Riano Harp

Beliefs, -
I loosen my self from the high throne of visions,
Never to believe -a pronoun of belief- that it's much easier to be like that. There's a problem, all thoughts lead (the title is the estroise I will look at)to the sustenance of belief and mastery. Trust has layers, the transaction waits to be poached.
The words are belief and I have been deceived by the limits of faith, the path is constant - meditation is the microscope to infinity, I am in an infantile stage - lost in faith, I must trust what I don't understand and wash its vibrations. I can only tell my mother I love her as love is the resonance of all things, I am discovering the reason and truth behind these new urges of conventions that resist silk attires and search for watery alternatives, drenched in my miscommunication of nature for the future is apparent within itself-, it is the foundations for why I react - the strands of inspiration and expectancy, a fault is construded and love is the familiarity. The love used to track sunsets is the fault of my step — I will inspect the microscope for a disease in constancy.
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Unprofitable death, stable intentions;
A transparent Earth -unstarven beauty-
Matched in normality as a mole in the galaxy;
Paupers relax in lactose vines and amylum silk,
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A dartling dove, drunken love
How sheepish my prime youth was;
Stumbling in faucet burns and viridescent playbells
MY mind was sent on French dirt.
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The adolescent in robes of Jamaican lude,
Strip him! Strip him!
Futility reigns, the heavens beckon
For their lost creature of beguile.
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My mind is a withering concept,
Ideals are as real as breath;
Words are pale bodies that carry all thought and typical refuge
Of heartlessness - I despise myself.
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The Crow's flight to freedom
Was an impetuous attempt:
Defiled and cut by reason
He landed on crooked contempt.
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Beyond the cusp of man's eternal bough,
On that curving lens where all women sow,
Hangs the Man, imbued with vines, with our brow
And dripping yolk, frowning before the glow
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I

I have reversed myself to the most basic form of man's lament
And secrete in the bitter cusp of a child's torment, thought to be
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Puddles of tin, rains of lead
Flowers harden to plates
Of silver, gold, white and red,
All embellished in their states
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Littering the perfumes of her ethanol dress upon memories
The concrete elongations melted upon my genuflecting knees,
Niobe's sulpher scarred the green grins of the fleshy aquarium —
Dancing as smoke in the crowds thoughts, sorrow's anchors of the cranium
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Each cavity of this Earth-blown flesh
Defiled by the cheap ventriloquist
Erodes to posterity's swamps of acid light,
Crystallising to phosphorous petals
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O' you flowing Muse of transparency!
Entwined within exaltation's summit
Eclipsing, from throats, vales of poesy
For the will of a galloping Hermit
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When I closed my eyes in the cocoon
And made faith of inclinations tune,
Carved fear as God to a natural sense
And thought shallow of my Mind's immense,
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The sulking God's tongue, a pink bed of sea-rock,
Masts flesh prayers delighting bitterness to taste.
Morgues of wind drape white knuckles parching the dock,
Sands and dust spit from ribbed pillars of paste
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In these rhymes, concrete molluscs of the sea
Erect in ancient bowels of symmetry
The dissected Butterfly as a town;
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My Lie of Love

I scoop sunlight into pillows,
Abandoning sleep to fill the holes
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After awakening from a sleep
The loneliness of God scorched my eyes,
Grains of light distilled violet-petals
To steams and liquids with thorny stems,
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The Universe is a joke!
All layers, all forms
Bear the infinite spoke
Of the flesh's dreams;
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I am the last of my kind,
The first of a new species.
Somewhere along the way,
Past hardened fruits ladened
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THE SIEGE OF FULDORK FORT

'Appraisal to footprints erasing mud,
Orchestrating strings amongst muted winds,
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