Song of Our Selves
(For John
Lennon, Ed Sanders, Vicky Edmonds, Beaver Chief & Michael McClure.)
Our natural desire is to
sing.
Our natural desire is to
sing.
Our natural desire is to
sing.
The roar
of the Rebel Lion.
Growl of
the
Coltrane's
tenor wail.
Lady Day's moan piercing
smoke, pain & smack.
Drip of the faucet in steel
sink.
Reincarnation of Lakshmi, burning
a trail of Nag Champa fortelling
fortunes.
Your fingers grazing
the base
of my spine.
This all gravity of human
desire
hot as the
on Venus.
Moving with the pressure of
entropy,
the young man sings.
Sudden as the velocity of
Indy,
teacher goddess forges new paths
through blizzards of pain
and denial of incest, and
sings.
Up though paternal ridicule
the poet madman sings.
With the power of water
slice patient though rock,
tenacious as indigenous growth
pop through cracks in city skin
the song takes root and wails.
Our natural desire is to
sing.
Monk's fat fingers - no compromise -
make ivories sing. Zappa's
torrid instrumental genius
meets stratocaster
strings, and sings.
Miles' muted roar, into the
centuries
it sings.
Deny us your song - betray
your soul.
Defy gravity and postpone
experiments
in Buddha-hood for another
spin
on the karmic wheel, but YOU
WILL SING.
Moon rise -
Little Sister spits ash -
coyote steals and eats Yuma God
heart,
you sing. Bullet fells a Beatle
yet we imagine no religion
we Give Him
Some Truth
we Give
Peace a Chance
and we sing.
Jails can't contain the
spirit of a shaman.
The planet spins, we hear
the ancient
Dreamer's Song and we sing.
We fight narcotic vapors.
Breathe in polluted stench
of greed's by-product
& belch a steel guitar
sermon.
Blues our
alchemical urge.
Our dirge. We sing.
We burn in the ovens of
return as spirits and sing.
Meet the business end
of
we persevere and sing.
Vaporized in a
yet into the generations our
song is heard.
The dogs of racism are
released,
we overcome and with lusty
voice we wail our
eternal song
make
ripples in the
universal pond, each tiny
wave a note in our divine
number.
We plot in the rebel café
a new form of thinking
of being of living.
An end to all
suffering.
We drop the steel,
call off the revolution
begin to feel the evolution
of sentient beings, and sing.
Our termination of desire
manifests as fire of
the Ancient Soul unbound,
we lift off the ground
AND WE SING!
peN#531
Sunday 5.10.98
@ E St S.E.