I love Syd Barrett
I hate Mr. Rogers- “its a beautiful day in the neighborhood”
you know what-it’s not a beautiful day in the neigborhood
know what-the neighborhood is a ghetto
and I have to press a cold beer between my legs to numb myself-
to deal with these cards that you dealt me-oh joker-in the pack of non-sense
I read a wonderful book this winter-written by a fashion model
It was always a stereotype-only a stereotype that fashion models have no brains
You know- they have lots of brains-how else can you walk that runway-
over and over again
for pompous envious ticks who drool all over their cheap designer shoes
know what Elvis impersonators can be real
especially when they grow up aware of transparency
aware of duality
when their fathers are alchemist and their mothers are anarchist.
when they come home with their friends
and their is chemistry brewing on the bunson burner in the kitchen
and yet we forever read scriptures and the Tripitaka
as though it will answer the questions and align us better with nature
of what we can’t admit that we are.
is only the beginning of an evolusion that contorts us
and sucks our EGO into a black hole
spitting us out across the border
(did they ever check my passport thoroughly enough-discover who I really was-
in this bottomless spiral)
Will I ever emerge from this immersion of senselessness-
keep me in the black hole please
the white hole seems too elite and pompous
for my taste..
what is judgement?
I don’t want to judge you