[ late-night bushido ]
ain't it always the truth. everything, everywhere points in calamity and calmness towards that simple, all-enveloping, idea: that "that's just the way that it is." did john the baptist realize it? maybe as his desert dessert mind was being dished out to the masses he glimpsed it all. did billy shakes? maybe as he grasped a prop and for a moment held that poisoned foil in his hand as well as his mind. could he yet prick the demons of discontent? was there a touch, a touch i do confess? or did he hesitate? did western civilization realize it? i don't think i did until now. and maybe i don't even realize it fully yet. but it's cool when all my doubts vanish, like the invisible man in the bermuda triangle. i hear unknown, freshly antique melodies in my mind, struck silent. i burst forth in tounges and suddenly realize it's something like english... yeah, and somehow i ended up writing funnily. oh well, i'm dreaming of you, and that's enough. |
