untitled (former working title: true music)
as if one have
all the value judgements
in this—
tribulation period,
if only wind
instruments were
invented to share
a message, —
would souls
truly speak
in the present moment?
time & its insignificance
like metanoia
—a paradigm shift—
suddenly, anxiety
changing one's drift
from kabbalah
to phonetics
linguistics, semantics
hermeneutics of the Torah
from ancient
to the renaissance
what more can
one presage?
neither—
if a believer
prays to a false God
[of an othered religion]
permitted but
wronged sainthood
senile syllogisms & oblivion
summery peradventures
scorching heat out there
bakes you, unhappy skin cells
—a type of music
in the garden, in the nighttime
(formerly 'slipping away in the garden in the nighttime', with Old English, Dutch, and Germanic influence)
the leaves play their roles
they change colors, giving shade,
raindrops—welled up tears
consensus of hyssops
don't interpret me,
language of false complaisance;
for we are humans
whether you like me or not,
to say you do is just fake—
Preacher
—Truly righteous. But...
No better than a mystic
Ah, divine nature...
Orchestrated Flowers
There are fake people
in terms of situations,
and the way they live