Part III Redeeming mirrors blessed the carvings in the pine tree Telling visions of death and fucking Torn shreds of dignity and cheap change to spare for a lonely dietie Cars driven by drugged drivers and passengers of furry car seats licking doses and dreams Oddball stages of miracles illuminated the buildings around them They wrote volumes of prose to the gods of tranquility and happiness Squares of yellow to slide about in, hopping into the under ground world of hallucinations and uneasiness Dragging yourself thru the streets looking for a fix from a lonely man and his mongrel hound Following the path thru the carboard cities and visions of Cleveland Waning in the subterreans and disrupting their meditative fixiation on the walls and rocks Furthering their explorative attentiveness on the Godhead and enlightnment Inputs of nothingness and fallen tragedy’s into the sonik hat of whines and sparks Falling victim to the indisputable junk and dieing lonely without a single fuck Lonely telephones off the hook, begging for a dialed series of digits and dialect They whispered thoughts of stinging truth and prostitution of the souls mind Cork screw cuts and frazzled burns from cigarettes and wet ashes Knowing the odd obscenities were thrown in the waste basket full of chewed rantings and pages ripped from picture books Waiting for the game, the style, the forgotten Uttering tales of mass suicide and re occuring thoughts of schizophrenia Chanting the spells of summoning, the light creeping behind the stretched shadow of Satanic beings and apparitions Electrical stimulants mutilating the veins and nerves, pulsating figuritive word flow Small illuminated flowers shut out the tantric peace and spontaneaous prose Mercury valentines falling thru to a split dimension of shit and ignorance Bearded hippies sitting cross legged concemplating the living american statures Flightless peace attacks raging from here to the back countries of Hell Red dressed women sauntering thru bright white rooms of windows and stairs Hovering thru the clouds and microspaces of the sky, the sacred heart throbbing out of his shoulder blades and forearms
