spangled with yellow-green

that differs now and than from what it means.

The TV cackles like with a signal,

Wondering about the ring of Saturn;

On a day that recurs with things we’ve learned,

An anomaly like a silver ball?

A.


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