Lovers ~ Before and After

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ISIS of CRISIS

It now seems
so very long ago
I travelled
that tempestuous path
blessed with
the wrath of Osiris
that led me to Har Məgīddō
where I first met Isis
the serene queen
of my karmic crisis
formed at the frenzied height
of a broken séance
that was torn from a dream
at the Mirage Oasis
where she laid in wait
greeting me in style
with her crystalline smile
“Hello Sailor!
Any port in a storm?
Come pull up a deckchair
and let’s chat for a while.”

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Evil Conspires

Evil conspires
That’s what evil
does the best
mixing a little piece
of veritas
with a whole lotta lies
It was a conspiracy
that put Jesus Christ
to death
up on the cross
A religious plot
that was then
blown apart
and thrown back
in the Devil’s face
Patience is a virtue
as Evil will continue
to scheme and conspire
often with a dangerous mix
of religion and power
but inevitably
all conspiracies backfire
Eventually the devious
will pay a heavy price
for misleading the gullible
Like an election
in a two horse race
providing the illusion
of you having a choice
only to herald in
a rising tide of trouble

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La Coco Mojo Trobada

Looking for hidden treasure
in the doing of serious leisure
at the exotic Coco Mojo bar
I’m ordering yet another
mango mojito
whilst listening to Mojo JuJu
singing her native tongue
as that Coral Sea
keeps on brightly glistening
in the tropical morning sun

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Where Beauty Resides

The bells of liberty

by your stockings rung

The deepest restraints

in my hands … undone

A ladder of splendour

slowly climbing

Your sacrament melting

upon my thirsting tongue

quenched in the ocean

of love’s perfection

Down on bended knees

lost in the tender squeeze

of your wholly communion

To ride the high tide

of hard won liberation

Yet … I’m a captive slave

to your will being done

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The Grand Artisan

God … the ultimate Artist
The supreme Scientist
The intimate presence within
and throughout this existence
Regenesis … poetry in motion
Is she masculine
or is he feminine?
Is the answer
beyond our understanding?
Are we just avatars
in a game of actual reality
Is this life
an artistic documentary
viewed through
all the agony
and the ecstasy
the triumph and the tragedy?
Have we truly
been given a free hand
by the Artisan Grand
upon the canvas of eternity?

Or are we just
rats in a laboratory?
A collection of quarks
traversing the dark?
Mere particles within
the part and parcel
of subatomic intricacy?
An infinitesimal spark
in a dimension mechanical?
Speaking of relativity
where is the power and the glory?
A perpetual quantum
crunching the numbers
in some mindless continuum
Is that the universal story?

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He Eat Dolce Vita ~ revisited

sealed with a kiss and a warrant

He fly da vulture

He stranger than danger

He swamp da monster

He got winner envy

He lose by plenty

He look orange monkey

He big sunshine faker

He red carpet bagger

He Passé da posse grabber (?)

He dat hound dog’s brother

He da Beastie’s bestie

He one mother trucker

He be Frankenstein’s baby

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