His body was there and he could feel the dust settling over every inch.
Praise be to Allah.
Praise be to Buddha.
Praise be to Christ.
Praise be to Zeus.
Praise be to Ra.
Praise be to the darkness.
Praise be to the disappearing electron.
Praise be to agriculture.
Praise be to the mothers.
Praise be to the earth.
Praise be to good intentions gone awry.
Praise be to CERN.
Praise be to Obama.
Praise be to I'm A Celebrity Get Me Outta Here.
Praise be to the homeless.
Praise be to the church.
Praise be to L. Ron Hubbard.
Praise be to the spirit of the dead.
The ego splits
Three bottles of cough syrup buys you a ticket
to a disassociated view of life
where everything happens at once
or not at all
The table spins in your mind and mixes with tomorrow
add in alien math and calendars that don't make sense
take your plans hopes dreams and aspirations
put them on spin cycle
when you climb out of the muck
when the puzzle pieces fit again
you wonder why everything was such a fuss in the first place
you feel the music in your bones
grab a sketch pad
meaningless thoughts float from your open mind
onto the blank page
your cerebral stew is still simmering
your control is less intentional
reproduction doesn't matter anymore
your sight, your vision, is in tune with the gods
in tune with the world
in tune with your soul
the ego forms
here you are now
a needle in a stack of fine tuned hay
lost, lacking something
lacking a million other needles
so you can be lost in the stack

1 comment:

  1. I love the term "cerebral stew" Sounds like a good title for a poetry book or band :)