the bharma dums

trace with your finger the spiral descent / through luminous ether to loathsome ferment / i pause to reflect on the noisome carcass which lies through its teeth of the absence of flies / i breathe in the vapors of dread and defeat exuding from people who slouch through the street / i bask in the transient neon glow and listen for whispers that flow from half open windows / to eddy and curl 'round bicycles shackled to signposts / to linger briefly on faded handbills / then finally slip to the broken pavement / and congeal in the spittles of discarded tobacco / and i taste with my mind the endless grind of gears through years of neglect and decay / 'til the teeth do stumble and clockworks fumble and foundations crumble / to mix with the rain and clog up the drain with the hairs of beasts expelled from their lairs

and as i stand upon this stage / surrounded by these fine musicians who supposedly are playing jazz / what is there to justify my crass exposition of stereotypical posturing / but that gorgeous girl sitting alone at that table over there / and if i can only pretend / if i can only pretend / just pretend / just pretend / that i can give the slightest impression of the merest moiety of talent / perhaps i can score

for is this not the end of my means / the crux of my genes / the crest of my dreams / for all that it seems to astonish / encourage / amuse and abuse / engaging on sight the superficial rituals of a self-proclaimed counter-cultural society / devoted to the establishment of a glorious blackened path to a cluttered realization of biological pleasures

plainly speaking, i could use a few tokes and a good lay

and bearing in mind our medical technology / could all of the searching / perspiring / emoting / evocative purging / existential foreboding / the dredging of psychic subliminal tempest / to muddy the mythical yonic symbology / to plunge through the maelstrom of hip theatrics / with casual exegesis of all my extravagant actions / indicative of a systematic lack of chemical balance / be cured by a simple injection / bringing to this world yet another infinitesimal portion of serenity and wisdom

on the other hand / i'm not exactly certain that the human race can handle what little wisdom it currently possesses

The Circular File