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VISUAL BLUR

The Cannabis Queen
Rides her Snow Chariot
A glass shard still remains in his heart
And his heart still remains ice.
This is his true state of existence.

He worships the Queen,
Because now, all is pure,
White and still.
He kisses the back of her palm
In deep submission
She smiles and takes him to her lap
And together they ride the snow filled country side.
Here, there is only love,
Only acceptance,
Redemption and forgiveness.
Together they merge into the fog,
Their silhouettes lost in a holy blur.



In a cold secret chamber,
The maid and the drunkard make love.
She kisses him not,
For his mouth reeks of wine.
N yet she clasps to him and does not let go.
There is,
Such passion,
Such want,
That nothing stops her from having him.
And as she moves rhythmically on top of him
She looks into his eyes
Where the power of wine
The power of an orgasm
The power of a sleepless night
Blur into a holy blur.



In a place called Xibalba
Through which the dead pass
From the confinement called life
To the liberation called death
One soul readies to take the plunge,
To come to terms,
To be one with the eternal.

In one cosmic leap, the soul
Splits into a million tiny pieces,
Of its many laughs
Of its many cries
Of its many loves and hatreds
And its each tiny emotion
Each tiny memory
That came to be in its journey through life,
Becomes a star,
Studding the eternal silver sky,
And transforming it into a holy visual  blur.


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