Please, Mister President,
let those green eyed Afghan girls harvest
the holy Papaver again, let the people run naked through
the cannabis fields and let the black smoke
stick to their beautiful bodies
let those mixed up soul singing shamans
do there highlife shows tonight.
Let the blue blooded poet
write his lonely ecstasy
in his backrooms of pain,
with a soft spike in his arm,
let the slaves have their freedom
and let them beat their pentatonic scales
let them blissfully sing
their cries for paradise.
Lets us make a library
of that little green lady plants,
let my open third eye drink famously
and flame full of wonder in my favourite bar,
let us dance naked
without those perverted vampires
you send to us,
in your dark paranoid clouds of insanity,
I don’t want to watch my back no more.
Let us believe you’re not getting too much of that spoonful,
more than you can handle
let us know you’re not in it for the money
and trying to force yourself through the eye of the needle.
it would have been easier to do if you were a camel.
Let us believe that it, just is,
and that there is nothing to gain,
give back the elements, fire, water, earth and clean air
to create a community
so we can play.

What is it that you don’t understand
about the One,
is it a certain part of your body
that don’t fits in,
tell me how do you think it has to look like
your perfect vision,
is it a word, a feeling or a material thing
that you’re searching for,
are you trying to preserve a certain value
or is it a conformation of some kind of fantasy
you had as a child,
is it a search for some kind of ancient drug
that can let you speak in tongues
maybe you found it already and you’re telling the truth
or are you waiting for the saviour to stand up
to give you a pat on the back, and tells you you’re a very good boy.
Perhaps your desire is a fine line in a fairytale book,
a leading role in a Hollywood picture played by mister Pitt,
so your grandsons and daughters can see it over and over again,
tell me please, probably I can help you to find it,
it must be here and now somewhere,
the eternal one is infinite, it looks to me that it has to include
you too,
is it crazy to say you’re also part of me.
You must have heard it somewhere along the line,
maybe from your own mother, maybe from a friend
what you’re doing to the world ,
you’re doing to the self.
In the dark ages they called it Karma
but we’re of course a little wiser now
we have the holy scripture and Jesus died for us
and lucky us we have our science
to get some relief
thank you Lord for that little blue pill
so now we don’t have to feel
that motherfucking pain no more.

(I’m tired of living from the leftovers that has gone first
through the greedy hands of the dealers you have send
to my garden of delight , the wizard)
rob2006-11-02





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