Wheel In The Sky…

awaken, to what so few know…
forever, a war, an expected part of life…
Like the sun and moon and gloom, the wars, the forever wars…
a skirmish that burns with placation,
sedates the mind and keeps the plebes busy,
with there own impending death.
to please the needs of the gods,
to hide in plain sight
men, women and children die,
hate the ammo, incessant,
love the cure, forgotten,
truth…lost
in the seeds of hate sown by the gods
anger simmers like flames licking near spilled fuel,
asleep…
waiting in the darkness of their dreams, until the dreams slipped away
skirting the edge of reality,
waiting to burst and consume life…
they are gods…
who live in the clouds…in the ring
do you believe, Moab?
I want to, but I have doubts, other beliefs to consider
or not all, they are not…
there is only what the gods want who speak to us…
and speak no other
eyes raised to the heavens,
home of the gods who speak
in creeks and craw of divine indigestion
to eat the morsels who run in fear
their bolts of lightening lap the earth
to scoop the plebes resting like crumbs
on a plate of left overs
I can see the divine lights of their existence,
and you shouldn’t…
do you know the lights are of their existence?
I look when they turn them on,
then you should turn away…
and they should turn them off, shouldn’t they?
close my eyes to the truth?
open your eyes, clear your ears and speak only when they speak to you…
I want to go there, to see what they see,
Never
To hear what they hear
Never
To know what they know
And be what they are?
You understand…
No, I do not, I fear what you wish, to imagine what you do…
Don’t you wish…
I do not!
Open your mind!
Closed please…do you want to be what they are?
What are they?
Gods, they are gods that you are not.
They answer to no one but themselves.
Where are you going.
Concert.
Who?
The Mullets…
Where?
The Blue Sky…
If ever…
Nice to dream…
Catherine, the sounds…
Moab, the sounds?
Do you hear them?
Yes, but not often only…
When the gods summon their dragons to come for what they need.
I hear them all the time,
Do you, why?
I see their divine light flicker from above the clouds…
The sounds quickly follow…
Don’t go, I need you…
You need the children and you have them..,
They need you..
you need them…
Then leave us…
Alone, in all those words she never said that I would be, alone…
She listed all she wanted from me, but I wasn’t one of them
I would end up alone…
I was the toy left behind…
The complexity in the simplicity…
Left opened under the tree..
And never played with…
Listens to the band alone…
Surprisingly engaged in the band…
And the female lead…
Speaks with the female lead singer…
Who likewise has traveled to the ring…
To perform and seen another that rebelled and is held in prison…
Alone he listens to the subtle hum and ping of the ring…
It is a machine circling the Earth above the clouds…
He recalls the fall of the ship…
Heard from the others the same thing…
There are groups who gather to present a podcast…
Discuss what they have…
What they believe…
The ring circles the Earth…
At a height equilateral to the height of the atmosphere circling the earth.
The only thing they got right was the calculations needed to hover above the Earth,
So that the ring never drifted off…
Until they were ready…
Nor fell back to Earth.
As we were trapped in the perpetual struggle on Earth…
They were as much trapped if not more so above the Earth…
They knew of Mars and that is all but could never travel to it…
I keep this, this image of a green place I found, on paper,
to imagine that the world was once green it seems…
not a dull green and brown color…
As a child I recall being witness,
I still remember when the saucer shaped object fell from the clouds…
men in outfits that looked like sanitation overalls, but dirty, converged on the saucer, surrounded it and seemed to be calling in through what seemed like windows…after those giving assistance went to the saucer that had also been dragged away this item in the debris left behind… a small piece of paper with this image of green, such beauty…the world was once filled with color…
Wishful thinking, you use your brain too much…
Hardly, we use far less than we have the capacity.
We should use more at least try until the excess spills over the brim like a frothy over-filler drink.
Imagine, he would…if he was there when a lift appeared in front of him…
So many have been seen, their need is greater, and the chances greater.
What happened once so long ago could happen again…
ralphpitre@gmail.com

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