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				  Montage

			     By Jared P. DuBois

		    (c) Copywrites 1986,87,88,89,90,94




			     Montage is from..

			    The Vestatile Verse

				repetition

				Triumvirum

				Quadranine

				 pentacle


			      Montage is..

	     neither acceptance nor denial
 
		   The Immortals, Mortal Rectitude
		   Affinity, Centricity, Life (again.)
		   Time Again, In Ignorance

	     maelstroms leading up

		   Rites of Passage, Landmarks Left By
		   Chasten Not I, A Moment's Peace
		   Distance Closes In, In My Prime
		   Less than Whole,  What was then

	     sounds of our love's song

		   As it is
		   Absence Presence and Promise Fulfilled
		   Once Bitten, Four- Leafed Clovers
		   Remembrance, A Single Rose
		   I found my soul, We Once Touched, Goodbyes
		   To Be You, Give me love

	     of life and truth and fate and lies

		   The Long Journey, The Wayfarer
		   The Executioner, The Cauldron of Fontaine
		   Once a King

	     to make a sound or stir

		   Contemplating Freedom, Fears of finding out
		   The Haunting, I cannot see me
		   My mind is Free, Once is me
		   Starry- Eyed and Boisterous

	     to question why

		   Our Legacy of Lethargy, To Wit
		   Outgrown Innocence, Death of a Child
		   Automatons, The Eternal Yoke
		   Sword of the Slight, Conscientious Objectors

	     the indomitable straits of time

		   Motions Passing, Eclipsed
		   Momentous Moments
		   Moments of Repatriation, In Unison
		   Prismic, Waiting, Tomorrow

	     on into the sunset

		   The Dark Horse, Excelsior
		   Crystal Castles, Lexicon








		      neither acceptance nor denial


			      The Immortals

	    Beat fast oh heart of endless motion
	      that carries us through the shrouded stillness
	     of the omnipresent cold eternal night
	       which holds countless souls captive,
	      entombed within its endless fiefdom
		smothered in angst and robbed of sight

	    Move quickly you who dare to think
	      that you have any relevance to it all
	     or it to you or you to what is right
	       lest you may learn that nothing matters
	      to life which you may cherish or despise
		and to death which merely continues this plight

	    No future is real and the past slips away,
	      not wanting to be remembered or relived,
	     not holding onto you nor letting you hold it
	       as you are perpetually thrown into nothingness
	      and then let to grasp at something
		yet that something never enables you to quit

	    Constant scurrying with nowhere to go
	      is the empty fate which befalls us all
	     and holds us in the wake of endless questing
	       after truths that lose their importance
	      as easily and as often as we lose our lives
		without diminishing our spirit's vesting


			     Mortal Rectitude

		Pushing ever towards the end
		  we reach out for the newest and latest
		 and we receive them yet again
		   never doubting
		  the relevancy or immediatcy
		    of evolution

		Seeing ourselves decay
		  and knowing our governments and systems,
		 our attempts to keep change at bay,
		   condemn us
		  to see that our lives and ritual actions
		    are institutions

		Doomed to eventual obscurity
		  we struggle to achieve eternal importance
		 lest we become forgotten history
		   always believing
		  that to be remembered is to live,
		    an absolution

		Pegged into the fold,
		  locked into a slice of eternal time
		 chained to life fading and old
		   ever acknowledging
		  neither acceptance nor denial
		    is resolution


				Affinity

		     Out from the pool
		       of miracles we come
		      as tiny sparkles of light
			glisten off our wet bodies

		     By the enchanted pool
		       we make ourselves homes
		      due to the abundance of life
			beneath its shimmering surface

		     We drink in its nectar
		       which not only sustains us
		      but also revitalizes us
			for we are what it is

		     Within this pool
		       lie the unborn young
		      waiting for us to come
			in to bring them out

		     When our time comes
		       we return to pool
		      and dissolve into it
			helping to keep it full


			      Centricity

	      I see myself in the center
		of a ball that is spinning around,
	       never colliding with another
		 and never striking any ground

	      The rotation continuously gains speed
		until the mass of myself becomes lost
	       as my identity fuses with the incessant motion
		 while my trepidations lose hold and get tossed

	      I now see the universe not as a thing
		but as a set of intercontingent motions
	       which sense each other through vibrations
		 felt though empty spaces living ocean

	      An order arises around my spinning
		as I fulfill that pattern surrounding me
	       completing the formation of a new ball
		 with each part intrinsic to its destiny


			      Life (again.)

		    Life,  it is a game and a dream
		      It is everything and nothing
			and something in between

		    It is reality and fantasy,
		      logical and magical,
			superficial deep in mystery

		    It is both a test and a plan
		      for being and believing
			and for choosing as best you can

		    It also is a race
		      but the first and last
			both share the first place

		    It is a nursery rhyme,
		      beautiful and simple
			and made for simple minds


			      Time again

	    Never is ever ever enough
	      for life itself is in the extreme
	     surpassing itself time and time again
	       for that it is
	      and for that must it always be
		as this or that comes to rule
	       each moment becoming that time
		 while chaos itself reigns supreme
		for all that may no matter what,  no matter when
		  must bow to this

	    Time becomes time again
	      defining itself anew each resurgent light
	     as all of creation falls down to this
	       until it was
	      and then never again would it,  could it be
		paved over by insatiable lust for life
	       driving those others over that which drove it
		 seeking to become that moment,  become that life
		which by turns gives life and feeds off of it
		  living by giving what does


			     In Ignorance

	 In ignorance I look to the sky
	   sensing some higher order,  some higher mind
	  as yet unknownst to me so I pass it by
	    enjoying peace and pleasure and like in kind
	   for place untold cannot bind

