Sylvan Madness

In the sylvan madness of pot and kush
When the darkness, colors with a rainbow blush
When the tides ebb and the winds pick up
When the faes of grassy glades gladly gallop

Will I ever see another in the land of the sentient
Or would centiyears pass before I meet a tenant?
Antennas out, I roam the blooming fields
Something stirs, I lose all my feels.


Coal Mine Diamonds

The first time a tune befalls your ears
The magical ringing entraps your being
The light of a beautiful piece of art bears
Its benevolent presence before your seeing

The spark that sets off the blazing embers
That set a’shimmer the searing coals
When you see a personage of calibre
The very first time, the epiphanic dole.

You observe diamonds in a distance
Tasteful, hasty, for a mouthful
You seek a fill of the supposed quintessence
Time and again you leave joyful.

The scenery condenses as the eyes adjust
The fizzling of the epitome is trite
The banal blows out amidst the subsiding gust
The eye of it reveals a familiar sight, a clock so bright.

The pursual beyond the prima high
Beyond the horizon of the mystification
Oft leaves one disappointed and dry
For inscrutability holds the crux of attraction
Yet another paradox of delight.

Grey Burr

There seemed to be a general state of unrest
I looked up, grey skies casted down gloom
My stomach rumbled from the full lunch the day
The roar of motors filled the dense air
Everyone hurried holding a strange face
The occasional weak breeze did nothing to lessen the stifling heat
People eating at street-side shops looked lunatic
Some  kids riding little bicycles hugged the edge of the street
They shielded their eyes from the whirls of dust
My stomach churned and I would have puked
I had to reach the clothesline before the streets got empty
Men hung around huddled loosely before the faded yellow shades
I passed by the place where I ate daily
The television picked up nothing but static
I turned a corner and reached my place
I clobbered up half a hundred stairs and beheld the big tree
Swaying gently in the slight breeze with the softest colors
I turned around to the clothesline and
A spot of water hit my glasses


The skeleton of the world shakes hands
With the chortled mill of societal strands
And the white lady in white and blue
Passes, waving a brown briefcase anew
She gives you a drop of the dew
When you knock a man dead
Inside of you

You stand in queues seeking soul heal
The box speaks with mysterious names
You are cleansed, the water banes
The sins of man and goldish dames
When you’re shamed for being sane
Brandish your firing soul
Let’s hit that bowl.

And suddenly you see flashing
Of the stars of some nether way
Amidst smoking snails sliding
Across squeamish rainbows of the day
And orbits of gas and hay
With all of you far away
With all of you far away

But if you float across the deep blue sea
With a boat made from fur
And honey from cotton bees
With paddles shining through a night of slur
You row and row and row and row
When the slouching dark figure takes you low
And your insides house broken glass shards
Shattered periodically with the tunes from afar
Will they come and get you up
Up to their house, up the hall
Will you see the glow through the pitch black wall
Where light and shadow hits and hauls
To form a molten black liquid fall
And you try to climb out of it all
But you trip and fall

The current cuts through your veins
And the blade of your back screams with pain
The whirlpool pulls you closer and closer
To its heart and warmth of its froth
But you swim out into the mouth
Of a giant stone crocodile
Which eats you full
And sleeps with a drool

You hear the echoes of a land
Beckoning you, extending a hand
You gently slip and fall away
And you hear them shout
“We caught one, belay.”

Water Bottle

The skies poured down hard and fast
I climbed each step down
In a jittery gash
Fearful that the next would be my last
Every sound sent little hammers
Into my body, knocking slightly
Minor adjustments, tiny displacements
My bones were tighter and my eyes weren’t blinder
I hit the last step and turned the tap
The whole world crashed around me
As it did inside the bottle with me
I screwed it tight, came back upright
Amidst rolling thunder and creaking metal
A door suddenly crashed and then stopped
Nothing was heard for ever and longer
Little drops hit me ever so slightly
And I was gone


Colored smoke rises and disappears
Leaving a sweet deposition of ecstasy
I settle down and let it go, it steers,
Down the chilly craters it taxis

Feel the turbulent flow of time
Feel the very essence of life
Feel the wobbling lights of thine
Feel the vibrating grinder with keef

Up in smoke goes the cobwebs of the brain
The fire sets ablaze the striken mind
You draw the world in a blind stroke
Your ears go on like cannibalistic drums
The notes gnaw and feed at your brain
The hollowness echoes itself in vain
Your tongue is a dead snakes shed skin
And you rise into the thinnest air
And float for 730 years

Friday Night Live

A familiar nothingness opens up across the head
And spreads through, echoing between the eternity
Fingers pulsate, tap and claw at dead nothings
Heads nod, wobble, as the notes send relentless ripples
That splits the black into a thousand vibrant rainbow hues
Shining the dying, glowing the waning, beaming and gleaming
The body floats as the spirit, thorough and weightless.

Strangers met in a dark misty haze, send waves
Sitting across, lost in a smokey, watery daze
The strings of a sweet guitar, bent and tortured
Sings a slow, rhythmic tale of fleeting beats
I the lazy listener, I the lost , I the weightless
Sneak a peek, piqued at the sounds he makes
Noticing he’s lost in it too, the overwhelming sound
of reverberating silence.

Shedding the mask, once every week,
Friday come, adorned with smiles and sweets
Brain pinched, strangeness drained, everyone is known
When in goes a sudden smitten of moonshine
Strikes the gut and makes thy rise into a blazing stage
Of insatiable needs and desires put out by fire alone
Oh sweet molten glaze, burn me too.