|
Now in the age of Aquarian
doubt,
in patriarchal means,
cabals attempt
to control everybody's
scene,
they made the net on which
we spiders say aho,
But the new truth is there,
we are aware in our brains
and souls
that science is the magic
of directness,
and magic is the science of
indirectness,
thus reconciled feminine
and masculine, uncovers
the truth of that which we
do not know,
soon discovered one insight
at a time.
***
I am the son of the Lorax,
descendent of satyr-blooded
people
who live under the leaves,
and care
for the trees on the edge
of your
cement deserts and plastic
lawns,
I am the son of the Lorax,
housies see me roam free,
Houma, Naquin, last of a
native people
treated as a disease,
thought extinct
but I still breathe the
morning breeze,
I am the son of the Lorax,
and when Babylonian rubble
has burned and fell,
I, son of the Lorax, shall
breathe well.
***
Gritty city streets help
radiate the heat
that agro vibes feed upon,
people unwitting pawns in
deadly secret games,
it all reduces down to
what’s flowing in the gutter,
same old repression and
refrain,
When will minds be as free
as the rain?
***
the flight of the raven
possess intellect,
random seeming flight,
the perfection of the curve
over the illusion
of a straight line
***
winning any contest
requires favor of the
universe,
and the greatest champions
win, not due to skills or
fortune,
but by agreement of the
known and unknown
|