most times I feel weight in Lines
assuredly the curves have become Blind
action to action day to day time to time
taken inside the cold cube to find
locally sourced minds that open to Play
means to Ends that split and splay
the truth of Matter is gathered in Waves
most Hosts in Fact are intact in Clay
and here we go and hear me Out
so the Seams and stitch the Sounds
the filtered crowds are splintered thru towns
restrictions are inflictions to Personal Power
on top of the World Beneath the Beast
gathering Souls for the Final Feast
is a shattered mirror of magical myst
devilishly reveling in Binary Bliss
pointed. Mirror. Peripheral to this Spirit of Fear
Charleen Johnston 8-5-20
First word in each line, came from my friend Johnny Frechette in a facebook post