Vaporizing Dreams

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Oxen of the Sun 400

I am always misshapen by my transgressions
In the instance of excellence I am ejected
From the profession of deity
But then I am repaired
Indeed full of extravagance
And middle knowing
The low design is not glorious but
It does contain the seeds of happiness
Collected with some hasty sentiment,
witnesses murmur as the heart ripens
With age and language
Holding it’s scrupulous breath
The honor of malice -
The horror of design makes this creation momentous
I speak to my own skull
And allot the color of spirit.


Oxen of the Sun 401

The genius of motion is the
Notion of expectancy of
insolvency lost of frigid spirit
The fault of our pain is
finding in precaution
We request proof of our existence
We hold ourselves in stillness
We forbid mercy for our being
The word of readiness bursts the child
It rises in glory clapping Hallelujah Hallelujah
Timing for emphasis and rejoicing in the cold
Air of occasional holiness
We have lost all our judgers
Intercepting their intolerance with the
Ordeal of ascendancy
Our opinions will slice us
Unless we rise.