Maybe It Will Sell Well In India

a mix of fiction story and philosophical poetry from June 2008

Beatdown and bleeting,
I can feel your heart beat,
Brokedown and seeing,
I can feel your inner heat.

"Ahhhhh this sucks..." said Ret McVernon. "I can do better!"

Heaven fell below the shores,
Angels with dust ever pour,
Overflow the goblet with desire,
Spark in me forbidden fire.

"D****T! Where is my Yah darned head tonight!"

Round wheels overturn like regimes in decline,
I can see through the window that everythign is fine.
The house it burns up high, fire all around,
Staring out the window, the girl doesn't hear a sound.

"Always so morbid, think happy thoughts! Think Freeform..."

Clouds slide round my head,
Flirting in its sweet innocense,
Paired, Broken, Repaired,
Birth, Death, Rebirth.

"My boy, you've got something working here... but perchance a bit different."

Like when we are born, we are paired,
And just like we all die, we are broken,
But is there a way to reincarnate?
Is there a way to repair this heart?

Lovely is the smell of Rosalyn in the morning,
Legs and arms lost and searching,
Grabbing on to some forbidden fruit,
Holding on as if its the only truth.

I hastily unleash my fleshly serpeant
Upon the waters of the delta of your nile,
Let it swim to the banks of desire,
Let its poison taste sweet and mild.

Fluttering down the cave of delight,
Inside there are fireworks about to ignite.
Let me be the brave adventurer,
Who will light your cosmic fuse.

Choose who and how you abuse,
Refuse, and you are doomed to be used,
This is not the way I want it,
It is the way the world makes it.

Cynic, Mystic, Fool, and Man,
All labels you can call me now.
Two plus two plus two is six,
But my mind you cannot fix.

CAT scan, DOG scan, Ferret and Rabbit,
I can't quit you, your my number one habbit.
Use me then, for I cannot abuse such a flower,
Over me there looms that dark feminine power.

Ward me, bound me, turn me, break me,
For once we were paired, now broken,
But I shall be reborn, just wait and see,
Our reward, our rebound, our return, our repair.

Your loss is my gain, much love I shall attain,
With you or better without you,
I don't know, do you know the answer?
I think you'd make a mighty fine dancer.

Embrace the absurd to comprehend the plain,
Call me Sidartha while you sing "Sweet Jane",
Give me a pen and a fistful of kleenex,
I'll write you a dream in a matter of time.

Lucid dream, milky cream, power of steam,
Engine hot, blood is boiling, head is cool,
Blue mysts of hell cover the tomb,
Flashing eyes, entertaining song, cold reminder.

Death is long and cold like the unmoving mover,
The unshaking shaker, the unstripping stripper,
The unsalted saltine cracker, the untamed tamer,
The unnamed namer, the cosmic felator.

Build me an elevator to the bright side of the moon,
And the secret of life I'll share with you very soon,
Perform the ritual and raise the orbs of light,
Engage the mind, eliminate fright, its time to wake up.

Elevator dings, eyelids pop open, returning to life,
Sleep of death hath past over, groggy, head ache,
Tiny baby hands, giants all about, everything is loud,
The ultimate journey I have made, I want hash.

Reincarnation is disenchanting, strange people who neglect,
They give me a new name of Hubert or Patricia, I can't recall,
Mind is so small, consciousness confined like an ape,
My tongue will not work, not even for kissing.

Re-taught, re-trained, re-lived, before re-died.
Cycles pass through like wheels that turn,
Turn baby, turn, its a disco inferno,
For every turn there is a return, or so I've relearned.

And now I am back, and in love again,
Will it go better this time around?
With our hearts once paired,
This time prove to be fully repaired?

"D****T, getting to philosophical with all this reincarnation crap! I'm alienating 90% of America... maybe it'll sell well in India."