	 In ignorance I live each day without fear
	   oblivious to death omnipresently everywhere
	  in each potently deadly soul be they far or be they near
	    for life and death and consequence we each share
	   needing to be needing,  being to dare

	 So life leave to mystery and to death leave the facts
	   so cold and unchanging written in black upon black
	  for living is standing with the truth to our backs
	    facing the yet-to-be true, the ever changing track
	   surmounting the known with each little act

	 Thinking meaning existed then,  or when,  or ever
	   we see ourselves as lost and forever wandering blind
	  yet to see truth as evolving becoming full truly never
	    is to accept ignorance as a fact,  a mean state of mind
	   knowing all knowing soon succumbs to time








			  maelstroms leading up


			    Rites of Passage

		Whereupon passing from one
		  such place,  stage,  or happenstance
		 to another of a dissimilar like
		   the payment must be rendered
		  at the passing of the gate
		    which separates thus from then

		When the payments be solid
		  as gold,  currency,  or valuables,
		 they matter none the more
		   than when the charges be those
		  which cannot be weighed
		    nor counted nor easily judged

		Most often the toll is extracted
		  from the treasure trove of ideals
		 guarding one from dogmatic pestilence
		   of bitter aversion to optimistic aims
		  thus reducing our fated immunities
		    to the entwining tentacles of despair

		The fees be not too expensive or harsh
		  upon the travelers of moving time
		 and each debit paid becomes a badge
		   marking ones worthiness to stand
		  toe to toe with those who've felt the fury
		    of the maelstroms leading up to heaven


			    Landmarks Left By

		Ahead is another landmark
		  by which to frame off another section
		 of my hectic endless journey
		   between the here and now
		  and the there and then
		    along life's lonesome highway

		The terrain and scenery changes
		  by not nearly so often or as drastically
		 as I myself become changed
		   by each new turn
		  and each new fact learned
		    as I bridge the greatest divide

		Another set of useless baggage
		  gets thrown off by the wayside
		 as I shed my skin
		   like some odious reptile
		  eager to leave the past
		    for the uncertainty tomorrows bring

		A brand new version of me
		  will relegate all that I am now
		 to the past pages of time
		   for I shall not remember
		  nor engage in the pursuit
		    of ambitions which meant everything to me


			     Chasten Not I

	       Look long into the face
		 of relentless change
		in moving clouds above,
		  the volatile seas surrounding us,
		 and in the shifting sands beneath our feet

	       Look long for looking is living
		 and living is learning
		to sort out the pieces
		  we choose to build up ourselves
		 from fragments of the past

	       Turbulence comes to us
		 through the cracks
		of the fortresses we build
		  to capture one moment in time
		 until we can comprehend it or ourselves

	       Our only solace for comfort
		 is born within ourselves
		out of a need to remain
		  and be steadfast that we are
		 somehow one step above the fray


			   A Moment's Peace

	    In the dim afterglow of a fiery sunset
	      a small child sits quietly on a sandy beach
	     staring at the last traces of warm colors
	       to reflect off the water's static surface

	    The light fades to a dim hazy blanket
	      settling comfortably down upon the horizon
	     and the patient watcher of celestial events
	       counts the stars as they suddenly appear

	    A slight onshore breeze begins to stir
	      bringing the youngster relief from the humid air,
	     thick with the sticky feel of salty moisture
	       that comes with the burning days of August

	    As the nights coolness envelops the shore,
	      the tired child slowly begins the trek home
	     trying hard to savor the last days of summer
	       and vowing to stay at peace in a frantic world


			   Distance Closes In

	Distance closes in
	  and horizons once seemingly endless
	 become known, and being known, uninteresting
	   as the playpen to the room,
	 the room to the yard, the yard to the street, ad infinitum

	The planet, being known
	  thus becomes to small to frame us
	 so we search out new limits to our view
	   and overlook the unknowns at home
	 in our cities, our streets, in our peoples, and in ourselves

	Infinity itself collapses
	  under the weight of impressive stares
	 as if to say what else can I do, what more can I give
	   and we ourselves, not knowing, merely shrug
	 and walk away saying we only thought there'd be more


			    In My Prime

		I see myself in my minds eye
		  in my youth stout and strong
		    and in my prime
		 too untamed and too untried
		  not to think that all the world
		   could be bent towards my will
		    by my pride

		Wary now,  I seldom wander
		  to find fulfillment of futile goals
		    lying ever yonder
		 yet in my heart and in my dreams
		  I am still a fool eagerly awaiting
		   opportunity to cast away my wisdom
		    if sorrow it means

		Is ignorance bliss,  I wonder
		  debating whether incremental time
		    is some cosmic blunder
		 for when age brings us aquiessence
		  for lessening roles in lesser amibitions
		   we still believe we are more and have more
		    as we lose faith in our essence


			     Less than Whole

	  Tragic are the taming events
	    as when the brain asks for actions
	      which the body can no longer deliver
	   Such sorrows be blessed upon they
	     who have conquered much greater foes
	       only to succumb to time's revenge

	  The brain is not removed
	    from this embarrassing loss of sinew
	      once life demands more than its dwindling capacities
	   Loss is supposedly a gain in disguise
	     but how do we understand losses
	       when they are in us and our abilities to reason

	  Bittersweet is the facility to remember
	    as nature robs us of loves and joys
	      yet lets us continue to mourn their passing
	   though who among us would wish to lose
	     our memories if not our mortal selves
	       if we could keep but one or the other


			       What was then

    Looking back on life
      who'd have ever thought
     that I would be to say
       what it was if I am not
      now that the fullest sense of me
        exists not or in some other way

    Was it really real
      I feel I cannot know
     if I am to be what I've become
       and master this new means to grow
      as unfamiliar to me as I to myself
        wondering if my past and future can live as one

