Animal's House of Muse

Vibes to Feed the Hasty Soul with the States of All that Matters

Month: July, 2016

Beams Meant to Bridge

Yeah, that’s right
I have nerves of steel
And I would know
I’ve been bludgeoned by them
I’m not sure if my delusions
Are caused by a chemical imbalance
Or just such a critical hit to my gut
But I’m not fully convinced
Those aren’t metal shards
Floating about my vomit


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Not a Wynken, Not a Blynken; Just a Nod

Sup? I see you over there, confusion; with your amorph-ious blorph-ious, grey as a corpse-ious, subliminally imposition-ing, ugly-ass self. How you slipped in here, I don’t know. Why you’re even here, I don’t know. And how you’ll fit your totality into this tiny space, already filled to the brim with books and drums for dayzzz; again, I don’t know. But I don’t even give a shit that I don’t know jack shit ‘bout your intentional innards, or outards, or whatever the ard it is your substance possesses. I’m not your property. And I won’t reward your behavior with any significant attention. Eventually you’ll get bored and leave me be. Then I’ll clean up your residual slime, though I didn’t even cause it; and like-brand-new clarity will spritz itself from my bottle of Febreze, refreshing the stank you so graciously bestowed my personal space by your presence. Your kind, though weighty, are but triflin’ fools. Trifle away, bud. Trifle away.


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6. And She Grew Her Wings Anew

There’s just some-thing about the Realm of Chaos. It beckons me to no End. Hidden in its nonsense; secrets which excite my mind with such vigor as to compel its primal impulse to traverse beyond its Heavenly Fence, through complex topologies; manifolds of time no metronome can keep. To find in its tangles, for but the brief origin of a moment, a pure, untouched dimension worth savoring for all of eternity, merits the pain of its dissolution, and values the toll it takes in exchange on my body. I am worn, for having been submerged time and time again. But I believe myself ready to forge a home amidst the confusion of it all, once and for all; as All is all I seek. Seven times survived, I’ve earned a place to keep. And keep it well, I shall. A haven of measure, my name above its door- the symbol of an Animal, wild and free; humble servant of the Field of Mysteries, whose duty it is to till with strong will, un-coerced. My Love; My Friend; My Spirit; My Muse, we shall live in the Heart of the Matter, so that all matters- tried and true, new and blue- we may attend. Our work our own to cut out, let the Writing Writer tell on this page that a novel idea churns in its Crowing. Dear Ambellina, what awaits us next?



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