Yesterday’s Bones

Yesterday’s Bones

I was stumbling on bricks of bass and synth,
Before I realized that I myself, was sound
A little tone in a symphony magnificent,
Of whose end, or beginning, I’ve never known

I was afraid of lizards, and the rat’s shadow,
As I raced up the stairs, the dark stairs at night
Afraid to make the walk to the nearest cooler,
Afraid that someone dead, was sitting on my couch

I was letting curiosity get in the deeper,
Into the lower chasms that were unguarded
It’s taken me places where space becomes jelly,
Places were time became a real intimidating man

I’m no child, not another innocent darling in astral mode,
I’m no explorer whose out to save the world
To bring psychological tales of tuned magic,
To every pot-smoker tipsy in wonderland

I’ve sold not much after my fears,
Wandered too bravely into my nights
I’ve kept every feeling safe and untouched,
Burning in imprisonment in my veins and marrow

Yesterday is bones, the bones of tragedy,
As yesterday is dead, and the people it made
Tomorrow’s a dream that was dead before conceived,
And now is a perception of reality’s graveyard

She left me her lips, and some of her thighs,
Bits and pieces dangling in my right brain
The many shades on her eyes that gracefully danced,
Are now colors forgotten to rum and time

Companionship burned like a flame in those years,
Each eyelid, each dent that gently livened her lips
Every detail, from the scent of her insides,
To the smell of her hair, caressed my senses

Sensations create the reality of contact,
Each movement in the temples of feeling within me
Every vision defining the boulevards of human drama,
Is from a sight, a little fragrance, a very subtle touch

Without a sense, there is no world
Without taste, no world that appreciates lips
Without eyes, no colors to tickle us at bright noon
Without ears, no song to dance our minds to madness

The world is a world of sensation,
And we in it not as sensors, but senses
We are the senses of the universe,
Its apertures through which to know delight

Those days are gone, those monsoons of knowing
When we lived like gods on our wet balconies
With rum, kisses, laughter, and elation,
Those days of lightness and fractal visions

The rain trickles down forever,
And every word is watered down to emptiness
The monsoon will end, and our dreams will perish,
And the clinking of time will find its solace

Image is the property of,
Georgie Pauwels – Flickr

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The Story of Creation

The Story of Creation

Sometimes too often stuck with papers,
Some moments when two things are interesting
It’s too often that this daytime job,
Gets to become a string of dull choices

Do I want magic or money?
Food of leaves or golden beef,
Sometimes too often,
I’m wandering astray,
Into a maze in which color is non-existent,
Into a maze with no dance and music,
With no enchantment
And I’m lost,
With no inspiration to tickle my neck,
No fire to burn my emotions

Most people, are stuck

Life is this great LSD story,
At the beginning of which,
God had himself a champion dosage
And wandered off into this endless dream,
Of which we are all so sincerely part of
Becoming fragments and fractals of this ancient dream,
That spurted forth like paint on an invisible canvas

It’s true, life is God’s great LSD tale,
A psychedelic dilemma,
Forged into molecular abstraction,
An atomic explosion,
In the non-existent mind,
Of an eternal being
This great psychedelic story,
In which somehow,
Death became a feared antagonist

Somehow, this whole color show,
Turned out to be,
A social drama around death

Where are the champions of the light,
Who lovingly tripped this Earth up to ecstasy?

God’s tale, his color tale, his foolish tale,
His endless tale, his bloody tale his wretched tale,
A psychedelic tale, after all
And it’s still being told,
By that formless champion tripper,
Who’s decided to get sober for a while,
To get drunk with the characters,
Of his own delusional painting,
Of this life story
Who is God you might ask!
Tell me who’s asking the question,
And I’ll tell you,
About God

And after that,
We’ll take a walk through the garden of the void
As two gods clothed in light,
And start for ourselves another great dream,
Like children at dawn
Sewing cosmic works with Lego toys
We’ll create this other whole new world,
This other orderless color spur
And keep on dancing,
Till shit happens again
And change it again,
And again,
Again