Ra

The beautiful questions hanging from my head like a question mark, still the light from the spark, illuminates the dark from the disco lights, white nikes, denim jeans, summer skits, flirts, everything is all about work, but I am tempted by the evils, laughing from the poisoned wine from their fortress, I skip the wine and straight to the ganj, in the jungle where the weak are eaten, but the strong prevail, and swallow the nail like the truth, tough and rough, I resist the rust of the touch from the lustful, disgusting, slaving and at the end of the day sleeping and falling into a trance, a dance where we are lead into a path, instead of knowing that truth plus truth can set you free, we'd rather go on a shopping spree, thats the type of math we learn, the more we yearn the more we bathe in the spoiled black currant oil, eating from the soil that is as corrupt as the intentions of the farmers that toil, from the politicians that speak through the tv, frequencies like lies, travel through the thick smog entering our mircophone

Hanging

They don't know the truth, thats why they use capitalism as an excuse, to act so rude, shameless, the aimless games they play to put us in the slaveship, or as they say the deadly 9-5, alive but on life support, the ship waits for the last passengers at the port, but I purposely miss the ride, stride like the gum, meditate alone like a nun, praying to the sun, starring till my eyes melt and the rays strike my ego, burning my soul, taking my skin down the road of salvation, stripping away my material, only leaving the superior energy, that vibrates so heavenly, with no doubts attached, only certainty, but I stand with subtle amenity, to erase any duality and multiple personalities, forget the labelling, make up like mabelline, but I stand forever dangling from the guillotine, never breaking

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