Race for the Crystal Skull

The Crystal Skull was cut across the grain
Thought it was their god, and treated it the same
No human hands made the relic of the cave
It would’ve shattered as chain on brave.

Welcome to the city of supreme beings,
I’m sure you’ve seen how sausages are made
Factory farmer fallen behind the tour group line
We stare into the void that guides the mind.

We don’t hide here or needs remind us.
We are the word written and spoken, awoken
The form follows the function, but why?
Or why not, am I right? Is anything possible a lie?

Not just anything anytime you want to be.
Only specific, particular things are happening.
Automatic writing, our lives in history shown.
Read aloud, that’s a grown up thing to do.

We once courted ladies in verse and now
We settle in court, or private browser mode.
Kicked over the castles built on a sandy road,
We used to woo her and wow her and now we just cower

I fire the main dish and plot a course westward
for unknown shores, a wake from the meme wars,
The bards, the jesters, the fools and the game testers,
the evangelists, protestors, the sidewalk and stadium whores.

We are not the sorry-but-I-did-my-best-ers,
We are the whole heart, the all investors
We are the tribe of truth sayers
My dear hunters, the bloody roulette players.

We praise without pronouncing the name,
We tease without shame, teach without blame.
We find nothing missing, no time or place,
We are the wilderness willing to be tame.

All the Beauty and Beasts

Take it easy, take it, ease. I live with you. In the same world as your duodenum and your vanity and the cat on your lap. Here we sit with North Korean super villains in American Splendor, a perpetual render bar progressing to singularities, regressing towards the mean, the hipster fucks and bohemian brigands, politicians and instagram following sycophants, the coalition of willingness to deceive what uncommon decency, gaslight the railroad run in wallpaper patterns with swollen social vesicles, reactionary compound chemicals. Nothing is what it seems in our alternate realities, subjective interpretation of impersonation in this our most lucid of dreams.

I want to die for you it’s just taking me awhile. You can’t rush a sacrifice, the path is suffering, the path is sorrow, the path is winding through rivers of time ever in tomorrow’s past and yesterday’s schedule, nights where you wake up screaming, dawning light from under the doorway streaming Netflix, steaming veggies in your pjs, vaporizing a heavy CBD Sativa, the Spiritual Leader, Grey Bearded Singer, Dock Hand, Sinners and Saints all the same thing, a blue dot in a sunbeam, a microscopic menagerie of wise mammalian ancestry, life on earth’s rapids river, species ripples flowing over each other in woven textures, we only look different by some small percentage, but the difference matters. It all matters. It’s all matter. 

So smoke a couple joints, think for a minute, father your strength and mother your harmony, we’re only learning, we only know by doing, writing to read our minds, encountering the new crime in novels, the friendships the heartache the tantrums and fits we throw when life chucks us a what the fuck moment and so on we go to the stars; a nonesuch never before seen Pluto, a Kuiper Belt in psychic judo straddle the event horizon as it melts into a chocolate and vanilla swirl of arms akimbo in the constellation Limbo.