Posts Tagged ‘God’

oak

What does it mean to be free?
Free to smoke too much weed without getting hassled by the pigs
Free to meet ladies of easy leisure in funky pubs
Free to shoot smack and smoke ice till my brain falls out
Free to drink sixteen pints of beer and stumble down fractal streetscapes
Free to stay in and vegetate watching crap on TV
Free to scheme esoteric schemes
Free to dream esoteric dreams
Freedom not to bullied or hassled out by anyone
Everyone should have this kind of freedom
Man Free Woman Free Gender Queer Free
All God’s children dancing naked in an oak tree forest in sensuous spring
Bounded by a crackling stream rolling over rounded rocks
Sky a hallucinatory blue with a gorgeous rainbow

Hallelujah, Praise God from whom all blessings flow

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mystifying vibrations rapture brainwaves
20 mill shot then roam the night
beating Urizen to self destruction
eyes realize what brains synthesize

psychedelic messages from the heart of a demon-god
syringe of ice immaculate into vein
pharmacological music broadcasts bloodlike awareness

monitored conscious reading on
inflammatory creative afternoons
suffer plaster mountains of cancer
another shot into the saint vein

leafy spirit slithers to a realm beyond anti-psychotics
listen to my mind blur images
through opaque windows
under the Boab tree

intricate salvation
green succulent voices
a mind-bath most pleasing

cocktail-effect transient stare
incandescent self destruction
muttering measures of death

increasingly nothing rocks my world
a naked child with wings angelic
says blood-rivers flow like death-stench

ancient god Urizen has balls of brass and an iron-plated ass
blood infected abcesses of pain
locked in the overflow post-medication nightmare

Urizen strains in the dissonant mirror
electro-chemical squatting
angry schizophrenic God fire

candy surging consciousness
tastes sweet like boiled lollies
tingling beats across brainwaves
mind-matrices intricate and replicated

Urizen sucks Dopamine
these preconceptions challenge our walk through existence
speed like rush to nowhere
conniving a shot from a mystifying syringe
earth-quake inspiration forms a new kind of radio

failing spirits lurk ethereally
free medication vibration
reality for my molecules

the soul unmedicated
knows a meat madness of spirit
dead lord of bentness

tribal veins pump my brain
impaled on a cross
pierced for kicks

 

shaman-1

Always madness knocking at the door
Unmedicated schizophrenics sucking up my time
Rambling to themselves while staring in the mirror
Muttering inflammatory rhetoric and racism
Denying that they have any mental illness
Telling me that the CIA and the NBN are reading their brainwaves
Telling me that there are messages for them in the ads in X-presss
Telling me that the whole planet is being monitored and controlled by the Masons
Convinced that their medication is poison

But these are God’s children
And we must love them no matter how annoying they may be
In tribal societies they would be shaman
With one foot in the spirit world and one foot in reality
Hearing spirit voices and interpreting them for the tribe
Going on mystic journeys accompanied by spirit animals
Speaking in poetry
Mystifying and incandescent

We used to fill them full of anti-psychotics and sit them in corner
Increasingly now they roam free
Sometimes mystifying and inspiring, sometimes annoying and repetitive
Sometimes even dangerous to themselves or others
But they definitely make the world a more interesting place

most-beatiful-women-08

The bush eats a woman and a maggot full of blood
Dead beaten body murdered for love
Eyes on the pus and the crack of the bone
Never will, ever will be so alone

Dead to the world and dead to all thought
Dead to the oceans of pain that she felt
Now she is empty but also free
Nothing but a vapour on the menacing sea

The bush eats a woman and a maggot full of blood
Ready for, ready for, horny for love
Dead broken bodies on a moribund street
Pain for salvation so slutty you must eat

Heads shaped so holy to scrape against God
Harridan half-steps in search of being odd
Half eaten monsters lurk inside your brain
It can never, it can never, it can never be the same

Sylvia, Anne, rot with me now
So the body tells the body it is dying somehow
Rape me in the moonlight with penetrating bone
No I’ve never, no I’ve never felt so alone

valley_of__the_dry_bones_by_loswl-d36usal

Deep down below
Beneath six feet of loam
Bone on bone on bone
Down with the worms

And midnight’s creatures
Oozing through soil
Ancient stasis of bone on bone
Waiting, waiting, waiting alone

For the holy breath of God
To enliven bone as hard as stone
That holy sacred God-soaked wind
That renders dead bones alive again

Sewing flesh, pumping marrow
Wiping every tear of sorrow
And when this flesh is raised to life
Blood hurtles through new veins

And shadows loom across the plains
Of every man and woman born
Who suffered in a wild world

madonna

I long to roam the loam with wild women
And pursue them with my hooligan heart radiating passion
To envision each midnight maiden as an individual creation of a love-struck God
To dance with them through vast swaying fields of budding marijuana
To cuddle away my loneliness in their sensuous embrace
Vibrating the nerves that wire to my skull
With electric joy and cacophonous compassion
O women so near and yet so distant
Behind a glass wall of indifference
I spend myself to entertain your choice
To spin a flattering love with potent poems
Is all I dream to end my time alone

jesus
To worship in spirit and truth is to live through love with every person and reverence every intricate creation
Searching for the kingdom under granite rocks and down forgotten easements
I find cryptic hints everywhere I look
Especially out in the bush, deciphering eucalyptus trees as a messages from the most high
But it’s hard to pin down
Just beyond reach
Hard to get it to crystallize in the mundane sun
Hard to find eyes to see and ears to hear
Hard to bludgeon down suburban sentiments
Hard to forgive when enveloped in hate
To hear the subtle voice of God whispering through my skull
And do a joy-struck dance before the Lord of all

My Vandal Heart

Posted: June 25, 2014 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

sky
My vandal heart heaves for the broken sky,
That thunders my deficiencies to the earth,
That sky that hides a heaven in its circle,
Obscures God’s throne from my unyielding eye.

My pilgrim soul is eager for the way,
That winnows the dreams of the drunken saints,
And appreciates that we are made of dust.
My spirit aches to know of blazing days.

And when I’m drunk or stoned or lost in love,
That prodigal God is still a near companion,
For a lost and ragamuffin mob of shiftless souls,
Who will meet He who comes down from above.