    Can meaning exist without facts
      for those facts upon which I have relied
     to tell me what and who I've been
       exist not to me now if ever they lived and died
      and if they never lived at all,  then neither did I
        yet somehow I am and maybe though not in me,  in somone them








			sounds of our love's song


				 As it is

		  As light as a feather
		    that flutters to and fro
		      fancifully upon the slightest breeze
		   As strong as the feeling
		     of futility at the suppression
		       of an undeniably growing sneeze

		  As warm as the color
		    of a blazing crimson sun
		      on a pale morning sky
		   As safe as a prison
		     or the painted sanctuaries
		       in which we all shall lie

		  As indefinable as the moment
		    in which we finally come
		      to know and love ourselves
		   As rich as the body
		     and soul of mother earth
		       which gives but never sells

		  As these and so much else,
		    so is my love for you
		      and so shall be forever more
		   As easy as it is to say
		     it is far the more difficult
		       to feel all is real and I am yours


		  Absence, Presence, and Promise Fulfilled

		   Without love
		     I am free to cultivate hate
		    without fear
		      of any unseemly contradiction
		     to drive me
		       to purge either one or the other

		   With love
		     I may love just a few
		    without need
		      to share that love with all
		     or justify
		       loving anyone better or more

		   Within love
		     there is the hope I may live
		    without seeing
		      anyone in my heart clearer
		     than anyone else
		       who is no less worthy of the same


			      Once Bitten

		   There is a bittersweet fruit
		     that once it has been bitten
		    overpowers you with its flavor
		      and by its nectar you are smitten

		   You lose to it your will
		     as it holds you in its rapture
		    and you do not mind
		      that your soul it did capture

		   It caresses you with joy
		     but its absence causes you pain
		    It creates a need in you
		      that with you will forever remain

		   It is not a poison 
		     nor is it any drug
		    but it is just as deadly
		      for it is called love


			   Four-leafed Clovers

		  To errantcy,  be human
		    to forgiveness,  be divinity
		   for my soul yearns only
		    for your soul's proximity
		   as laughs and our laughter
		    playfully bubble over
		   alighting gently upon
		    two four-leafed clovers
		   soon to be near and yet
		    oh too soon to be gone,
		   tearfully bidding adieu
		    to the last ringing of the gong
		   and riding out the waves
		    to the sounds of our love's song
		   sung to the meadows and the trees
		    answered only by the rustling of leaves


			      Rememberance

		 As I lay down to sleep
		  I pray this memory I shall always keep
		   of you with me now in my time
		  in my world,  in my soul,  and in my mind
		   for though we must continue to change
		  I hope to keep a piece of this treasure
		   of pleasure brought by loving you to me
		  with me always,  even in my darkest hour
		   when my body lies cold,
		  bled dry of feeling and power,
		   for if I have but this memory of you
		  I will still have love
		   and joy and peace and light
		  and a little slice of the best time
		   in my life


			      A Single Rose

		 For want of a rose
		   I walk through a garden
		  filled with lush deep green foliage
		    and brilliantly bursting flowers
		   so overwhelmingly beautiful
		     I am bedazzled through and through

		 Petunias and marigolds abound
		   along with a rainbow of tulips
		  opening themselves to the morning and me
		    yet not a single rose is there
		   to meet me or to greet me
		     or adorn my tattered clothes

		 The beauty of the garden
		   is not lost on such a fool as me
		  as I revel in the blossoming life
		    and partake in communion with the beauty
		   not allowing myself to regret
		     the absence of a single rose


			     I found my soul

		       I found my soul
			 only to find
			   you had been there first

		       You had stolen it
			 and left a note
			   which said 'I love you'

		       I searched for you
			 but instead
			   I found myself

		       It is in needing you
			 that I am,
			   and I want to be


			     We once touched

			We once touched
			  in another time
			 in another world
			   we left behind

			We laughed and loved
			  in that magical place
			 warm like the stars
			   in the coldness of space

			We shared time
			  and we shared ourselves
			 ringing in harmony
			   like musical bells

			We were two
			  together as one
			 blissfully ignorant
			   and having fun


				Goodbyes

			 A tender kiss
			   a long goodbye,
			  two loving hearts
			    care not why

			 To be apart
			   means despair,
			  for them its almost
			    too much to bear

			 They wear smiles
			   as they bid farewell
			  but their hearts know
			    what words can't tell

			 The bond stretches
			   but inevitably breaks
			  into the sorrow
			    that parting makes


				To Be You

		 What is it like to be you,
		   to see life as you do
		  Can you feel the light
		    that lies behind your sight,
		   behind your eyes of green and blue

		 What thoughts fill your mind
		   to help you pass the time
		  Do you dream of pleasant things,
		    of soaring on crescent-shaped wings
		   to far away places that I might find

		 What is it like to see me,
		   to see only what you wish to see
		  If only you could show
		    the me you've come to know
		   I might learn a better me to be

		 I wish that somehow I knew
		   the dreams that you want to come true,
		  the dreams that you never tell
		    and keep deep inside yourself,
		   how I wish that I could share them too


			     Give Me Love

		  Give me love,
		    give me life and tenderness
		   for you are the bread of my soul
		     and the source of my survival

		  Touch me again,
		    caress me through the night
		   for actions forestage the emotions
		     which have brought us together again

		  Leave me reeling afar
		    in passion's resilient passing
		   as you turn away to face me
		     scattering my awareness wide

		  In the lingering afterglow
		    of our sensual facilitations,
		   feed me the true sustenance
		     of love of life and me








		    of life and truth and fate and lies


			     The Long Journey

	 I met a weary traveler
	   as the day was nearing its end
	  I asked him if he traveled far
	    but he couldn't remember from where or when

