Should I stop with the pop and check myslef into the hosp?
or go on harmless through space and time with the mystery shine?
read on doctor, and tell me your conclusion, cause it looks like a clear case
of manic insanity to me…
It’s a delusion / hallucination / belief of the first order,
the incurable invincible incredible kind:
the road to eternity starts somewhere in the belly,
and you gotta tune your hearing and listen for the “pop”
when it sends it on nameless down the endless corridor;
it’s not just a pop, we’re talking sunny wizard super pop,
moon pop on the california coastline,
the tiger comes to life and the capital takes offense;
i’m an immamentologist, watching the vapors rise from the crystal nation -
the structure of the mind is glorious like a beehive -
we sing new linen onto the territory of this soul,
and in a scene before its time, nuclear gratitude,
and the reconsecration of the apple,
to throw off the saddle of our division and the frost of disrepair,
end the circus of gametality.
you fill the world with junk and junk’s gonna exist -
the parallel poisons of ingratitude and disaffection.
we’re all gamma ray bursts, a shell that goes “pop” in the wind,
deep wizard pop, a zip zip display of monkey heaven ingenuity,
at diamond-rise on the mist covered chain - the lofty fog billowing
out of immortal bones on parade through the nothingness;
the dragon’s coat is a mystery boat,
in the harsh wonderland of pagan snow.
it lures champions from their nests -
carps at night in the golden moon-stream.
the deer who turned into a fish:
he kept his spots,
he kept his fur,
he didn’t drown.
he’s gonna say a prayer for the world,
that they can feel the Dao.