toward the orange

[revolutionrabbit]

On the highway toward the peeled orange
abstract cubist structures rise on the horizon
we are shooting through the layers of paper air
some pieces of which are a kind of pop Sanskrit
there is no destination no direction no place
in sight only husks of fast food joints, and
gigantic desolated amusement parks of
Hollywood ghosts like spray painted holograms
we have been on this road of karma cars
for one eternity and we zip along like UFO's
the heart sky unfolds like a mantra of miles
light years pass by without any effort
gaunt bearded holy holes stand in doorways
that are what was left of shopping malls
and wave at the phantom traffic signals
we will arrive at zero point when the test symbol
at the end of time and the time of ends
becomes a cube of circles rotating in a void of now
with the Indian chief in full headdress
sitting smack dab in the center of the alien zero pow
wows we will not be passing any purple cows or
floating Jesus stations the dial on the star-gate radio

[Kailashana]

Your poem reminds me of a Hindu amusement park. The rides are free and Jesus is the ticket taker.

[revolutionrabbit]

I wrote a novel about my late 60's psychedelic days
that is like one wild on the road Dylan Disney ride
down rabbit hole through the twilight zone and
a journey to the west is best, "this is the best part of the trip" jm

Gone Hallucinogen Freeway

[mnaz]

reads like trippin' through aftermath of judgment day...

just stopped by to say i dug the ride... dug your book too. been meaning to post my impressions of it; just never got to it ...