2004-04-24 - wanderful
back then, 5 to 1
so little had been done
to spiritual detoxifying waste
I was born the number one
the firstborn of the son
of a commandant descendant haunt
a master (baited) race
where debutantes and uncle's aunts
get all up in your face
oh nevermind, I dramatize
I fantasize the case
I super-size
aggranda-size
hypothesize
in space
.
but at some point in aging
toward the future from the past
there were some engaging
liaissons of psychic caste
a system hosting candidacy's
elect escort ass
I contacted beings
which were far beyond the past
ancient voices reminiscent
of bygone regimes
no commitment, intermittent
wayward wavelength streams
thought forms incoherently
following their dreams
no basis in reality
except where humans seem
divulgent in banality
unified in teams
and little boys who march to drums that beat to pulsar beams
what possibly could change
this structure, rearrange
this diademic pattern
so obtrusely thrown and tattered
old remains of former bastions
in the box outside the trash bins
I found no rest of spirit in those days
until the one who sees all of our ways
memorably earth quaking
thrust upon me, overtaking,
praise the ultimate genius
trem'rously soul shaking,
love so intervenous
only this could take me
to what is now between us
sure and steady space
filled with love and grace
a multifacet place
where light anoints the face
and ushers out in haste
all naysayers and base
counterproductive wastes
widely proliferates
detoxifying florals
prevents erosion's morals
and exorcises beings
which keep us all from seeing
there's only one true way
all others go astray
�
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