Drift of a fist to the sky
In the activist’s pause
Before standing unannounced
At the gates of eternal misery
Where strife finds embittered ground
And the inglorious suffering breeds childless offspring
Mourning for ancestral greed
Sprouting from a native gourd
With cracked shell
Lying abandoned and weakened at the skin
With taught shell-string clacking
With fortune’s boisterous western noise
Shrinking into the mist
Without echo
From musician’s deep sleep
Over the ancient soundscapes passing
Through electric wilderness
To heart
Where the slow & quiet grasp effectively
And mix with outstretched hands
Molding their pots, bold in the mud of a sacred womb
Shaving off the tasteless surroundings
In scholarly jazzdoms
Peaked by suburban afternoons
Where business as usual survives ‘til end of time
In a hypnotic state
Casting generations in a mold of marijuana magic
To break free and stash the Graecian pride
Animating our first 20 years with a stamina to behold
By the psychedelic pop folk music
Frozen as beer in winter’s unforgiving kiss with sanity
As the stone cold sobering recedes into marriage with money
and preconceptions
In the angelic snowball, carving into the strike zone of a
forsaken American childhood
Uncovered now
So timely
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