	 All that he knew was he'd been traveling
	   and come tomorrow he'd be traveling still
	  He did not know where or why he was going
	    but he knew he had a need his journey would fulfill

	 I was curious that he carried no baggage
	   so I asked him why he chose to travel so light
	  He told me he had no need of possessions
	    To keep them,  said he,  one must be prepared to fight

	 I walked with him for a short time
	   and asked if he knew when his journey would be through
	  He said that it would end where he ends
	    at that time when there is nothing more he can do

	 It grew late and I took my leave of him
	   for there were people who would soon miss me
	  I had realized while I was walking home
	    though I never travel,  I am on the same journey as he


			      The Wayfarer

	 Torn and tattered were his clothes
	   and his face,  like a well worn overgrown trail,
	  inspired polite respect with a twinge of fear
	    in the people whom he passed as his soul set sail
	   to find some wondrous place to finally rest
	     and upon that day he felt it drawing ever near

	 It was the fourteenth day of December
	   when his feet first carried him into the town
	  where he would meet the strangest of fates
	    and revel in the wake of the unseen forces that abound
	   between the reality of day and the darkness of night
	     which draw one unknowingly into the eeriest of states

	 In an little old inn on the edge of town
	   the wayfarer stopped for warmth and a drink
	  but this was no ordinary inn as he soon found out
	    for the innkeeper had devious eyes which would wink
	   whenever the wayfarer thought something was strange
	     and the walls themselves seemed to scream or shout

	 Intrigued by the strangeness of the place
	   the daring traveler decided to stay the night
	  but after making a quick check of his room
	    his eyes caught flash of a hideous sight
	   of a wolf standing bloodied over a mutilated body
	     and when the brief vision ended, he felt impending doom

	 Hurriedly,  he splashed his face wet 
	   in a water basin at the end of the hall,
	  his heart racing at the marvel he had seen
	    driving him to take some action or to call
	   for help from some sorcerer,  demon,  or god
	     to help him vanquish this terrible dream

	 Once again in the inn's tavern
	   he instead chose food to regain his composition
	  for he felt that he would need all his senses
	    to do battle with the demonic apparition
	   that lay waiting for him in his room
	     yet also in some other world behind unseen fences

	 He felt its presence even then
	   as he ate in an attempt to gain strength,
	  he felt it chiding to him to run while he could
	    but he did not listen to it at any length,
	   just long enough to know it was still there
	     and that if it could destroy him it surely would

	 The man at the bar let out a laugh
	   that sounded as deranged as its meaning was obscure
	  but before he left the room in a frenzied delight
	    he had pointed to the wayfarer sitting demure
	   and said nothing though the meaning became clear
	     in that he was a fool for not feeling proper fright

	 Alone in the room of the wolf
	   he sat expectantly upon a wooden chair
	  and with his gun at his side and knife in hand
	    he waited for something or someone to be there
	   but though the feeling grew ever more intense
	     nothing appeared that he could see or understand

	 Soon he began to grow tired
	   yet the more that he gave into this tide
	  the more invigorated he felt himself become
	    until he lay wide awake on the other side
	   where the wolf lay waiting in a field of green
	     and the light of the moon was now the sun

	 He stood up and gave chase to the wolf
	   although he was no longer certain why
	  for this world was certainly not like his own
	    as it had orange plants and a bright pink sky
	   and as he grew nearer to the fleeing wolf
	     he realized it was unlike any he had known

	 The ominous hatred and venomance
	   which he had sensed back at the inn
	  no longer was present in this strange new place
	    though still he felt driven to purge this sin,
	   this horrible abomination incarnate in the wolf
	     seeming so near that he could sense its foul taste

	 Then the wolf grew tired at last
	   and turned to face the wayfarer's approach
	  yet it did not show any sign of fear
	    nor did it turn hostile when he drew close,
	   instead it quietly awaited its impending fate
	     as the hunter flung himself at it like a spear

	 The wayfarer's confusion grew still
	   when the wolf seemed to vanish in the air
	  but the feelings still had hold of him
	    and as he fled across the plains in despair
	   he noticed that his body had disappeared
	     while he ran within the wolf's own skin

	 Over the next hill he came across a man
	   whom he vaguely noticed was himself
	  and as the man began to shudder back
	    the man-wolf felt the fear rise in itself
	   growing stronger until both were one
	     at the moment its teeth gnashed open his neck

	 Screaming,  the man was again in the room
	   far too shaken to think of anything's meaning
	  as he packed his things and hurried away
	    into the darkness of that fateful evening
	   when worlds collided for one man never known
	     except for the footprints in the snow never shown


			   The Executioner

		The moment of truth appeared
		  within the blink of an eye
		 as I solemnly raised my gun
		   before my quavering victim

		The Executioner of Justice
		  is the name I chose long ago
		 and that far off day gone by
		   is suddenly thrust before my eyes

		Was it my passion for life
		  or some perverse taste for death
		 that made me love the work
		   which came to dominate my life

		This kill will not come easy
		  and this face before me
		 shall not be quietly put to rest
		   in my tortured silent nights

		This time I cannot believe
		  that this tragedy is just
		 and the innocent eyes before me
		   reflect the truth of my task

		Countless times before I could have questioned
		  but instead I chose to remain ignorant
		 of the manipulations of the halls of justice
		   that determine who shall live or die

		This time it was too blatant,
		  an example to be made,
		 a statement of brutal blindness
		   to keep the rank and file in line

		Right and wrong are dissolving
		  in my long inactive mind
		 and the fresh wind that blows
		   is filled with condemnation

		My hand begins to violently shake
		  and the gun grows heavy within
		 as if the weight of my deeds
		   are now alive in my instrument of death

