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WIZARD WORKS

WIZARD WORKS

Wizard Works, Wizard, Wizard Works ...
Twinkle in time.
Peeking in,
gone again.

Wizard Works.
Diabolical devil,
with halo heart.
Pitchforks of peppermint cane,
for you.

Wizard Works,
will I see you again?
And with an echo &151;
See you again.

CLOSE

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© 2015 Michael Lamas

THREE SIGNS

THREE SIGNS

She was born in Summer's Harvest and Heat
Like the Virgin you'll see.

Pretty girl in Looking Glass bonnet,
With lace a draping a desk near.
14 is perfect age purity.
Innocent
White
violets.

And there's the mighty lion, proud,
garbed in gold.
Quite a sight to behold.

His kingdom come is already be.
Royalty rest confidently.
Shining such light from the Heart Center.
Generous
warm
kitty.

Quiet fish you swim so sensitively,
following feelings from the sea.
What's going around in your water mind,
Plunging to left while Rising right.
Can you read my mind little fishy?
Nebulous.
Poetry.

CLOSE

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© 2015 Michael Lamas

On a Summer Night

Worms glow green in the darkness;
Evergreen trees laugh lightly....

Lost your spot, there's no place to stand aground.
What can be done to help yourself?

Even as I write this song,
the crickets call me back for more.

CLOSE

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© 2015 Michael Lamas

I Can't Go

I can't go.
I can't go.

Who had ever told you that?
Who had ever told you that?
Who had ever told you that?

Have you heard that from twelve sides before?
Each one pointing towards the door.

I can't know.
I can't know.

Who had ever told you that?
Who had ever told you that?
Who had ever told you that?

Gods for centuries have remembered their name.
Do you think it's all the same?

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© 2015 Michael Lamas

Follow Yourself

Follow yourself
maybe through open air.
Follow yourself
and into the fountain.

Find yourself now be void.
Vast silence in engulfs your ears.
Energy tingling,
continues to float
you
a-round,
a-round,
a-round-aaah.

Down in the lake
there's a
valley of sunshine.
Go in and you'll
see fine.

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© 2015 Michael Lamas

LOOKED OUT IN THE SUNSHINE

LOOKED OUT IN THE SUNSHINE

Looked out in the sunshine,

What tell me did you see?

A thousand faces with hearts a smile,
heard them call to me, listen child,
 
We can take you to tomorrow and beside the edge of dawn
show you treasures only wished for, we'll return you the first of....
 
No time wasting my hour.

Then tell me what you'll do.

I'll take the road to my homeland, and I'll carry through, know I can.
 
You can walk up to tomorrow, you can make the edge of dawn. You've dreamed treasures only wished for, you'll be back the first of....
 
New time waiting before me.

Then tell me where you'll go.

I'll follow faces forever full, for this I have to show, this I know...
 
Yes you made it to tomorrow. Yes you slipped right past the dawn. Found the treasures of the morning.
 
I'll be back, I will be.

CLOSE

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© 2015 Michael Lamas

FREE FROM ME

FREE FROM ME

Free from me
I can see
Wonders of bounding around me.
All of the world I can see.

Chorus

I know nothing more than you.
Nothing more than me.
Would I have you to believe that what I say is just the game?

Opened eyes
Endless Skies.

Trees and the mountains on my side.
Come, yes I'll go for the ride.

Chorus

I know nothing more than you.
Nothing more than me.
Would I have you to believe that what I say is just the game?

Free from me
I can see
Wonders of bounding around me.
All of the world I can see.

All of the world I can see.

All of the world I can see.

CLOSE

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© 2015 Michael Lamas

The Ballad of Brother Pete

The Ballad of Brother Pete

Brother Pete would sometimes go too far. On a Friday night binge he went and stole my car.
He made it up to Jersey, when he ran out of luck.
The cops pulled him over and they locked him up.
 Oh Yeah

I answered the phone, Pete said, “I'm in jail.
Send $500 so I'll pay my bail.” I said,
Ok, “But don't let it happen again." He said,
“Don't worry about me bro, when's your ship coming in?“

Brother Pete sometimes could be very rash.
Went to rob a liquor store to get some cash.
Climbed up to the roof, fell through the skylight to the floor.
Got arrested as he, crawled out the door.
  Oh Yeah


I got the call about a quarter to ten. I said,
“Don't tell me Pete, you got busted again.” He said,
“I'm going straight,”and I said, “Tell me when.” As he
hung up the phone he said, "When my ship comes in."
Bridge
I had always
thought that he
was doing
wrong.
I asked, "Why
live like this,"
he only
yawned
then
said,
"I won't be here long."
 
Pete took flying lessons, going to wing down South.
Importing pharmaceuticals was what it's about.
"He flew the plane when high on drugs," read the report.
Next week he was downtown, standing in court.
Oh Yeah

The judge said, "Join the Navy son or go to prison."
Pete thought a moment, it was an easy decision.
I met him at the dock and said, "Pete, youyour can't win."
He looked me in the eye and said, "When's yourship coming in?"
 
