Tongues of lavender lungs
Hooves clicking roofs
Rotating ringlets from spittle to sap
Molecules mingle from necks to trunks
Compounds make up gateways
From days to maps
Sweating and bleeding
Beading embossed fluids to amber
As the years pass
Glass chips chisel the tip
Respect with cornered recording lenses
Wrestle over change
Teeth chomping solid into liquid digestion
Displayed friction frayed fundamentals of fitting in
Raised questions

One embrace dissolved all doubt
Learned angles
Lean with cords
Tap tap tapping black and white displays
On the window to our world of color
Enter out under awnings
Holding hands
Facing faces
And full belly�s for a freedom of speck and a freedom
to eat
Fond pools centering our feet as the sky drools
Giddy respects moistening our corners as our hearts
and heads connect
Verbalizing thought synapses
Stretching healing across the mental lines between
ocean and sky

So the stars can rise
and the tides can shine
relaying infinity through forms of space
rain drips licks mist
gathering for gravity to sip from our upened cheeks
through our exposed teeth
both smiles compiled communicate elephants elevated
above doors
and through all elements

this is love breathing
this is love raw and full
this is love in the form of spaghetti lungs
this is love developed and stemming new seeds of
potential
this is love alive
this is love wet with storm sighs and sprinkles
this is love met fireflys and imprinted skulls
this is love blatantly subtle

To awaken those in their graves
To awaken those in their graves
To awaken those in their graves

Stars sprinkle the sky like sand lined ocean galaxies
color the cosmos
Surrendering salt to spiral coasts wearing dream coats
Planetary bling-beams of hope
Shedding shared paired layers of sulfer sediment under
persipitory cloaks
Cusping candles melt molds over granite shamples
Cohesive coorispondances dances flame flickering
shapes
Aspiring to perspiration in rains origin

To awaken those in their graves
To awaken those in their graves
To awaken those in their graves
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
BIRTH of TELEVISION

There was once a robot named Johnny boy void clock
He was birthed out of a television screen�
Named Paotis Tele-vicous
And she had hit cement bottom when her family beat her
For complications due to intercepted signals causing states of static
During the third sitcom of pregnancy.
She was left screen down on Shotwell.
And well she had a good shot at swelling up with infant fecies
If she didn�t spread her shit to the world that was receptive to hearing it.
She was dragged to 16th and Mission where atop a newspaper stand
She was assisted in birthing boy void clock
who came out in strands for glands
Wires and fans for ligaments and hands
He had been hurt in the womb
And already had a bloody band-aid on his knee
Before he was pulled out of Miss. Telivicious�s screen.
He had a motherboard for a chest
A tiny light bulb for a head
Johnny was immediately taken to the corner
And hung below the walk, no walk signal,
And a handless clock
Mother watched the people walk by
Indifferent
ignoring her broken belly.
The same people gave her endless hours of empty gazes.
Now shattered, she didn�t faze them.
Except for a certain kid that had an odd spark about his sight,
She had never seen him zoning at her zombie crook waves.
He stopped in the paved maze,
And took out his tonic pens
And atop drawn waves
He wrote the words
�Death to TV saves�.
She then knew by giving birth
Bursting her inner works
Johnny boy void clock had broken her box frame
That kept everyone�s mind states in the same stagnant stench.
She sat thoughtful on the bubbling bench,
And realized a thirst she had never had
Had just been clenched.
And her Son Johnny boy void clock
Would never wind minds around wires of time
He would bring about awareness
To those broken by the click click switch of
Her TV. state switch.
Once people saw what grew on the inside,
Attention would be brought to the clock
Eyes would search for arms of seconds
And minutes to thoughts nevermore diminished.
Where is the hand
Where is the arm
What time
What harm.
The spawn of machine has been hung
The child of television is done.
Oh wow!
Now the hours are ours