		An explosive turmoil erupts within
		  as I am faced with countless questions
		 of life and truth and fate and lies
		   and of my own inevitable demise

		The forces ripping me apart are great
		  but the solution is so near and easy
		 and in an instant later it is over
		   as the echoes of the shot die in the air

		My eyes grow dim and my heart heavy
		  as I watch the body hit the floor
		 and I convince myself I will survive
		   the haunting truth my soul had seen


			  Cauldron of Fontaine

	      In medieval days of nightmarish lore
		when the unspeakable occurred
	       far too often for any to keep score
		 there was a abomination vested
		upon a town which knows no fame
		  save for being the birthplace
		 of the Cauldron of Fontaine

	      Made from the iron of thirty swords
		that took the souls of scores of men
	       the blackened pot would feed the hoards
		 of those who served the darkness
		and reveled in the terror vexed upon Man,
		  taking great pleasure from each atrocity
		 their demonic leader would command

	      The deeds of this troupe defy telling
		without disturbing the sensibilities
	       of those who find righteousness compelling
		 so it should suffice for me to say
		that the results of their debauchery boiled
		  in an evil mixture in that cauldron
		 as the dignity of humanity was forever soiled

	      The village once known as Fontaine
		was peaceful before those days,
	       before the devil called Raven came
		 in a firestorm of reckless abandon
		asking for followers to seize the day,
		  to profit from the confusion,
		 to take all and make heaven pay

	      In desperate times such as these
		men were all too willing
	       to follow one who did as he pleased
		 fearing neither the wrath of God
		nor the formidable armies of kings
		  that were heralding forth another age
		 for which chivalry valiantly sings

	      Twisted was Raven's maniacal mind
		bent upon a life everlasting
	       and so unrelenting was he to find
		 the key to achieving this hopeless dream
		that he dared leave no stone unturned
		  until immortality was his prize
		 and its secrets were at last learned

	      Fools always follow where greed leads
		and in those days of long ago
	       that road was known as alchemy,
		 where science and mysticism joined
		and produced a mutated child
		  which died attempting to tame
		 a world where blind instinct ran wild

	      Raven was convinced that this was the way
		that he could at last be immortal
	       and forever postpone his judgment day
		 so the dreaded cauldron was conceived
		to concoct that elixir of eternal life
		  made from the fluids of life and death
		 taken ceremoniously with a lethal knife

	      Blood flowed endlessly for years hence
		as more villagers became convinced
	       that the Angel of Death could now be fenced
		 leaving them free to live lives of lust
		without fear of any final hereafter
		  until one by one they all met the blade
		 to the tune of Raven's menacing laughter

	      Decrepit and fast turning gray,
		Raven realized his failure far too late
	       as he too lived to see the day
		 when he was chosen as a sacrifice
		to feed the younger who gained claim
		  upon his legacy of unbridled brutality
		 justly giving him taste of the same

	      Though they all now wear death's chains,
		as a monument to those dark days
	       an undistinguished black pot still remains
		 for on a museum shelf behind a glass case
		sits the Cauldron of Fontaine
		  as a relic from another world
		 achieving Raven's pitiful aim


			      Once A King

	  "I am King!",  I bellow until the sound echoes
	    off the somber castle walls
	   Filled to the brim with wine and self-adoneration
	     I stumble away in search of a bed

	  The music of lutes plays somewhere off
	    beyond my blurred candlelit vision
	   Behind the merriment and muse lie the whispered treasons
	     of the endless plotting for my throne

	  Surrounded by guards,  I pause to relieve myself
	    of the evenings excessive liquids
	   Quickly the dampness, cold like death, encompasses
	     every pore of my regal being

	  In a cathedral-sized room covered with fine tapestries
	    I pass out upon a silken bed
	   Soon however,  I am abruptly awakened
	     by the feel of cold steel on my brow

	  Alone and in a drunken stupor I face my opponent
	    knowing full well the futility of a plea
	   Young and foolish,  and every bit as arrogant as me
	     he savors the taste of the kill

	  In an act of desperation I grab at his knife
	    but soon it is free,  then in my stomach
	   As I lay helplessly dying within my fortress
	     I know security is but a dream








			 to make a sound or stir


			  Contemplating Freedom

     Wondering where wistfulness went
	 my mind briefly yet sagaciously moves
	to a time when I thought not of myself
	  before doing and maybe,  before being
	 letting not preconception deny experience

     Why is it now inconceivable to me
	 to stand naked on the roof beneath the stars,
	to run gaily through the feilds rolling with life
	  and not think myself an ass for loving life
	 so much as to engage in harmless foolish fun

     Where what becomes what for and why not why
	 is where who I have come to be has since lost me
	in the trees whose protective leaves let no one see
	  the boy inside the man,  the girl behind the woman,
	 loving what little sponataity we're still graciously allowed

     The constraints are mine to have or have not
	 and respect the invisible instigation to keep hold,
	to keep in check that urge to burst out laughing
	  whenever we feel we've stepped into the absurd
	 yet absurdity lies at the heart of all around us
	   only now sorrow has replaced the joy


			  Fears of finding out

	    Fear drives one away from the mirror,
	      fear of looking too deeply at bare facts
	     fate has dealt under pain of death,
	       fear of seeing what lies beneath us
	      is only fear of seeing nothing at all

	    Catch a glimpse of yourself
	      as you hurry off to nothing important
	     and you struggle to gather worthless items
	       valued only by those who feel incomplete
	      insatiably grabbing all anyone else wants

	    Fears of not having what others have,
	      fear of not gaining what is prized most,
	     this is what ascribes the dictates of beings
	       who hoard everything to feel they have something
	      other than the emptiness which devours their souls

