Truth or Ideology

I took a break from madness, then returned
To find I could not stand to patronize
With willful ignorance, all knowledge spurned
For ideology. Contempt the wise
Show for such wastes of time--an awful crime
With life so short--we should despise demands
On us that drag us low. Come smell the thyme
And rosemary, a virtue that commands
You to devour fragrant meats to fill
Your stomach with true nourishment, breathe deep
The true aroma, clarify your will
And then you will be ready for a leap
To all the joy that knowledge, wisdom bring
When unified to beauty and then sing.

The Burden of the Ass

Why grieve to have the burden lifted--lift
Your hands in joy--no harm can come when all
Your grievances are answered--it's a gift
That you reject, to raise you when you fall.

You want to wallow wet in your misfortune--
You want to play the victim in your wealth--
You never want to bravely stick out your chin,
But live a life of weakness, war, and stealth.

You cynically reject the beautiful
Because it leads to virtue, truth, their source--
You'd rather make sure that you're seen as dull,
An ass who thinks the world needs simple force.

Extend your hand to mine and let me throw
You through the source of all you think you know.

The True Conflict

The dragon coils at the spine to dine
On all the darkness that you want to eat
To breathe its fires, incinerate, defeat
The innocent--it's part of its design
To eat up souls and so thereby refine
The rocky paths down which we fall, retreat--
The wings are hurricaning with each beat
The failure of ourselves and our design.

I stab the serpent through its silver eye
To calm the storm within and set the path
For me to take away from all the blame
The fires once made--and so I, joyful, die
To this cold life and give my soul the bath
It needs to rinse off its resentful shame.

An Astrology of the Soul

It's raining diamonds from a Neptune sky
Of methane blue within an indigo
Eye watching you from near the edge--deny
Near death belongs among the gods who go
Around the center of your soul--don't shy
Away from who we were so long ago.

Love looms large--strife is small among the stones--
The evening and the morning are the same
And there's no message that would dare atone
For all the snows of war, fires of the lame
Thrown out of heaven, landing with a groan
And making us face up to all our shame.

The very ring of wealth and plenty will
Renew us every weekend as the Earth
Brings life before the light. Tree shade will fill
Us with the longing for a brand new birth
Of spirit in the kingdom and we'll kill
The sky itself to demonstrate our worth.