Solutions to Apocalyptical Equations, Circumstances and Invasions, part two: “Nine! Oh, Nine!”

Solutions to Apocalyptical Equations, Circumstances and Invasions, part two: “Nine! Oh, Nine!”

By Ashtree & Linseed

Behind the dim light tree
A constant cloud
Hanging over
Making sick


Dim the light tree behind
and run around a dime,
what’s that holographic frog
chirping about on yonder log?

I’d be lyin’ if I sed I knoo,
this little you-know-hoo,
wrapped around a branch of oak,
cowering under the owl’s cloak

what do I know of frogs?
meditating on their wooden logs,
lying in wait for princesses
who’ve lost their balls and senses?

Croak no more!
Climb a tree instead!
What are golden balls even for?
Why go and lose your head?

Take it from our branching view:
the lunar archer looks at yew—
and no one else within this forest
catches arrows quite like folklorists!


I heard today
A king enforced his will
Over the poor and common
I also saw a dog find a fishtail;
The smell of a fishtail lingers on the hand
When you pull it away

These three tree
Croak without commercialism
But get the reference
Hopping over lotus


Lotus hopping
Ferrari shopping
talking about the times—
buddhists in the henhouse
and chickens in the glue,
laughter rains from penthouses
while everything guns for you

run, run, run around
funny squirrel
down on the ground
acorns drop like striking drones
from druids speaking
with eye phones

what oh where
will Earth go next?
Get the message in a text!

Dialed straight from Milky rooms
hiding out there in the gloom,
Waying this and this-ing that,
Ashree’s music in a cat

how do you think
the great disk listens,
knowing how the quanta glistens?

Spheres and music: so old hat
might as well wear a cravat!
Pythia gore us for a chorus:
two pin pricks like DNA,
stranding in the Milky Way,
winding their Way like time itself,
“Hold my tail, now we’re a belt!”

Snickering this,
and hickory-ing that,
how’d the hiss
get inside the cat?

Must have been a real live-wire,
one foot wet and one on fire,
straddling floods and finding rats,
lakes of flame and yoga mats,
the end of times is always cool
take it from a porch-bound fool:
the spirals arms are bearing down,
it’s time to get your dancing gown!

Galactic discs always skip like this
whenever leaders are amiss,
and all the animals of the forest
remember speedial for folklorists:
bake a cake and sing a tune,
is how to call and catch a loon,
nevermore will you ever fear
that slithering whisper in your ear,
now that you’ve had just a little bite
of what Athena bakes at night

cakes of moons
and lost cartoons
wandering in the forest

lakes of goons
and mossed doubloons
floundering in the chorus

the galaxy’s pie
spins through the sky
and only tuning forks hear it

how’d you think
that big blue drink
learned from owls to spear it?

give it a twirl
she’s just a girl
with a parachute’s worth of silk

Bringing it down
with a sphinx for a crown
and a galaxy full of milk


Broken to perfection
The board
If it were I, Dylan
I’d be ignored
Words do make
Fashion great
Some occasions
Call the def

Behind lies – – – – the veil
Broken in me
Faith to sail
A ruddy sea
Can I see the seer
As they see the sea
Painted by _______

“It ain’t me babe”
No, no, no!
I can’t go there
Aware of a “danger bear”
The north lights shine in here
-Still- I’m sailing

To much touching
Not enough touch
Said this mirrors me
Looking high to fantasy
(Time to get up dear)


Deer to get up time,
wandering down the line
of Orion’s pressured arm,
falling in and falling out,
here there’s ins where there is gout,
history limping on lost highways
hindsight wandering out its days—
where will bambi’s mother land?
Get her now, while Earth still stands!

Shotguns are nothing to this monk
like the gear of an elephant’s trunk
“Which blind sage am I this time?
I hope not he with the behind!”

Feeling this and flowing that,
yellow eyes see the Earth as flat
better watch your little pickle,
Confucius says the times do tickle

burning trees and running chairs
what to do with all these hares?
time to get a little smoother,
now we’re running to the future

pops of corn
and oleander
there’s a tree named
for Menander

in the center
of her courtyard
somewhere in the galactic disk

lined with spears
and walled in bronze
her pools are always full of swans

which is why she plucks
and strums her lyre:
sleeping swans are afraid of fire

so when the forest
starts to burn
she fools them with a silly turn

“Look, dearies,
at that big glow—
let me tell you what you know!”

“There’s a bird
up in the sky
wandering with that Chuang-Tzu guy,”

“Pulling tales
and telling lies,
asking ladies for all their pies,”

“and that is how
the fool makes money—
stealing nothing but free honey,”

“fires are nothing
to a folklorist’s kiss:
a thousand years are reading this,”

“so worry not
about falling stars
and failing cities flooding cars,”

“it always comes
to less than nothing
when you have no indoor plumbing,”

“take it from a maiden’s grove,
the trails we weave
are all above,”

“any peach
that you can see
is dangling right here in my tree,”

“So pluck one now,
and take a bite—
this lunar fruit you eat at night,”

“Close your lids,
let crescents fall,
a moonlit land awaits you all!”


All around, sinking
Time takes back
By way of forest
My simple abode

Way at the tippie top
Beyond the branch
A shooting star
Wondering synchronicities
Pierce the minds eye
Hold a clay pot
“It’s a gift!”

Pour it out
But spare the clay
Fashion it back
To the way!


All round sinking
everyone is drinking
like they found an infinite

what’s the deal
with all these feels
strumming from Odin’s

Have you all heard?
What is the word?
Passed up from in the

Is it all true?
Did the dragon unglue?
And unwind that slippery

Boats made of dreads,
with valkyries for heads,
is it time to crest the world

How would I know?
You know I’m so slow,
at figuring out the

but Loki’s box
you can unlock
by picking up a pen

let’s see how it goes
when Freya knows
the key to his little art

where there’s an end
there’s also a start
a golden thread within the heart


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