The Eucharist of Samsara
The Earth drinks the blood
Eats the corporeal form
Incessant cycle
How High?
‘How high do your mighty walls go, good king’,
I had asked the king while passing him by,
‘Go see for yourself, boy, how high!’ And,
Hence I had climbed, just as he had asked,
Everything seemed clear by step 13,712,
Really I shouldn’t be asking how high, but why?
Crashing
I send the symbols crashing
Crashing in my head
I never want the release
I never want to be dead
The percussive thrashing
Sends wild thoughts flashing
Sends thoughts from pen
Into the permanence of paper
What I see
What I feel
It isn’t me
I swear
It isn’t difficult at all
To put the image on a page
To capture all the love
And let readers feel the rage
So they start to sprout
A whole world gushing out
The woes of fictional men
Caught in the fibers of the paper
And when I’m done
The chorus stops
But I never want the release
When the thought stops