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Poem To Lal Ded
my hunters' bow was bent to shoot -
but i had no arrows!
instead i had to take my feelings...
and then i arched the bow once again.
i charged the bellows and my throat with breath
but only fire spurted out!
now i have to use lava
instead of words...
my senses fattened
like five rams for slaughter -
so i fed them the grain of psychedelia;
now i see things i shouldn't see...
the mortars of love-madness
continue their bombardment...
i seek shelter...
the shelling persists relentlessly -
my fortress lie in ruin...
Copyright ©
The End Commune
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