Pete was discharged in a couple of months
for shooting off a missile just after lunch.
It blew up in the ocean, bunch of fish went dead.
LSD for breakfast had done in his head.
Oh yeah.
 
He was free again & roamed the streets once more.
It was Thursday morning when he knocked on my door. He said,
"Bro you think that you could be a friend?,
Let me stay a little while, just till my ship comes in."
 


Winter came, Pete said, "I got to go.
I think I'll be cruising down to old Mexico." I said,
“Pete do you get something by living like that?” He just jumped into his Chevy and never look back.
 Oh Yeah
Speeding down the Highway that he knew so well.
Shot through the toll booth at 112.
Crashed into a truck, that was the end of him.
I said a little prayer that went,
"I hope your ship came in."
Bridge
I had always
thought that he
was doing
wrong. I asked, "Why
be like this," he only
yawned then
said, "I won't be here long."

CLOSE

--------------------------

© 2015 Michael Lamas

IN THE STREETS OF BABYLON

Amber Moon is full and rises
in the clear, crisp sky
over Babylon.

We look up
hand-in-hand
and touch the stars together
wondering....

The Lights in the sky
The lights of the city
...

The morning light of the Sun
brings the tireless march
of visitors through the arched gates,
marveling at the high walls,
or just another day.

And another day passes.
...

Our children grow — we watch.
and having found their way,
they seek their fortunes,
climbing fearlessly the cloud piercing
tower of Marduk —
never thinking once that they could fall.

We only hope that they see
from their heights,
and beyond our dust below,
what will last:
the life behind the moment.
...

Ninurta. Solemn, silent, in the sky.

Ceaseless —
a boundless, unstoppable river with seemingly no end —

relentlessly transforming
everything ...

Everything.

It flows another thousand years
and it is as if we were never here.

CLOSE

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© 2015 Michael Lamas

The Coliseum Collage

The spectators all wear white,
the same color
cloaking their heads in cloth.

A bare chested Gladiator
reaching cautiously between the black iron bars
of a cage,
offers something tasteless to a curious,
sniffing
Lion.
It shows no interest.

* * * *

Are the spectators on trial?
Is there a trial?

* * * *

Someone in the audience shouts,
"When do the games begin!?"
The spectators,
chattering away
like any civilized crowd,
hear,
yet deliberately take little notice.

The Hermit though,
squatting against a limestone wall
of an empty walkway,
notices.

"The Emperor starts the games,"
he mutters to himself.

* * * *

Underneath (where no one can look),
many felt that generations would pass
within these very walls,
and that somehow
the game was already afoot.
Why else were they there,
(as far as anyone could remember)
dressed in their simple yet holiday best?

In the meantime,
Some wandered, some waited,
and, as the sky would darken as it always would,
others would hold optimistic candles
and listened, half aware,
to music
that they did not understand,
but hoped to somehow.

At times, a rush of anticipation
would sweep over the crowd,
like a warm wind
waving across a field
of ripe, golden wheat.
The spectators would sit.
Some would sigh;
and gladiators would take positions
that they somehow knew
without apparent rehearsal.

* * * *

A gleaming Chariot charged through the main gate —
on schedule —
kicking up grand dust of who knows who.
The crowd jumps to its feet
cheering wildly
sending startled,
civil birds
to flight.

"It's as if the whole world were here,"
beams the charioteer,
smiling broadly,
waving —
again
at the peak of his glory.

The Sun,
brightly accenting his polished armor,
enhances his magnificence.

Have the games begun?

* * * *

Unnoticed, the Fool,
always ready to miss something,
drops a red petal from his high perch
on the coliseum wall.

It wafts down, like a slow eternity
— which it is —
falling to rest
with a soft, cosmic,
thud
on the Persian-rug floor
of a dream,
where the wisdom of the wise
and of the wizard
and even of the doubtful,
goes unnoticed by all
but the closest at hand.

The soft sound echoes,
like tiny feet
pattering down
the sky-blue
marble
hallway
of infinity:
The music
to which they dance.

And dance they do.
Behind the lyrics of joy and sadness,
of daily expectation,
runs the rhythm of hope
and of ungraspable understanding
and ecstasy.

"Will the music ever cease?"
muses the Hermit,
smiling,
nodding, and turning
to climb the ancient stairs.

"It is the song of Lovers."

* * * *

Night came, once again;
the lights of the coliseum
went dark.
Everyone,
gladiators and spectators alike,
slept in place,
in full dress,
awaiting the morning,
while the rhythm continued,
pulsing gently,
incessantly,
reassuringly,
beneath them.

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© 2015 Michael Lamas

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© 2015 Michael Lamas