	    Fighting the listlessness contriteness makes
	      we strike back by attacking those we know
	     who share the same circumstances we endure cowardly
	       yet they have the gall to appear contented
	      so we destroy them to destroy ourselves


			      The Haunting

		 As I gaze at the reflections
		   dancing across the surface
		  of one of nature's many shallow pools,
		    I feel as though I am looking
		   at the ghosts from another time

		 At the touch of my hand they scatter
		   only to once again reappear
		  as the waves slowly begin to quell
		    and they reveal to me their stories
		   for they know I need to hear them

		 But these faces that do haunt me
		   are not of strangers of long ago
		  nor are their tales unfamiliar
		    for they are the different ages of me
		   and their dreams that did not survive

		 They are in pools of rain and window panes
		   and they will follow wherever I go
		  until the day when I take them back
		    if ever I decide to again be whole
		   and no longer bar them from my soul


			    I cannot see me

	      I cannot see me
		I can stare into a mirror
		  but only a stranger stares me back
		 sharing a face like mine
		yet isn't me

	      I cannot hear me
		when I speak of what I believe
		  trying my damnedest to make a sound or stir
		 to break the grip of fates upon me
		or the silence of eternity

	      I cannot feel me
		I cannot even feel what is me
		  body or spirit,  both always elude me
		 leaving me to wonder why only I
		am not even given me

	      I cannot know me
		I cannot know what I am or will be
		  for what I am will only be shown long hence
		 the last light these eyes shall see  
		and I,  a mere memory


			    My Mind is Free

		 My mind is free
		   and though this world
		  may damn me and cage me
		    no one shall ever destroy
		   these new horizons I see

		 Free at last
		   to roam free of fences
		  that bind all others to the past
		    out of fear to know their souls
		   and the implications awareness casts

		 Never again shall I
		   be confined by convention
		  or walk the line of socio-moral lies
		    for I have seen the open fields
		   where spontaneity needs never die

		 Enjoy your solemn walls
		   for the false security they bring
		  by closing your mind off from the calls
		    of dying ideas and crippled dreams
		   suffocating in cloistered halls


			      Once is Me

			   Once is me
			     yet I am
			    every time
			      close at hand

			   Over and under,
			     above is below
			    Neither I am,
			      neither I know

			   Yet and then,
			     both are now
			    Never was I,
			      only how

			   Once is me,
			     more is less
			    falling away
			      from the crest


			Starry-eyed and Boisterous

	    Starry-eyed and boisterous
	      I soar higher than my imagination flies
	     eagerly meeting heavenly surprises
	       before my tottering rationale and reasonings
	      are again able to catch up to me

	    Without a net I glide ever higher
	      without fear of ever again falling below
	     for fall I shall and fall I shall soon
	       as no bird or man can escape the dirt
	      which commands thee and me to return home

	    Plummeting is the only return left for me
	      as I have been away too long to long retain
	     the life of those bound to the ground
	       solid and stoid yet not without its advantages
	      such as never going beyond reaching safe returns

	    So soar I shall in my final few days
	      forever reaching after what is and isn't there
	     in the mists of clouds of mystery and wonder
	       rolling over the world that was never really mine
	      as seen from above in bewilderment and awe








			      to question why


			 Our Legacy of Lethargy

	    We live beyond our means
	      and ponder this facts significance
	     as we anesthetize ourselves upon
	       computer simulated dreams,
	      living a life of decadence
		defiantly brandishing our death song

	    We are the highest form of civilization
	      outnumbered by the rest of a dying humanity
	     that languish in shanty towns feeding off trash
	       as we grow fat in a cultural stagnation
	      that cannot confront this abominable insanity
		dealt to us by those in a long irrelevant past

	    Our toils are but few
	      yet our needs and lusts are many
	     as we feed off the carcass of morality
	       stripping bare whatever is in view,
	      killing those without even a penny
		and reveling in our own banality

	    With a cannibalistic fervent
	      we exploit the desperation of the masses
	     fighting for resources long since dried
	       by generations whose resources recklessly spent
	      always gave priority to the upper classes
		which gained ground while the rest slowly died

	    They were the ones who begot us
	      as we inherited their wealth and brutality
	     along with a wasted and worthless planet
	       that shall soon be ground into dust
	      so we earnestly accelerate this harsh reality
		and rape the few resources left without regret


				 To Wit

	    Yea,  how the tables become turned
	      by the clever ones deftly defying criticism
	     for the abuses or misuses of their powers
	       by exalting the common man who succeeded
	      in helping others near or during their rein
		thus 'proving' that goodness always flourishes
	       and those who cannot see it are blind

	    Shies,  the contemptuous praises be
	      as the praiseworthy are owed their acclamation
	     to the very perpatrators whose life long wrongs
	       they sought with their very lives to undue,
	      fated to have the enemies of their passions
		eulogize to all their struggles and erst
	       putting it in a perspective void of truth

	    Better they be not to be named or known
	      than to have their virtues so valiently to be sung
	     when hence the very meanings they bestow
	       become tangled in minds by subversive retellings
	      and having their chaste deeds done for good and all
		used to make good men doubt their own good will
	       removing aspersions aimed at more obvious targets


			    Outgrown Innocence

	Damned are they who damn us thus
	  wreaking havoc on our tranquil worlds
	 destroying the lives and the minds
	   of all those who cannot successfully oppose or accept them
	  while making us who can and do accept them
	    share the guilt of their bloody deeds

	Standing still,  looking the other way,
	  busying ourselves with our lives and children,
	 none of these things can absolve us
	   of the perpetuation of injustice and brutal viciousness
	  inherent in every facet of our 'peaceful' societies
	    for each part makes possible each attrocity

