Got himself a shiny new box
All wrapped up in red white ‘n blue
Here all pretty to see mama again
After he got blown apart four thousand miles away
In some desert shithole
He couldn’t even pronounce
Put back together again to see mama
Cutting the lost cause
Battling for the polluted honour
The ill-fated light moves feebly
Chopping the past that stares
into the smog-laden years
Condemn the grey shade
Slaughter of the blissful devil spreads.
an old pulp mill
wrapped in the arms of sugar maples
sweet gum
hart’s-tongue, and roseroot
white-tailed deer
the manascus
churning dark and violent
under a low, seasick sky
Walking in the royal garden,
the breeze carries
the scent of peach trees and incense,
the sound of chanting from far-away.
Granite-and-gold, multi-tiered temples
float on clouds as big as mountains.
Near the splendor of the palace,
I stroll with perfect pace and balance,
adorned in a lotus-shaped
headdress of pearls and silver.
My flute tastes like ginger and lychee
as I play a tune.
Reality cloaked in haze,
my meditation births
the essence of yin and yang.
A beautiful sunrise can only be reaped from beautiful dreams.