on a spur, on a airy fairy cool aid

you sew your lips

and speak your mind, every fantasy

touches the gold dust, no longer quite gold

with the spectators eagers to drink in this delight

overwhelming, banal retreats

as euphoria reaches to a level unheard of, an

achievement don’t you think?

passions, being human is not living in one ivory tower

or program codes, executing without a shifting of legs,

wanting fresh air, left out.

like the kid that never fitted in, now grown up

he is still walking on memory’s lane,

unable to do what is whimsical.

trapped, stamped in the oblivion of having to do

as everyone else,

even when it makes no sense.

break free, chains, iron, on soul caged

in this human flesh,

and i have to be just like you

because you can, you will, you must,

sewn lips unbounded, a heart able to do

whatever it must.

soaring free, and tell me – follow the damn yellow road,

it leads to salvation

and as for you, you have lived, tasted, fulfilled

every whim that money can buy,

you say to follow truth, to follow what is right,

your always held the keys didn’t you?

what is right becomes you, the godhead,

lowering himself, prostate, with chastity unblemished

you who have tasted every delight!

delightful devil, masquerading with a peacock strut

pecking on dirt, bent low when the talk is holy fire,

the walk is a hellish dream reborn.

a dream that most try to attain and cannot,

you smirk when men get envious: see, see,

i am envious not, how you play with words,

wish i could be just like you,

to play with gold and still be sacred: such whims

die when it becomes quite obvious that earth

only has one god.