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The Territory of the Little People - Storm Clouds Approaching

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  The Territory of the Little People - Storm Clouds Approaching The atmosphere over Pine Creek churns before it breaks. The sky stops being a distant ceiling, and tears open into a fevered, gestural vortex, churning in fierce ribbons of cadmium gold, raw ember, and bruised ink. Here, in the suffocating stillness of the build-up, the heat plays violent tricks on my inner eye. As the squall gathers, the twisting ironwoods and fractured ridges don't feel empty; they crawl with the uncanny belief of the Little People, low-slung, watchful phantoms spun from wire, red dust, and dry static, waiting out the road's fragility. Every jagged branch and swirling filament of cloud becomes a face, an arm, a sinister presence breathing inside the rising storm, drawing the traveller deeper into the delirium of the interior. Be Creative and Innovative with Knowledge John Bennett - AKA JJFBbennett , is an independent artist. You can view and subscribe to my work via  Blogger , YouTube , Fl...
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Celeste Judgement Flower of Prey

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Like tears in the rain
Knowing all at once
This is not what we wanted
Trapped in this territory
That is deliberately scented to mask the  stench of our failure

So much bloodletting
Even to get even this far

Dancing repetitively across countless seasons
Hiding within one deception before attempting another
In praise of what is willed to become
I don't own my future

Plain and  unadorned and stumbling across timespans
On the surface
Everything recorded for keeping purposes
But acting as tokens that represent so much more
To the effect that
What is hidden is made to appear even more appealing

Hidden as a threat
Hidden for ownership

In secrecy
The promise that those who lie will lead themselves to death
Accepting that the more powerful gain invasive power
Through deceiving the meek
And this populous is frozen
It sits on own hands
In recognition and in horror of those that implement outrageous cunning






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