The Tree of Knowledge

Ride the snake
And clear your head
Feel the influx of solar dread
The missing piece I take to bed
For the tantric fire that must be fed
It does not matter what is said
Language is the addiction of the dead
There is no ego where we are led
The disease of culture has made you tame and mild
But I will make you free and wild
No one sees heaven but the eyes of a child.
Because we’re back in the garden once again.
C’mon baby, eat the apple. C’mon baby, eat the apple.

Reviews

[The Archangel Gabriel]

I really like your work. Oregon is such a magnificent place. Ashland was probably the one place that I meant most to go there but never got around to doing. Oh, well. Some day!

Wonderful flow. Wonderful write!

-Gabe

[Legion]

Let it all go. Running through the forest with ones eyes close is very exhilirating (until you hit that tree). A good write. "Eat and we are gods without understanding...." Kudos.