2003-09-12 - 2:19 p.m.
have you ever been minimal
have you ever been reduced
to, not an animal, nor mineral,
but something that's produced...
have you ever been organic
by a mellow state of panic
about what you've halluc'd
amusement that gets frantic
when a coaster rolls dynamic
and you feel the inner juice
and a mentally-based spin of
what you normally perceive
becomes a state that you are in and
convincingly makes you believe
that there's something more than body
with some instincts and some thought
that this horse that we embody
is a victim that is caught
in the web of spider patterns
which impersonate like germs
and impose insider bad terms
of embezzlement and worms
writhing out contracted illnesses
to healthy forms of trust
Enron wannabees, villainesses,
and ghost turds in the dust
of the quaft enrolling stillnesses
in towns which grew like must
out of early settled wildernesses
rotten wood and rust
it's enough to make your thought processes
say "heaven or bust!"
.
the horse's stubborn willingnesses
press into the storm and
galloping, instilling messes,
trampling on the vermin
coming to a merger there
with the crack of thunder
driven by the trumpest blare
frightened by the wonder
fighting for survival share
to keep from going under
.
caught in guilty cower
spiteful of the power
is this the way we want to fare
in the final hour?
.
.
.
Have you ever been organic
Have you ever felt the earth
as she groans in silent panic
at her hosts' hoofs of self-worth
as they trample on their well worn paths
of lies and selfish whims
and wallow in earth's smells and baths
as renegades, whose limbs
and organs, pipes, accordions
which breathe and make some noise
and all the things these Freudians
claim give us charm and poise
delicious tastes and appetites
and dreams of sex and sense
all things which were in paradise
but mixed with incidents
which form distorted temperments
and cause the fissure's firmaments
to crack into some more events
which grumble in their own defense
and rip apart the testaments
.
which shall not be undone
conclusions all forgone
the power of the one
a garment you put on
.
caught in guilty cower
spiteful of the power
is this the way we want to fare
in this final hour?
.
�
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