Nirvana

            i’d like to be a clear soul arriving at nirvana

            immune to a million forms of outmoded dogma

            or maybe it would end like an icelandic saga

            i could die in battle and transcend to valhalla

            in the real world i don’t go anywhere special

            i drive to my workplace enveloped in metal

            when it’s all said and done i return to my dwelling

            the events of my workday are seldom worth telling

            sometimes i get this outlandish sensation

            when i’m drunk at a nightclub with no reservations

            that i could turn into vapor and ascend to the rafters

            and live in the colored mists, forever and ever

            when i fall in love it’s a typical disaster,

            a cocktail of feelings and i’m easily plastered

            the woman involved gets panicked and smothered

            and i become even sadder when i no longer have her

            but as soon as we locked eyes the saddening ended,

            the stillbirths upon which my sickness depended

            could finally sleep the way nature intended

            and give me a taste of this natural rapture

When Glassy Rocks Covered The Land

            I once got lost in a country of wimples,

            When my heart was the captive of a woman of the cloth,

            The saintly mother of anointed whispers,

            Who couldn’t deny me the heavenly covers.

            I saw her phantom in the breath of a candle,

            And couldn’t resist her immaculate druthers.

  

            We lived in the valleys of sinuous motion,

            In fuzzy meadows and sweetwater streams,

            In raspy moans and volcanic explosions,

            In tiny rivulets and plunging ravines.

            We could’ve spent a millenium thrusting,

            Entrusting the rest to an unborn queen.

            And when there were fires they were higher than temples,

            And worse than the righteous tears of a child.

            They murdered the forests and scorched every shadow,

            And they burned in our bodies right down to the marrow.

            The least just war on record to date,

            Was nothing compared to what love could create.

            Where once lay the blankets of our lush vegetation,

            There is now just a crater of treasonous waste,

            And the remnants of what spread them all over creation,

            A matterhorn fallen from vacuous space.

            When two ones wanting was too much to stand,

            And was still more when glassy rocks covered the land.