Is this a new life,
Or has it been lived before?
I heard the salesman calling,
Knocking on my door,
As I defeated the notion
Of the cavalry roar;
Our history’s disclosure,
And memories of war.

These pills gave rise
To a new wave of thinking.
I have hands made to write,
And not just for drinking.
I have brand new ideas
With thoughts I’ve been linking;
New continents will form
For the land that is sinking.

No meaning is left
As I write in the dawn,
As I fall asleep
Just as the folks mow their lawn.
I have not surrendered,
To a life left still-born,
No I shall I get myself lost
In these high fields of corn.

For now I’m imprisoned
In this ****-filled detention,
As poetry clings
To my heart’s retention.
All is not gone,
In my life’s hypertension,
As I hold close to this Earth,
As I sing for ascension.