Poem: Over The Next Glass Hilltop . . .
Where do I go where I am unknown?
Over the next glass hilltop the music whines, the harlot dines with queens
While the beggar walks with plastic kings.
The final pain died a bloody death while arrogance crawled before truthful stings
Eyes once blinded now see “the” visual God, pure scents of man’s illusioned scenes
And music left by joker’s with no names claimed empty rooms where a destined cobweb dealed
Serpents sliced with hallowed ghostly moans clinging to the air ‘round my misery to atone
Shepherd great with no word to base, points truth, grace, to one silent face.
Shy amphibian dry and heat so high
Kisses the dreary, dreadful morgue in my sigh
Is she here, the “guide” said with halfway paralyzed lip
Is she a soul, a raven so black, or on “his” ship with windless sails on back?
Life's slow-motion scenes in silent dance
Steps in mazes so infantile while girls with frozen traits so pure
Gaze downward saying every other forbidden prayer and word
Circles their grass and cave so sad, living the time and eating the bad
I cried once evolving to a man and crying lowly as her silver eyes shown once
While backing to the lost hearts of men more vile than me
With creatures mute and loud, while violence rode upon his private cloud
Eyes tormenting the proud lashes cutting the ignorant faces brown
Not a splintered cross, not a pew nor ‘pit
She was her own savior sweet while consuming the slimy serpent hypocrite
And love, oh, love what a distance you came
Soothing her breasts that felt our disgraceful pain
We tried to stand, but only with diseased, quivering hands eaten with age
And wrinkle grand, boils so sore, not a measure, not a man.
Nothing contests a child's innocence
Children innocent rhyme sit by roadside gazing toward snowy chimes
Watching my bloody feet one drag, one scab, no reason more
Can catch her shadow, feel her hand, and die twice again
Children dance in solitary trance while numbers of stallions fall in dance
With shiny swords and anger drawn avenging the fool, the drunk, and pawn
Never claiming the title clean, never living, walking or talking the twinkle to be seen
Captives freed and still I need
Her haunting river chant heard at darkest night—I’ve no heart of rock to hold to now
Sweet lover, how evil, how playful the devil can be, running a laugh to lovers in clover
Picking flowers, teasing with false dreams with no levies
She is fading, Father! She is fading a heartbeat at a time!
Can you not, will you not, reach one finger for her?
Death's one last step I see
Over the next bloody hill lies heaven unhid
Deeds we dreamed and deeds we did
Dreams we dreamed and fools’ garments we seamed
All on the ground for us to see . . .
The scents, the death-like smells, the lost ideas we had
The chances, a harlot’s prances in dreary red light house far away
Our Bible pews and children dressed all in blue
Still our blood oozed, spilled, and finally poured onto “her” hair
And me, deserving me, tied to an angry fence the pale man owned
Caressing the brimstone, her joy did lay
Watching while hordes march just one way
Not knowing wrong, right, day or night
Watching and whispering prayers to a God now absent
Now this is Hell-a rotting, souls-a blotting, and shadows growing slim.
By the gate, you fool, an ageless incredpid creature said
You move, you say what you need to say as the gate swings once
And horses dance twice
She is there
She is there
Make your diseases walk, I say. When toucheth her head, no pain you will
Know from your death
Then over the last silent hilltop your reward is waiting.
Food for no hunger
Wine for no plunderer
And sleep, Godly-sleep, for you, her, and horses fair.
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