Saturday, March 31, 2012

HOW HIGH THE HOLY TEMPLE?!

Climb into the sky,
but only with your heart.
All will be revealed,
as finished at the start.

Well, we gonna' rise up, gather, singin'
Break through, the stars are ringin',
All one, the angels wingin',
We gonna' rise up and gather, singin'!

How high the holy temple?
How high the holy temple?

Porcelain steeple, blood pumping thick.
The height of this one, a chemical trick.
Walls rest, in the shadow, of matter on thought.
And there is no lesson that was not already taught.

A thorn bush yields crown of true bone,
which merrily goes around my head.
Tender heart is worn and torn,
but I see a crack in the sun, oh ascending one,
and all the dust is dancing!
And all the dust is dancing!

How high?!
How high?!
How high the holy temple?!

How high?!
How high?!
How high the holy temple?!

THE MORNING AFTER

The morning after
Alone, alone
I was still alive
Thoughts of the
day before
tasting sicky-sweet
on a dream-parched brow
Sobriety, alike to whiskey burning,
admonished yesterday
and wobbled out
into a new one.

SCA (1-17-99)