Faces of Moksha Part IV

Discussion in 'Poetry' started by Spaceboy13, May 18, 2007.

  1. Spaceboy13

    Spaceboy13 Member

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    Part IV

    Neon moss growing infectiously over my doubted pages of rantings

    Untouched forests of rapturess quakings and second comings of the messiah

    Scrupulous Chinese art and monestaries humming the steady hum of cicadas and locusts

    Clinging to existence to await my reincarnation of what is me, sustaining the laws of karma

    Crystal faced and sucking down the midnight rain as it washes away the unclean impulses

    Raging blood flowing thru my figure and short lived adrenaline movements

    Bullet trains staggering thru the mountainous tracks of the snow blanketed Tibet

    Prayer wheels have stopped for the time being

    Monks have dawned on their last thought for the hour

    Evening hour journeys to far distant unknown realms of bliss and Nirvana

    Sitting thru the hours of thoughtless slumbers and spells of mind blockage

    I have forever seen the answer and evade the retreating to another

    Death and life synchronizing the time of purgatorial endurance

    Stemming out among the masses of editorial caresses and the jingle of steel caged minds

    Forgotten streets in the illuminated cities, festering with Negroes and addicts

    Grey run down grime of sewage and unused tar insulating the weak

    Helplessly trotting the inferior, the unusual, the abnormal

    If I could push my soul outwards and saturate your body with love and stillness

    Embodied personnel sending and receiving complex puzzle recognitions

    Swaying towards the pastures, I have thoughts of your lonely spirit

    Melancholy days, the sun shines thru the window, my death is upon the world

    Hanging tortures in the closet and folding away the miniscule praises of yesterdays past

    Loathing my self conscious ranting and separatory angle on life and the living

    I have journeyed deep within my mind, and opened doors that should not have been even ajared

    Never to venture to those realms of sorrowful blues and warped sentiments of the earth

    Asking never shall those animosities rupture from my mouth and re open those doors

    Have you ever seen the melancholy days strolling into the living room?

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