Back right up

I pick up the pen from the graveyard, I stand infront of the army with the pen as my guard, the ink as the light, the burning passion as my guide, but still breathing and listening to the sound of the universe, slowly as the flower unfurls, the preschool girl dances and twirls, from the scientist to the pothead, just struggling to look for a new consciousness, sometimes I sit and let the smoke drift from my lips, and I stop and think, where time is not present, clock freezes this moment, something we can enjoy, a beautiful peace, like a painting, only with detachment we can enjoy, the life we weren't meant to destroy, a golden boy sitting infront of the stage with a toy, peace, peace, he screams before the deceased, but the dead and the living have no peace, they try to find the broken pieces, but I stand right up to God and say that I am yours for the taking, life will only reveal itself if you will

Detach

Trying to detach from lust, I spit the goo and taste disgust, salivating at the ripe skin, sweet and soft, supple and intimate, I try to get close but I squinted, not ready for the glare, the light, I stay away, its too bright, still trapped in the dark cave, still fascinated with the spark like a rave, but I place my ego in the grave, a resurrect into a new man, with no sin, but I still lust over your skin, temptations ferment within, brews a beverage too hot for the devil, I drink, entice my senses with the lust that has haunted man for ages, standing with two eyes on your breast, forgetting the scriptures I read on my bed, looking through your eyes I only see the skin, touch, blush as I move across your chest, an embrace, laced with sex lies and hate, but one passionate kiss can set the stage, a forgotten sage, hypocrite starring at the mirror, but the flesh is ripe, and the harvest is tonite, a man trapped fighting his inner nature with sacred scriptures, the battle rages and never finishes, put out the flaming lust, that has burned for so long, that has helped create and destroy many songs

Question

I find peace in the silence, speaking to you with mute mouth, listening with the glitters that glisten on my skin, slowly caressing the melody, but I stand in the middle of dualities, no love no hate, a fiery passion cooled by the kiss of the mist that travels along the mountain ridges, far from the ebony oil that fills the african safari, but in the computer age like atari, we communicate fast but lack the interest in the soul, I step back and become a watcher, a viewer from the third person perspective, I do this to gain perspective, tunnel vision is my enemy, drunk of ego laced Hennesy, so I believe and try to achieve, but really, capitalism is not the end all be all, from from love and hate, more like detachment from emotions, divorce from sensations of lust, I travel the empty road to happiness where men have fallen, false witnesses smoking the wrong cess, I write not to impress but to press the thoughts down on the paper that hang on my head, a spiritual revolution, no judgement, imagine smoking with no one harassing, just passing, smoke travelling, from the abdomen to the universe