mystical phenomenology

~

I see it in your eyes

Briefly on your belly

It’s there in splendor

The glorification of everything

& nothing at all

~

Unlike embalmed scripture

You are living testament

Gobbling fish n’ chips

Heaven’s gate a chatter

Upon the threshold I swoon

~

Rawclyde

!

~

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dancing with a dinosaur

~

Going To The Chapel Of Love

by Rawclyde !

~

The most beautiful

most ghoulish empress

on Earth

& I

so sly so wry

stood on the top

of a rock pinnacle so high

up there in the desert sky

her one thousand & one demonettes

so wily so crafty

could not answer why

~

Above the panoramic valley of death

swayed her & I

her hair a furious flag of glory

the hat on my head a miracle

that would not blow away

in the blow-torch wind that

scorched wounded & branded our souls

~

The view at our feet

shrank crucifixions & ghost towns

into nothing for nobody but ants

this wild escarpment of God stretched

around the planet & bumped

the back of the head as

we stood there

on the verge of slow dancing

but just holding hands instead

our eyes wide open to

truth

~

Clouds eye-balled by like

thick novels

their pages fluttering to the climax

in a matter of seconds

~

A passing eagle dropped a feather

into me’ lady’s other hand

the great bird snapped her wing

& was gone

~

Diana stuck her new eagle feather into my miracle hat

I became Chief Hopping Rabbit

but we still didn’t dance

~

We only stood there

quietly contemplating the journey before us

then I said to her

“Ready?”

~

She  squeezed my hand

we leaped into the void

ghosts

we floated upward…

~

text copyright Clyde Collins 2012

art copyright Boris Vallejo 1994

photo from short film “On New Years Eve”

~

“the future is not ours to see”

~

A Ghost Town Called Love

~

identifying with the enemy

~

by Davy Crockett Reincarnated
 
(September 2004)
 
Sand in the wind
blood on the ground
mechanical buzzards
   circling around ~
 
I stick my thumb out
for a ride
a ragged old feller
   homeless bound ~
 
Her face appears
in the sky up above
she says with a groan
   “don’t talk about love” ~
 
The vision comes
the vision goes
a shot & splattered
   holy white dove ~
 
I’m covered with dirt
my throat is dry
I gotta leave again
   or I’m gonna die ~
 
Multiple excuses
spin in my head
yet there is
   no reason why ~
 
The sun up above
smokin’ his nose
is always there
   wherever I goes ~
 
The tip of the nose
of the flaming sun
drops an ash
   & forever glows ~
 
Tom Dooley the crow
squawkin’ at my side
squawks “hello”
   but there’s still no ride ~
 
Bullets start to fly
babies start to cry
poor folks run around
   lookin’ for a place to hide ~
 
Stumblin’
fallin’
moanin’
   crawlin’ ~
 
Buildings crashing down
on top ‘o their heads
a tank in the street
   sputterin’ & stallin’ ~
 
I become a layered cake
of grease & grime
just standing here
   without one dime ~
 
Thumb wavin’ above
the tossed & turned
wishin’ hopin’ someone
   will stop just one time ~
 
But they have no pity
they all drive by
a wet sticky tear
   squeezes outta my eye ~
 
Tom Dooley, we gotta
get out of this place
but it looks like we’re gonna
   just stand here & die ~
 
The world’s so hot
folks broken & lame
one by one
   turn into flame ~
 
Her face appears again
from deep down
outta her throat
   churns up my name ~
 
The tears won’t stop
they’re all over my face
my thumb’s stuck out
   but it seems out of place ~
 
Someone pulls over
ahhhhhhh
this picks up
   the pace ~
 
The man at the wheel
is wrapped real tight
around & around
   with dynamite ~
 
I hop in
the coupe takes off
he turns to me &
 says, “gotta light?”
 
It’s an Islamic moment
suspended in time
it’s suddenly quiet
   there’s no more rhyme ~
 
The bell in the tower
inside of my soul
swings to n’ fro
   a mysterious chime ~
 
The crow, Dooley, my friend
has flown far away
the moment ticks like a clock
   with nothin’ to say ~
 
The desert landscape
floats by like a dream
with nothin’ to do
   but lollygag all day ~
 
I dig in my pocket
pull out my bic
get the flame going
   with one little flick ~
 
The vision in the sky
of her memorable beauty
is now some how
   a silly dumb chick ~
 
As the suicide bomber
holds up the fuse
its a proposition
   I cannot refuse ~
 
Almighty God winkith
as we settle back
for one last
   bumpy cruise ~
 
Heaven opens up her
transparent arms
bumps us with love &
   other immaculate charms ~
 
A crispy flash
explodes all around
kills quite a few & sends us
  to distant angelic farms ~
 
Ohhhhhhh the sun up above
he knows
as he smokes his
   eternal cigar nose ~
 
Strums his banjo
combs his flames
& the crow so free do fly
   wherever the river flows…
 
~
.
text copyright clyde collins 2004 2017
.
~
.

The Davy Crockett Reincarnated Almanac

~

art above:

Burning Furnace of Charity

art below:

Tabernacle of The Most High

~

entering barda

~

sofia is brilliant she never fades

by those who love her she is readily

found

she anticipates those who desire her

by making herself known first

whoever gets up early to seek her

will have no trouble

but will find her sitting at the door

~

~

meditating on her is understanding

in its perfect form

and anyone keeping awake for her

will soon be free from care

for she herself searches everywhere

for those who are worthy of

her

benevolently appearing to them on

their ways

anticipating their every thought

for wisdom begins with the sincere

desire for instruction

care for instruction means loving

sofia

~

~

text by king solomon & elvis bojangles

art by kaleya at deviantart

& the strange design is by an anonymous artist

~

knock knock:

http://www.uscatholic.org/church/scripture-and-theology/2008/07/desperately-seeking-sophia

~