Merely a man playing piano on the black side of a curtain.
Veiled from existence and loving reconnaissance by his own ignorance.
There is no more weed to smoke.
No more mushroom to chew and make you fantasize of northern caribou.
No more paper stamps to lick and send you off into Saturday idyllic romances.
We are a disconnection from the central hub of consciousness.
Our feet are numb, and the sensation works its way up our fetal confines.
We are naked and alone on this the vigil of our birth.
Our people have been taught hatred and blame-placing to a master’s degree.
They have been taught to subjugate their needs to a central and illogically (but green and eco-friendly) burning hate.
We are placed in self-loathing skin and bones.
We are taught to hate in the twilight of our Sundays,
Only to be born with it again at dawn on Mondays.
We cultivate our children’s prejudices in fields fertilized by our own.
So in Spring great plants of Shit doth bloom!
For like feeding like with like only breeds more like.
Our final salvation is our eternal doom.
When our great filament of the sun is lit and romanced to the one
Who greets us with firm glances and cheers
And minimizes the frights of our years
Wilm the great flame of edelweiss come to envelop our foes?
Or envelope our ambitions?
Sealing them tight in malina to burn
Eternal night to us doth earn.