Its still to early to tell if the man was just a myth,

or was he really strong enough?

Leaving it up to the elders who left it up with to proud of,

On top of the mountain tops you do not see your feet,

you see the wings of eagles,

see the dreams of just your heart,

you realize when alone,

your not that lonely at all.

Past the plateaus of your dreams,

there are streams that dance in the breeze,

looking for something to grab a hold off,

only to find the fall...

He found himself it was a late afternoon,

she walked in,

wearing his heart on her lips,

giving him presents just in her presence...

he found himself adrift,

a time before,

the wind blew in all directions,

voices echo across the sea,

not sure which one to follow,

or even which one was his own...

He tried to grab a hold of the moment,

when he woke up,

only to plant his feet into the water in the sea,

falling into the depth of the lonely,

only to rise again as the sun,

to warm the shores of the gold sands,

where all the elders seem to have lived there dreams,

weighing there idea's on a scale balancing it with the golden treasures of there past time...

What is left of the crescent?

I saw it break upon the beak where the condor was tied down upon the tracks of fools,

telling them again with a coo coo of the truth,

the point of view of you was chosen by the vengeance of the serpent,

who was left with empty promises of wooden horses,

so now they murder the past with the Evanescence of a dusty crescent,

across the neck of a raptor that fell for the trap,

a sin found within the deepest valley...



Enjoy..

I found myself on a mountain cliff in the snow,
I was at a high elevation bellow the southern dreams of our soul,
each time I closed my eyes I could see all of Man's disgrace,
making my heart beat miss a tone and leave me with a pain of disdain,
as I gasp for breath,
I cannot climb any higher, and the feats of height do not recon with the altitude to hold the winds still,
man's heart will not sit still,
it is our curse,
our pain,
its the moment man realize's we are cursed,
we truly see the sun,
or the son of truth,
when we kneel down to kiss the ground,
only to feel the cold touch of mud,
after a storm that torn down the steeples that were suppose to touch the sound of MAN!!

Yet I have not forgotten,
nor left the hymns,
to be sang by the lost songs of the apostles...

You are alone,
and cold,
in a darkness,
where even the bold will not use their hands to find,
tether yourself to my mind,
and find a beast past the fog of a sea,
just born,
put your ear to the shells to hear the sea,
you just may hear my face,
or see my space,
where my castle towers hold the tomes of truth,
and my gargoyles stare into eternal space...

Yet be sure to count you cards,
and cut your heart out and replace it with the stones of pain,
even then the sight of my eyes,
may not prevent you cutting down your dreams,
with you hitting the ground...











enjoy..

when looking in a mirror,
most men become blind to the fine lines,
there heads become to strong,
there sight gets numb,
they only see the ghosts of there Father's dead..

As there belly's get wide they feel less strong,
and supplement there insecurity's with there sins,
only to die where they lie,
leaving behind,
another disgrace,
or a shape that is left to waste,
comprehension is never achieved with the lazy man, with the wide belly,
for it is work,
the lazy man has a EGO that is contoured and shaped with the grace of a Michelangelo sculpture,
she may not even cry when your love fades away, and I will watch the snow filled hearts blow away her thoughts, when you forget where to find her, I will be in the way making sure her loves fades away..

Draw on my pain,
find the twilight,
realize you are not the man you thought,
when you find yourself crawling on your belly,
speak to your grace,
in the contours of her face,
you see my relics,
misplaced...

Find the tear,
Yes, oh yes when the sun goes down,
find that broken pear tree,
seal your fate,
as you try to save the leaves,
making them another green,
pull out your mandolin,
and sing about sin,
get cold again,
and I feed on your soul,
most men at your age have chosen their home,
escape at least one hour, when its at its steep....

Let your babies cry,
it keeps the Earth bellow my feet,
let me sweat so I can weaken our blood,
keeping your feet in place,
giving all of the time to Saul,
as the mortals got lost in the ivy..