I put my faith on a sanskrit phrase chanting a mantra,
Landscape sound waves mapping an atlas.
A cactus sounds strange I put my trust in a practice.
Now the governors last days in the gut of Galactus.
The brother was anxious never was there another Atlantis.
A civilisation insinuating that someone needs answers.
But who good enough to puts their love in the gangsters?
And say boys will be boys, Appreciating troublesome chancers?
Your habitats a matter of fact only when your mother had cancer.
standing up and commanding others in an environmentalist fanfare
I dress them up in some antlers, Carcosa a symbiosis.
Victims exposed in the poets most intimate moment.
You only think of devotion yet never except rejection
As a necessary step in infinite directions.
Were an eclectic collection, separated colorful sections.
Mining for diamonds keeping time in a struggle for weapons.
Vote on another election, prophets profiting from death.
Sowing another intent into an open ocarina set.
I walk a scenic path quoting an awkward Jesus wrath
Science seeking a religion in precision and breathing math.
The leader lags he leaves his staff, cast down to the dirt road.
The path taken the path chose not to abandoned his work load.
Serve those in turn who would think not of serving the helpless.
Palpitating hearts are starving to harness the power of what the true wealth is.
The elk is the great spirit of the forest demanding his returned head.
They burn red seas to hot ash not parting the words dead.
So the Earth bled for the agenda of her children thinking nothing of it.
Material serial murderers returning love to the hunting summit.
God I love it in all its troubled interconnected beauty.
I’m at peace with war not interested in choosing a duty.
Its rewardingly soothing, dubious music from my guitara.
A drop sand into a mandala grain at a time in samsara.