God
Pocked and pored manywise an Australian face
The volcanic rock we stole
From a Vesivian crevice
died like a molten bird
in the cusp of the palm of mother earth
many are the varigated canaries that have sung and gone
but we have been here since the first fall of dust
and our unified song like larkfall of a spring morning
coagulated into god
manyways the graphics of our telepathy
linked unconscious minds that one to many gave the
lordhead what we strive and lure for in intelligence
and mayways the bonding gave us communion and its power
disponsible to other limbs and vestigial eyes that coronet
and empathise the earth
you oh great one
came to understand the
verity of the supernove and its catalogue of building
so the bullion of knowledge hoarding greater than the tiny specs
that make its every corpus grow
it growls and winds like subteranean
channels in which the magma of volcanoes flow
until it free is coursing down the slope
away from sub human telepathies
so our mysteries are now hidden from the subcanal subtle minds
pocked and pored your variegated mind would like to hold its thumb
against the nimbus of expanding stuff
and cease forever the cycle of old natures rim
and thrumb upon the divination table
forever in the moulding world of ever statics
and in the lapid waters of the everchanging stone
i see us biding dying not from illness
but a sickness of the vapid mind
a slow and boring yawning slowly sleeping death
like vases on a mantlepeice
and sad vesuvian magma there between