	Suvival but at what cost we wonder
	  while each day learning how high that cost climbs
	 for knowledge brings only more responsibilties
	   to be shunned if we are to continue on and prosper
	  in an ever more arid and poisonous environment
	    killing all those whose lives possess real value


			  Death of a Child

		   A child died quietly 
		     in the hollow of the night
		    A child died naturally
		      though it cannot be right
		     The child's illness was one 
		       which could easily be cured
		      The child's silent aspirations
			now shall never be heard

		   Accomplices were they
		     who did not know of his plight
		    Accomplices were they
		      who knew but averted their sight
		     Defiled are they who thought
		       helping strangers an impropriety
		      Defiled are they who honor
			such an insane society

		   Over and over again 
		     this story shall be told
		    Over and over again
		      they shall die as we grow old
		     Each time this happens 
		       we lose more of our worth
		      Each time this happens 
			we blacken the legacy of Earth


			       Automatons

    Man or machine,  that is the question
      which remains to be seen
     Shielded by uniforms,  we lash out beating and killing
       those who are our own brethren
      as we convince ourselves we have given up all rights
        to question why

    We poison and maim,  all the while believing
      we are not to blame
     Behind desks and thick glass,  we protect our jobs
       by following mindless regulations
      often hearing pleas from those that they destroy,
        sympathizing yet never helping

    Part of the system,  we fail to rise above the limits
      of its questionable wisdom
     Filling the functions of some prepackaged lives
       we lose sight of needed changes
      and by identifying ourselves with socially programmed desires,
        we become something less than human


			  The Eternal Yoke

		   Upon the backs
		     of the wretched mobs
		    we build our cities,
		      crushing them beneath
		     the treadmill of progress
		       giving to the chosen few
		      and forgiving to none

		   Tradition ever supports
		     the eternal yoke of oppression
		    leaving only the faces changed
		      backed by those slogans
		     which best fit the time or mood
		       and give the people the means
		      with which to hang themselves

		   The tide of time bears not
		     any mercy for the drowning
		    swept away by the flood
		      of relentless subjugation
		     of a race which once was free
		       before the wealthy and the learned
		      defined what freedom meant


			 Sword of the Slight

	     Outside of the mainstream
	       the ship of my soul drifts slowly away
	      cast out upon the uncharted seas
		of isolation and unmet needs,
	       cast out only for being different
		 by being deficient in an aesthetic way
		carrying a face doomed only to displease

	     No one speaks of it,
	       of my incarcerating disfigurement
	      which inevitably will draw their eyes
		as I invade the confines of the sight
	       of the people in a picture perfect world
		 grown accustomed to uniformity
		as enforced by the sword of the slight

	     They smile as they turn away
	       and say they are sorry but no,
	      they do not think that I am the right one
		to suit their needs or to be of any help
	       while continuing the unspoken catharsis
		 of the submersion of the unseemly
		who cannot by numbers defend themselves

	     Living the life of a pariah
	       is a harrowing yet illuminating way to be
	      as you see a great fear hidden safely away,
		a fear of ugliness or of imperfection
	       in people too immersed in superficiality
		 to know or care deeply for the minds within
		and blind to prejudice's subtlest manifestation


			 Conscientious Objectors

	       I care not for your battles
		 against ignorance, injustice, or Man
		Leave your wars outside my doorstep
		  for I disdain the ideals you command

	       It is not for me to make the world
		 fit any notions that I conceive it should be
		freedom needs not to be fought for
		  nor can it be won by you for me

	       All shall always do as they see fit
		 and nothing for me is the best choice
		I seek not to encumber or enlighten
		  nor to exaggerate the import of my voice

	       Those who seek to emancipate all
		 instead come to enslave as a consequence
		To force any agendas through intimidation
		  is to doom its intents to irrelevance

	       So waste not your inscenuous words on me
		 for I have outgrown need to promulgate airs
		I limit my ambitions to only myself
		  and I leave others be to cultivate theirs








		      the indomitable straits of time


			     Motions Passing

		    Motions passing,  no one's asking
		      how it all could be
		     Days ending,  new ones pending
		       flowing eternally

		    Onward time,  leaving all behind
		      never letting them be known
		     Only facts,  leaving no tracks
		       except visions once shown

		    Empty places,  last embraces
		      wanting to stay real
		     Everything cries,  its disguise
		       breaks with fate's last seal


			      Eclipsed

	       The motions of the universe,
		 so damningly precise and congruent
		mark the seasons of my life
		  upon an eternal timepiece
		 created by the spinnings of stars
		   and mimiced by our watches gears

	       But what of me,  I shout
		 letting my frustrations spill out
		to become absorbed by the blackness
		  of the peaceful autumn sky
		 which never breaks its stony silence
		   to comfort or admonish me

	       Left to wonder or to die
		 by divine providence or cruelty
		I stand alone too empty to cry
		  for everyone and for myself
		 fated to be kept from understanding
		   the purpose behind their pains

	       In conquest or perhaps resignation
		 I tune out the vastness before me
		as I slip further into unconsciousness
		  falling asleep under a cloudless sky
		 for the indomitable straits of time bind
		   enough to destroy my hopes of understanding


			    Momentous Moments

		   Realizations so elusive
		     as to be separated by many years
		    stand apart from the doldrums
		      and ritual interpersonal actions
		     rising foremost in our minds
		       upon regarding the self

		   Pivotal decisions of worth
		     or comprehensions of purpose
		    count the most within our hearts
		      breeding the colors which taint
		     the world with our perceptions
		       making appearances real

		   Momentous moments of life
		     sandwiched deep within the shuffle
		    force us out of our complacencies
		      of acceptance and limit our joy
		     of partaking in the festiveness
		       before providing the feast


			  Moments of Repatriation

	      There comes a time in everyone's lives
		when we cease to press on forward
	       and then pause to take our bearing
		 on where we are or where we are going

