The lighthouse seer

Cradle of temptation like a monster tongue
Twirls tender autumn off the lighthouse
From where it once looked afternoon deer
In the reflection of a mind
Hibernated by both sulky and seeker.

Phantom of opera toy-tricks behind the red curtain

As million optimistic penetrations flash-dance
Around a global titanic prism
And billion pieces of human bone and flesh
Quiver and shudder in spasmodic trance.

Sullen evening at Everlasting Lust Door

Sips organic delirium from under morphed images
And the deprived souls set out to lurk after
When the fallen angels in graveyard garden
Swayed frantically with a wolf and guitar.

Unbridled convulsion of revenant ghost heart

Shape sifting in the hollow background mirror
The dark fangs of temptation sinks until bottom
This last once the cradle breaks apart in a tear
Autumn and i sail back into the lighthouse seer.

The fourth horizon

From far off of this crowded cauldron
Sits a window.
Under the middle moon
Like an obscure seeker.
Looks a cryptic metaphor like
All squares dissolve and murmur.

From far off of this crowded cauldron
Sits a window.
And in this esoteric window sits
A double sided mirror new.
Looking out the fourth horizon.
The bird called Déjà vu.

From far off of this crowded cauldron
Sits a window.
Slowly unfolding her true name.
And a spellbound I is witness.
An intermittent occurrence by chance
The eternal enigma turning weightless.

From far off of this crowded cauldron
Sits a window.
Revealing her nostalgic wings
Inside a shape-shifting door.
As if the gatekeeper in distant
Will sing without no before.

From far off of this crowded cauldron
Sits a window.
A nonchalant seeker on knees
An everlasting breath in a dew.
An angel rings the surreal bell and
The bird called Déjà vu.