Oh Dr.Oz would you endorse
Visionary entheogens,
Opiates and stimulants to
Find truths,
Unlocking the rooms of the
Universe of the inside?
Following bliss
Finding God ,
The true self
The Astral self
But the loneliest room
Is the one outside.
And the check out time is now.
Oh sick world filled with a million televangelist
And one hundred and fifty channels
Filled with prosperity gospels
And fifty dollar good faith seeds
But the Lord needs a extra sixty.
Oh Mr. Campbell what new myths
Shall we live by?
What new messiah awaits
Behind face one thousand and one?
Oh Dr.Phil help us as we brace our psyches
For the trip back to the moon.
The time is near for
Young men shall have visions
And old men shall dream dreams
As they browse discount racks
With money left over,
After amscott customer service fees.
Oh Lord how long
Till this life rolls up
Like a scroll?
And we stand glorified
Before ourselves
Reflected in the eyes
Of our absentee father?
i could fall asleep
if i could just
get past all of the words.
the muse always comes
when you're already
in bed & naked
or on the toilet
reading paperbacks.
she comes without knocking
on days i can't
even find a pen.
she came so i
gave her a beer
& hoped she'd
stay a while.
a televangelist was
praying for assassinations,
but i couldn't have
pulled a dead dictator
out of the clogged toilet.
a red cross volunteer
knocked at the door
asking for money
help
sympathy
pity
& more money.
"do you want a beer?" i asked her.
the pain felt so painless
when it was that far away.
the closer it gets
the more alive it seems.
it was alright to
play outside again.
it might be
our last chance.
back inside the beer
was gone & so was
my muse.
somewhere towards
the back
a toilet was flushing.
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