Journey of the mystic
is one of aloneness

stretching forth into
omnipotent nothingness

Where are stars to guide
where has ecstasy gone
shredded down a black
highway

Do you know the old you
are you someone new now

Transitioned from another time
I keep referring back to the 70's

waiting to be saved
just like being from krypton
could release our meta human
programmed deep inside us
until the ancient metamorphisis
we ran from our own freedom
believing the thoughts that killed us
ratted out of the matrix
Trapped in old programming
once the fire started

Gentle friendship saving
me once again
she treads flower Goddess
into my evening

Cures from
ancient times
Healing wounds I did not
know of

King-time waiting
biding inside resistance
for the perfect explosion

Releasing all walls
only rivering away
into a new Eden

I am the fire one
(cooled on the surface
even though you are still afraid
of the volatility you
glimpse)

If I were only a
motorcycle built of metal
plastic
speed

built to burn oxygen and
explode fuel

If I was only waiting in some
snowy garage
with infinite patience
with the potential to
go so much faster than
Jesus

Waiting patiently as love
patiently as angels
patiently as
God

You think I'm anything more
than a P-O-E-T

because I play along with your
game

I am one for the long road
waiting for the sunset I choose

What kind of emptiness
did you know me as

(nights in the black pyramids
angels sweeping up flower garlands,
we crushed so many petals
beneath our feet dancing)

If there is a Buddha
left to reach into
me

Forget the emptiness you
thought to seek

(let's go play records in
the attic back in the 70's because
the weed we smoked made it so
the v8 cars we drove
could crash through
anything

Choose the darkness
of deep adventure into
the nothingness all you
Christians are afraid of

I have no boundaries
much like the cosmos
God doesn't even know
us yet

A raven and a dove

my demon and my angel 

such a binary simplicity 

to the mythological apparatus 

of my dichotomy 

Punch through
the tiger paper wall
of things that would not
burn

(send these dreams into the
sky of places in my soul I can
no longer hide)

Stuff underneath the surface of
who I really am the fact
that we would have bled and
died to be united for just one instant

instead surviving for an infinite festering
of un-alive sadness
to prove we weren't afraid to run
away from the only
fucking thing that
really mattered

She wonders when
and why they
all
died inside

(eyelids poking through the
ethers to see smokescreens burning
digital flash singeing off
facial hair and
screaming scar tissue
is muted through the cacophony
of information
fabricated to
sell you something
new you also
can't...(answer yourself
anymore so just ignore the flames
and keep on searching infinite
waves of trivial
barbwire madness)

Soul fighter boxes
shadows
long enough to lift
a veil of smoke and
ashes it all

Seems so real but none
of metal shininess
can be transmuted to make
us feel a god
damn
thing

Step back to the time
we never faded
like some old Polaroid
behind  plastic film
a cheap photo album
she's carried around for years

All the moves
around the world
shaggy gurus smoking
one cheap cigarette
after another

(bastards) all of them
when you see what they've
done to you
(nothing but your own shadows
eating away your
brain)

The world is an apology
for our sorrow

We never forgive the shadows
even though we cast them

Yes I'm a fighter from way
back

Carry the old school on my
old back

Tatted up ragged n' Hungry

Two wheels rollin'
trying to fight my way back
to the 70's

Lost
lost
found

if you missed the answer with
me sometimes

because of the moon or
other distractions

Like the times we came out of the forest
to experience thunderstorms in
open meadows

(it's not because we were
high on acid)

It's because I loved you
and you loved
the rain

Bring back
to life everything
you've ever loved

aspects of self
converge
from: the 1970's
the future
and now

Child
man
old man

One and the same

Stone sacrifice        
smoke of the patriarchs
alone on the highway

                                 
remnants of the phoenix sparks
hit by the truck of us
she never was the same

ask her about the Indian Trails
(she won't even say my name)

sadness of leaving
the nomadic highway
stone ancestors
cave-shaman invoking
blood painted warriors

smoke to the spirits

seeker of silence
and the open road

solitary highway
(reckoning)

darkness prayers
(one on one with
god)

Momentary Christmas
(memories flood.
Default desires,
programmed)

Intricately woven
longings describe
an inculcation of
stereotypes, tv commercials
and other conditionings

Peers, locale
Time period
fashion

whatever else was
en vogue then

She is a product of
these things and her
musings

fighting to break through the
glass cage crystallized around
her

after they took
my love away

with the technicolor birds
and the pressed words on a
glossy page

and the Dj's prayers
after the television waves

Locked inside the institution for
twelve long years
the years of my youth and dreams
and vigor

(after the marijuana trances and
the LSD dances and the malt liquor
advances)

after we crashed all the free cars
big tanks of steel
broke curfew and all the suburban
taboos

The loud pipes broke open all their rules
hobo freedom and bad girl
blues

stranded on the American Highway
I found the Jewel of Montreal
emerald goddesses
gave me shelter

again and again