2011/02/11

PRAXIS.. new Preacher Poem, For WUJ Vol. 2NOT VERY GOOD... TO BE HONEST

the mantra of my supernatural experiences keep me sane
remind me there is more going on here than my mind can perceive

the world a loose cloak over a timeless bit of gathered energy


astral projected after spending almost a year reading books
practicing, trying...
listening to people who said they'd flown off
without their bodies with
pitying skepticism 
feel again leaving my sick bed and flying around the house
astounded a soul could leave a body/wide awake


other bits and pieces that no drug or dream or folly or science can explain
make up my cosmology of ghosts
the logic I hold up before myself when the material becomes so dense
nothing else seems to exist

the holy one rebuffed and wounded
kept off-kilter in an endless mind maze
by secret societies
set up long ago
 to deal with the second coming

The mystical fears quantified by the scientists as they witnessed the miracles

no ready explanations for this one

they want me to be from another planet
they want me to be from a fluke in their gene pool
Wizard King
a clown, a tear, a laugh

another puppet who doesn't realize there are strings involved

a stray wandering off from the herd
missing the safety of numbers

stranded alone in deep space
Centuries away
from next contact
whistling away
the silence
puttered away days
napped and lost
waiting for life
to send invitations


to act
that are urgent and worthy... 

I am absolve myself for my sins in this life by frantically prying peoples eyes open
confessing purging
secrets are for suckers/i am not going to hide who i am
just because you can't deal with it.  Got reasons for what I do.... do you?



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