relentless rainbows and hard-to-die facts
Posted: May 14th, 2011, 11:09 am
didn't really care about the drugs
I was addicted to dreams,
dreams that made promises
to the impossibility of impossible
I just needed a little nudge
it was damn hard to say no thanks
when the pipe of magic nonsense was passed
to me in a user-friendly cloud of godly
ambition that could cradle a mind
like a blanket of warm young maidens
coaxing molded eyes to open a little wider
see beyond the things that Mom & Dad omitted
from our "little talks", and I never tried
to recruit converts to my new preoccupation
never ridiculed their oddly mindless acceptance
of how things are done by "decent folks"
never defiantly challenged the verses
read hard and loud from the family tome
that was paraded out like a star crossed Eucharist
to point out the original blackness
that still lingered in my soul, and all I was really looking for
was the wisdom of indigenous spirits that could touch
the right spots, heal the wounds of condemnation
that stuck in my ears like lightning spears thrown
by hairy invisible hands.......C'est la vie
I still use drugs, I stored them in a corner years ago
for later use, yes I'm still a user alright, hooked
on the inks in my pens, the red drugs, the blues
the bic drugs, the cross drugs, the black ones
the green ones, I inject them all into pure yellow paper
sometimes transfuse them onto a gray screen
I was addicted to dreams,
dreams that made promises
to the impossibility of impossible
I just needed a little nudge
it was damn hard to say no thanks
when the pipe of magic nonsense was passed
to me in a user-friendly cloud of godly
ambition that could cradle a mind
like a blanket of warm young maidens
coaxing molded eyes to open a little wider
see beyond the things that Mom & Dad omitted
from our "little talks", and I never tried
to recruit converts to my new preoccupation
never ridiculed their oddly mindless acceptance
of how things are done by "decent folks"
never defiantly challenged the verses
read hard and loud from the family tome
that was paraded out like a star crossed Eucharist
to point out the original blackness
that still lingered in my soul, and all I was really looking for
was the wisdom of indigenous spirits that could touch
the right spots, heal the wounds of condemnation
that stuck in my ears like lightning spears thrown
by hairy invisible hands.......C'est la vie
I still use drugs, I stored them in a corner years ago
for later use, yes I'm still a user alright, hooked
on the inks in my pens, the red drugs, the blues
the bic drugs, the cross drugs, the black ones
the green ones, I inject them all into pure yellow paper
sometimes transfuse them onto a gray screen
