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Laurels of A Dullard Species

Laurels of a Dullard Species
Who can claim holiness today?
all wallowing together,
netted by cyber-worlds,
locked in electro-carnal relations....

Who can claim magic blues-boy mileage today?
all rooted in chairs,
in front of electric windows,
agog with fiction-profiles,
most attractive, yet dreamed

Who can say that they are of nature and pine?
choking on petrol vines
that reach deep into their mortality,
insisting on covering their heads,
with metal sheets when they travel
abandoning their winds,
their pure air,
their true god-light as natural beings

Who can lead the life of Christ?
all inoculated,
safe from Anthrax,
safe from pollen,
heat and cold not willing or capable of Jesus' burden...
the savior of own sin,
not willing or capable of holiness...
dependent on ghosts for a fictitious salvation

Who will re-discover our humanity again?
to know the miracle again of discovering
the boundaries of Heaven as they caress the Earth
to love courageously again,
where fear of rejection and fear of ridicule
remain only for cowards
to be able to sing with angelic voices our ability
to hold one's love as holy and deserving of praise
to be consistently capable of mercy as gifted unto families,
and forget our animal desires to kill out of fear

Who will teach and live to inform?
to memorize the formulas of history and science,
so that the laws of the world do not fade
into the circuits of A-I coldness
to nurture the synapses of biological logic,
the muscle memory of algebraic strength
to build new wonders and numeric strings
to uncover those eyes that poverty has hooded,
that class and bloopers of economy would deem unworthy,
to free minds/spirits & sweep away the ache of ignorance,
the clinging holocaust of dogma,
the cults of guilt and judgment..death rides of fanaticism...freedom from mini-messiahs: Jones/Hitler/Popes/Calvin/Mao/Manson/Stalin/Castro/Regan/Putin/Hussein/Escobar/Koresch/Presley/Nixon/Hubbard/?????????? �

Who will remind us of our arts?
to drum under the influence of root and extract,
to pipe and blow into the lung-hearts of stalk and reed
to catch our images innocent in their pride, not out of ego,
but expression of self and selves,
communions of man,
to bend metal and bond,
to grind and shape, stone, oil, water,
dyes and tears of joy, shed in tribute to the bounty of God
to look back onto Leonardo, Monet,
Masters Dutch and French,
Scholars of the ash-can,
cubist and Reuben�s cherubic nudes
to paint the body, to pierce and stretch...in an effort mimicking our dream-selves,
to suffer pains invested in animal guises

Who will remind us of our humility?
When we disregard the prophets of our own nature,
the angels of our divine intent,
the seraphim chorus of pure spirit sound
the crime is consciousness without conscience,
awareness of our own apathy,
the submittal to the baser core.....
the love of the false-self...
To embrace yourself is to hold nothing,
so live while you can, not when you must
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