vagabond poetry

 

 

ILLUSION of the time passing by

a new conception of reality

as an infinite river

that eternally flows forth

from the heart of creation

a cosmic celebration

with reverence to the medium

we, as human beings, use to communicate

of course, I refer to words

and the soft sincere structure of sound

 

TAP INTO THE VEIN OF SECRET CREATION

Uncover the forgotten stream  ANCIENT ECHO

that gives birth to this particular form of thought

FROM THE WOMB OF EARTH

LIFE SENTIENT CONFUSION

Comes the revelation muse seeker’s

Magick flow etched in ink

To be forever catalogued in the halls of history

And the TOWERS OF TIME

Branded forever in a greater reality

That we, as organic compound complicated

Irrational emotional entities

Must accept and struggle to maintain

While we can only attempt to

Change this wonderous world

With inspiring notions

Far more brave and beautiful

SERENE and CELESTIAL

Than puzzling plans ever conceived by the likes of man…

 

So this soul searcher succumbs to

GENESIS WITHIN THE JAZZ

SUN RA steers satori’s student clear

Of all absurdity and disillusion

All that remains is the moment THE NOW

The solution to how another breath is captured

Another minute granted

A gracious gift for an insane unholy homosapien

Intent on salvation AMIDST THE DAMNATION

No explanation for our soft breathing skin

Flesh composed with billion year old

Molecular star dust structure

No confirmation of a sacred voice

Motivating from deep within

Only the free form floating focalized philosophy of yours truly

Attempting to bury the psychic paranoia

ALLEVIATING ALL ENDLESS DOUBTS

Perhaps putting your worried mind at ease for a while…

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They called us the kids because we refused to grow up,

They called us the slackers because we never showed up,

They called us the drifters as I flow into you,

They called us the dreamers- she remembered them too,

They called us the crazies since we never settled down,

They called us the swingers since we got around town,

They called us the knappies for we never combed our hair,

They called us the weirdoes and took the time to stare,

They called us the movers cause nothing was too far,

They called us the rainbow cause that’s what we are,

They called us the lovers since we fucked with every chance,

They called us the shakers and best believe, we could dance,

They called us the druggies- we were always so high,

They called us the star children- obsessed with the sky,

They called us the alkies when our puke was blood red,

They called us survivors or else we’d be dead

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