I want to believe in a world
Where ashes do not go back to ashes,
Where dust will not go back to dust,
Or into the bones
Of oblivion.

I want to believe in a world
Where hats would drop off
When the artist speaks,
Or sows together pieces
Of melancholy and precision.

Yes, I want to believe in this perfect world
Where a thought can be bought
For more than a penny,
But for a whole
Golden mine.

This world is both yours and mine,
So please believe in it,
So we can stop beating around the bush
When it comes to you and me
And art.

wandering in the west wonderland of the east
coast of  psychedelia along the northern coast
of a southern island
I came to  the perception
of me as a scorpion
tail held high prancing venomously
striking the hand  that fed me
along the willowing trails of honey nectar
the rainbow sailing sailboats in sun
colors glistening
the breathing cloud skies of blue gold
right next to a godlike creature sat I
tail up telling tales
with poison assed consequences,
making promises like a politician
was a bad trip then , until,
I saw  bodhisattva sipping brandy and being just him
along side a unicorn on a hill
outside Hollywood
I took his hand
his discipline his calm
his realm now mine. He gratefully shared.
Now this was my kind of dude.
I waited around and he melted away
and ten vestile virgins appeared in his wake.
Each more beautiful than I can say.
And we ate strawberries and flew in the sky wingless
partied on shortcake and cream and I was happy once.
A beautiful dream a memorable trip.
It opened my eyes. My senses cleansed.
I  try to live just like that.
Imaging Nirvana again, every day