By Marcus Dwemer


When my height is matched only by my age,the sage told me, 'that I will have found an ecstasy so rare,that no one will ever, have ever been there. I count the rings as if I am a tree but ecstasy eludes me, as I knew it would.

I could have counted grains of sand and after,started on the rice or carved upon a cuckoos egg,something very nice,just to let the cuckoo know,that we know why she builds no nest.

I have festered long enough and boiled up in the glare of a staring midday sun,it's time and time has just begun to interest me, never mind the ecstasy, that will come as surely as the night begets the day,one day my day will arrive in all its splendour. This is the agenda that I look towards the sky and pray for, a gender difference in her magnificence and I would bow before this maiden,laden as I am with all these wantings in my head.

I read once in a book, that all it took was just a look and then we're trapped,wrapped inside her spider web,carried off and eaten in her silken bed,but I would like to try it anyway,come what may my day will run before the settings of another sun and I will taste that which is fun or I will die, in contempt and contemptuous of my inconsistency,I allude again to my search for ecstasy and is it that my eyes or indeed my body fail me,when she hails me from her sanctuary? and I see only what I want to see, something that the sage had been careful not to tell me, fruitless.

Let Moses come to give me pills, break the tablets of these hills upon my back and Lot's wife on the track, forever looking back and turns to salted tears which trickle slowly down across the years and surface in some nursery rhyme.

Moonlight falls on the desert sands only the scorpions beam.

Often I think of Billy, with his great white eyes & his tats, arms full of grinning devils, scorpions & pentagrams.

He was a hellacious gunner & he loved to use the kabar & we missed him  when he rotated  back to the world.

somewhere i have forgotten you
deep and far away
parts of my desert are as arid as the day you met them
but the scorpions come out to play at night
and what do i do but harbor them?
they say the stars show you your fate
but the scorpions can only tell me what i am supposed to be

Today people make themselves out to be crazier than they are
A false insanity, from the glamour of television
You wish yourselves into River Oaks by threatening suicide
Unturning those river-polished stones 
only to find scorpions seeking shelter below
Opening up cans of wriggling worms 
That don’t ever die when you stab them

When you look me in the eyes Loneliness unfurls inside of me Like a scorpions tail And stings the soft belly of my heart. A deep pain Spreads throughout my body, Clutching my bones, Taking me hostage. I feel my heart swell. It’s much too big for its cage. It’s the bird screeching protests When you try to put it back in. The sweating begins almost immediately. I feel like I’m melting onto the dirt road And you, You are laughing. Your smile splitting your lips, Your teeth snapping like claws, Distracting me from your molten black eyes. I vomit my loneliness.

Faint words of familiar sentiments falling upon my heart and mind; the language conjured spirits from my past.

I looked for the bottle but all I could find was regret.

And if I built a building,  I'd build it out of bugs.  Spiders, bees, and scorpions,  And seeping, slimy slugs.  Its floors would crunch and splatter,  Its ceilings would drip down;  Floors that hide up in your pants  And buzzing all around. 

''to the men of this world''' 10,000 scorpions bring to abyss hell , if you harm a women. said the prophet.  as then  lord said to the  world it end here  right now!! never miss treat god seed bearer in life

no have the right to control women. as his slave in life. to gain money for sale of a women. no have right hurt or harm women no have right to kill a women no have right to kill anyone in this world. any man harming a women. will go to abyss of hell. for harming a women in any way.

'Contemporary! You mean: No magic,  No fantasy worlds, 
No Gothic settings, 
No Oracles, 
No minotaurs, 
No highwaymen,
No giant scorpions, 
No werewolves, 
No wizards, 
No rogues,
No fighters,
No clerics,
No stealth,
No spells, No casting, No destruction.

Sanctified by scorpions,  the secret touch of midnight water sneaking black upon the shore. Deep-sea chests full of hearts, some broken, some missing.

Today i viewed multicoloured eggs And tangled my eyes in a giant grid . Got angry at the scorpions  For getting in the photons of my stolen glitter. I contemplated train  prices and cursed the wiry cellulose In sugarsnap peas that catches in my throat.  On a bright pink carpet  With tiny rectangles we talked  About words with words.

Do not think, for the mind is careless; thoughtlessly inflicting drugged streams of half consciousness. memories on the carousel, wheeling rainy dreams.
Lose all touch with sanity, 
there's no love for you,
Roaches fancy a flesh of vanity,
but scorpions sucked dry the blood.

She is perfect just the way she is, but I will never be. She has birthed a baby, his green eyed, sweet chinned little girl.

Scorpion will claw you, bite you, and eat you.

Our love is a dry desert heat Leaving me drowning in sweat Till the scorpions sting me  Till life releases me 

Our love is a furious tundra Endless white winter land Urging me on till my limbs go numb Till I forgot where I came from

Dance into the spiral lights across the desert, wicked dunes reaching to draw you in a mirage could it be, would you not know if into the hills did you not step?

I reached safely where you sent us
It's a lovely place for any traveller
Problem is the people who came along 
Those you said should be my brothers 
They're bad & insert tubes in the heart
To suck out every little bit of our blood 
We'd be brothers if only we connected

There's one with joy filled to the brim
Simply because my pockets are empty 
His heart finds peace when we're troubled
And end up clamoring for their assistance
They set traps everywhere, up and down  
They rip us and are hungry,yearning to bite 
It excites when you're helpless and despair 
It's comic to them watching your struggles 
They never remember when you helped
They celebrate when they see you dying

Prayer comes in bizarre questions, and answers drawn out in raspy breaths. I want to see each one, smoky and staining the teeth that asked (like they could ever understand). I want to feel the voluptuousness of the unknown, riding each wave to the sandy shore.

Holon, warming fire, electricity, thundersnow, you could be, light steps, air stinging, the quick scorpions, I took a man's shirt from him, my girl's chest in the desert pool, my little body, my little body holding the lightest dance steps, hidden within that huge shirt, hidden within the moving dance of scorpion eaters, the rosey colors rising from north and south, and east where Jordan hisses.

She held up the bar like Goliath, standing there so stoic, ordering Stoli's on the rocks, her arms draped in ink-stories. The scorpions on her elbows were as revealing  as her broken heart shoulders. She stood there beautifully, clenching the tiny glasses with love and hate written on her delicate scarred-fingers, downing the clear Russian-liquid as if it were a serious habit. A cascading mop of lime hair spilled over her darling face, attempting to hide  her eyes of pure  sweet magic.

Bingo and Jack,the playful dogs. Not minding the earthly bogs, jump and joyfully bite each other at any site. Then Bingo consciously fall and the other call.

As opposed to human beings and snakes and other beasts that carry their poison in their mouths, the scorpions keep it in their tails, which means that one cannot consider them entirely responsible for the repercussions the poison might have, just as one cannot, for example, consider drivers completely responsible for accidents caused by their back wheels.

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