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narcissistic alien
in the world. sitting on mother's
lap, with a sheet of plastic under.
bowels perfumed
with juniper & body reeking
of sage.
on a direct crystal link with the
creator. i have the
power. god, supreme being, mother
nature loves ME.
i'm an elaborate pretty picture,
a complex discount
store portrait, with all my cards
lined up right. all
my feathers, furs, & pony beads
in the correct magical
sequence.
the right cosmic vibe is my ticket
to that happy
hunting ground-wild west show in
the sky. i dance the
right dance, hop-skip-skip, spin,
yell like a coyote,
& physical love will get me
an audience with the grand
shaman.
eye of navajo, skin of hopi, leg
of sioux, dash of
chippewa, & an eskimo princess
grandma thrown in for
good luck... this mystical brew
will complete my soul,
conjur direction & reverse
the counter-clockwise float
of my life, a life without purpose,
a life without
direction, a life of entertainment.
forget the beast that used to live
in these commodity
furs. my own ancestors? they're
not as quaint,
rustic & romantic as the noble
savages whose skin i
want to crawl in!
primative redmen, they don't know
what they're
missing. spirituality packaged
in shrink wrap
cellophane, gets plenty of frog
skins. buy that
cherokee sport with a multi-color
feathered dream
catcher swinging from the rearview
mirror. creator
smiles & i'm rewarded with
strength & cunning to beat
them at that indian game &
stomp them to the ground
with my fringed, beaded taos indian
moccasins.
how dare they raise their heads
from the filthy dust
to dust of earth mother? parry
with wheedling
entreaties, feigned respect, &
"we all share the same
mother earth & father sky."
you are my brothers, but
only until the amusement &
novelty of your mountain
tobacco, cigar shop existence is
gone.
salvation is not wisdom that comes
with suffering &
pain. salvation is a fashionable
bone choker.
acceptance is a place, sometimes
santa fe, sometimes
sedona. manifest destiny &
america the brave give me
the right. |
