This Horse Needs a Rider

Reflections in a Petri Dish – March 3, 2013

Dog Poet Transmitting…….
May your noses always be cold and wet.
Oh those charity balls! It must be a whole lot of fun to ball Charity. She spreads wide, till the pink inside turns green; money, honey. Money shots and money’s got, or not got. The sheer spectacle stuns me, Billionaires, globe trotting around, lying on sumptuous lounge chairs, getting blown by the best in the business, while the world waits inline, but can’t get in at the end of the tunnel to nowhere or is that, or is that Erehwon?
Down in the brownny wine cinders of a love that will not go out. I found the shadow of doubt on my doorstep. He said I had left this bag, which he had in his hand, back at the train station that I had just come from. I pointed to the tree at the side of the house and said, “Why don’t you put it there, under the eaves of the ever-leaves. I don’t need it anymore”.
I think we are all looking at that state which I call, Doomed to Departure. Another way to say that is , knowing the end from the beginning.. Because the end will come around and I would read this one all the way to the end.
New song coming, only written a few minutes ago and only half complete but it gives me time to do this and the radio show, which I am already running late on but not really.
It comes down
like the dreams of many a lifetimes
it comes down
now down that hill
it comes down
to all of those lifetimes,
my children
you are sons and
you are daughters
brought forth born
on the sparkling waters
the unfinished dreams in the dry caverns
of your mothers and fathers
who fell down on their knees
and beat with a fury
on the ground beneath them
begging sweet Jesus
that Krishna would release
all the deva angels
so that one days special meaning
could put our fears away
on that day, on that day on that day
with the tongues of angels
and their healing fire
that we would climb that mountain
and set the cities free
We will storm the castles
all the billionaire towers
and we will drown them in flowers
and they will give us peace
we will have our weapons
all those broken rainbows
they cut like love under moonlight
we shall have our peace
from the tongues of angels
the words will follow
and stamp their feet
it is is a long time coming
but it will come like a crying wonder
because our loving mother
wants to let us go free
into the treasure ship
of the dark waters of our kindred keep
She is unchained now
oh they bound her in chains
they broke her wonder
they broke the rainbow
the shards are our weapons
we will have peace
and the the truth,rides a horse called Thunder
she comes down on the plain
naked on her steed
she will bring release
she will
give you peace
I know I know
she will give you peace
and the truth will set you free
I am that horse and she is my rider
on my back is where she will be
Wren these words above your head
let it be in this darkling night of starlight
lay down with me darling
and let these things be
It’s all crimson and clover
it’s just blood and nature
running silent in the subterranean sunlight inside our skin
they have bought and owned us
but not for ever
we are coming down that mountain
unto the shining sea
the rapture of the waters
and the cleansing dolphin
who take the terrible toxins
into the gills of agape
and the suicide dreams
of all the goddamned bankers and lawyers
and politicians and police
there’s a new pope coming cause the old one is running
He’s running for cover
but will soon discover that that there is no where to hide
I’m just a horse at the crossroads watching the lies go by
Truth is my rider
and your sons and daughters
across the waters,
they will bring you peace
it’s no longer
ancient china
some Japanese despise her
their narrow almond eyes are wider
than the channel to the Indian seas
we are joined together like a chain linked letter
as a reminder for what we needs must see
there are no humming birds coming
to the sushi restaurant in tel aviv
they like the honeysuckle wrapped
in a bloody broken knuckle smashed
into a Palestinian face
because they are the people of the book
What book would that be?
it is the book of life
go ask Dorothy about her red shoes
The Pope wears red slippers
when the pope’s nose
from the turkey Thanksgiving special delight
Is given to the chosen
some kind of accidental circumcision
It’s a choice cut from Thanksgiving
the pope’s nose and
the pope knows
the pope knows
End Transmission…..
Now the radio show next.

Source

Otherwise known as Smoking Mirrors, Les Visible provides a voiceover in a disintegrating culture as Reflections in a Petri Dish. While in his guise as Visible Origami, Les offers perspectives on the invisible forces shaping our world

Comments are closed, but trackbacks and pingbacks are open.