	      The motions of the universe appear to halt
		and our very existences seem to hang in limbo
	       while our minds take stock of our intentions
		 and compare them with our lives thus far

	      Out of the world and deep within ourselves
		we weigh the benefits and risks of returning
	       yet we gain precious momentum by confronting
		 the true desires we have for our lives

	      As suddenly as it stopped,  life starts again
		and the wheels of the world again turn
	       pushing us on towards our destinations
		 somewhat wiser and more self-aware


			     In Unison

     We remember things which have never been
       if we live long enough to see life repeat again
      thus shattering our illusions of perpetual freshness
	in that a limitless number of nows are begun
       as we pass from one to another just begun
	 only to find that both ring out in unison

     Infinity is finite and randomness predictable,
       for just as the mind finds the unknowable irresistible
      we break the facade of the indefinitive world
	merely by using the means of our memories
       to eventually come to see that spacious duplication is the key
	 masking the underlying yet undeniable uniformity

     Originality is but a hopeless and arrogant dream
       as countless lives verbatim repeat the scenes
      that we dare to call our own and hold dear
	for that which is us is merely a stone
       randomly thrown and standing alone
	 yet existing nowhere to be known


			        Prismic

	 An indomitable ray of hope and fulfillment
	   passes through the prism of time
	  spreading wide a multitude of individualizations
	    painting the mural of life in its prime

	 Colors which are pleasing to the heart
	   stand contrasting and complementing those that unnerve
	  for each part's beauty never seeks to overpower
	    the incomprehensibly vast mosaic they serve

	 Images of all that we know of or dream
	   float fancifully reflected in a panorama of space
	  playing nightly to a captive audience unseen
	    trying their best to savor a feast they cannot taste

	 The brilliance of the light cannot be known
	   as it far surpasses that which can be seen
	  and the mysterious refractor defies definitions,
	    not to diminish the wondrous pictures that gleam


			       Waiting

	Waiting for the perfect moment
	 when all of the stars align
	  and rapture lies only just behind
	   that moment creeping up slowly
	    from the soul up into the mind

	Waiting while thousands pass
	 before you though you are blind
	  seeing only what is yet to come,
	   seeing only that some-other time
	    which you might never live to find

	Waiting while wondering why
	 you wait to live but not to die
	  leaving all of the living left behind
	   walking through today seeing only tomorrow
	    with yesterday's dreams still driving your eyes

	Waiting without even knowing
	 or knowing but not caring,  you die
	  each day a thousand deaths,  a thousand lies
	   for perfection lay in each hour,  each minute
	    with only your conception of it to give it its disguise


			       Tomorrow

	   Tomorrow I shall awake
	    to the dawn of a brand new day
	    unseen,  unknown to any who live today
	     and think and dream and believe
	    that they know what with it will come or may
	     as I too asleep to it still yet hail its new way
	    and dare embrace,  to touch,  to taste
	     in haste that which casts today away
	    for the sake of forsaking this day that stays
	     too long making me gaze longingly at unseen days
	    and praise that which may bring only greater pains,
	     to chance to lose,  yes,  but to chance to gain,
	    is twice but chance to lose more of the same








			     on into the sunset


			    The Dark Horse

		  Built like a mighty fortress,
		    the dark horse rides asunder
		   with its giant hooves
		     tearing up the ground,
		    making sounds like rolling thunder

		  Relentlessly it surges forth
		    like a vengeful demon of the night
		   making all bear witness
		     to its unbridled fury
		    and its overwhelming sense of might

		  Bound by the truth of existence
		    and binded to an earth dominated by Man,
		   it searches for escape
		     the only way that it knows,
		    by running as far and as fast as it can

		  Running to every corner of the land,
		    one and all will sometimes hear it
		   as it thunders past
		     seeking limitless pastures
		    and freedom for its restless spirit


			       Excelsior

      One by one I shall cut the ties
        which will bind me to the ground
       and I shall feel the pull of the heavens
         begging me to rise forth and come hither

      I shall sit in the comfort of my airship
        and watch the world fall beneath my feet
       while setting my gaze upon a far larger world
         whereupon the distant and unrelated become one

      As I look down from my celestial throne
        and revel at the expansiveness of my new sight
       I shall carry with me the hopes of the spoiled and the damned,
         as they bow before me longing to be set free

      Over boarders and barriers I shall drift away
        in my craft crowned by heat and golden sunlight
       and as countries and continents fade to a distant blur
         I shall learn true freedom at the mercy of destiny's winds


			     Crystal Castles

		    I live beneath
		      crystal castles in the sky
		     Castles waiting for me
		       until the day when I can fly

		    They are beautiful,
		      too beautiful to be seen
		     Instead you feel them
		       in your heart and in your dreams

		    Castles of wonder
		      too magnificent to describe
		     With towers of hope
		       to make your soul come alive

		    They fly high above us
		      yet they are always in our reach
		     Only love can take us there,
		       love we can learn but never teach


			        Lexicon

	   Everyone anxiously jumps upon
	     an antique train called Lexicon
	    riding forth steadily toward the sun
	      carrying all and sparing no one

	   Out from the multitude of paths
	     it surges forth leaving all else past
	    accommodating all wherever they need go
	      and showing them places only others know

	   Those who are hurried share space
	     with those who care not for a frantic pace
	    as they sit together riding the same line,
	      both reaching their destinations on time

	   It brings together all and lets them share
	     each other's truths and each other's cares
	    as they enjoy the ride in comfort and style
	      becoming closer with each passing mile

	   On into the sunset Lexicon rides
	     and at each stop its prominence presides
	    as each young generation climbs on board
	      eager to know the perspectives it moves them towards