The New Year Carole

High in the lands of the snow we go, ho ho ho

Up and upright through the waters of the tides

Glasses held high, made of glass and crystal cervas

A vaceline candel through this black blooded nectar we ride

These deep draughts come from southern squeeze grapes

These vines

What is the meaning of the storm striking lightning

Under the sea of Christ so divine

When do you find me, great kraken

So longsome, and so wise

With your eyes and your stare, smiling through these tides

These vines

Finding myself a man across the sands, I hold a skin, wine drunk and divine

What is the land of Ireland, if it cannot come to Arabia, through Nepal’s tide

Back across the road, through Babylon and Prince Lucifer’s abode, the gaoler’s hook of pride

When do we find ourselves, up in the mountains again, climbing stone steps

To go home, these vines

Published by cheater120

Consider me an expert in information munitions. I practice Zazen meditation, Yakuza Trappist form (a Yakuza, games cheat, and Trappist, a counter-agent), as a Bonafuda, a mercantile salesmen of information through philosophy, literature, fiction, and academics, distributed as munitions technique deployed for the purpose apparent to you, unless of course you have violated the ethics of my piece, in which case you will be trapped inside a theft of the piece and an action within the boundaries of the violation you have committed in Benedictine culture, the Jewish affiliate within Catholic culture. Buyer beware, and these poems, are free.

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