young and I
on suggestion smoke a cone
in bliss on isolation
exteriorising sadness
you'd be sad to, watching
clips on new world order
via the Rothschilds of
the last 200 years, a
happy song comes on, up beat
I want to emphasize
the mood I'm in, a
finger tip finds a song
called soldier and young,
says - soldier your eyes
shine like the sun,
I wonder why.
And they say there's no
god but distraction
while they loan us back
our freedom
with interest they call it
interest in the shape of
little nodules, granules,
the skin stripped from
our bones not caring for
setting our own appearances
Buying them - have been
for a while - we've let the
seller set our policies
on where to run,
they've moved in and set
up a fence, only a domesticated
dog would accept and
whimper 'old man I'm
a lot like you - I need
someone to love me the
whole day through - you
look into my eyes and
you can tell that's true.
- So what, all this,
for the fear of a cloudy
day that the sun will never
shine again,
ALL THIS
for a days night
possibly not returning
the Death instinct
covering up our love
for the unknown and
our love for
THE RESPECT DEATH
COMMANDS, for the
COMMANDS, for the
avoidance of such
rituals I will
hand over the appearances
of everything to a
carpenter, a banker,
and a speaker coating
the sullen crowd with
shiny new death proof
suits - NOTHING MATTERS
IS THE SLOGAN,
Chanting in the stitches
Nothing cares we
whisper in supermarket
isles -
Look at ALL THE
EVIDENCE WE
DECRY - THE PROOF
WE BEATEN REACH OUT
FOR EXPECTING THE
REAL TO BE ABLE TO BE
TOUCHED - BUT STAGE PROP
FILLS THE HAND, WATCH
THE SCREEN IF YOU THINK
I AM JOKING.
FOR EXPECTING THE
REAL TO BE ABLE TO BE
TOUCHED - BUT STAGE PROP
FILLS THE HAND, WATCH
THE SCREEN IF YOU THINK
I AM JOKING.
"A man needs a maid,
when will I see you again"
The effort for authentic life
requires the spell casting
of fluid complexity to
keep the professions from entering
and setting up their wares
in the garden you've let
run wild, in that moment
you saw it all, is
easy to see,
How you write by day
light, night or sun in
sand wearing the earth
from my skin, like
winds curly comb
caresses a cliff face
Bearded with Growth,
I've flown over, run
left ahead against
some life force
unknown embracement
of total commitment to
the ease of waking,
a daylights storm,
met in secure holdings
shaped temporarily on this
earth -
When Will the Great
Rothschilds Build The
Great Houses, that
never need fixing or
selling or stuff, when
will The Fields Arrive
in Honor tended in
love with creation
perpetual beyond profit,
Where will the
Cities constant harmony
Driven to further our
Capacity to love in
amongst the dangerous
stages as we prepare
for singular discovery
and collectively send the
Species into the next
Planet - WE CAN DO
IT. Wandered on the
moon 40 years ago -
YOU CAN IMAGINE THE
TECHNOLOGY BREAKTHROUGHS
BY NOW SINCE THEN,
MIND BOGGLING BOUNCE
A CHILD COULD BE
EMPEROR OF HIS OWN
CRAFT TO VENUS
AND ARRIVE A CLONE
BUT AS IF HE'D
BEEN THERE FOREVER
MIND STACKED,
SUCKLED IN A
PETRI DISH,
This is Right NOW
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