Afterthought.

The bongo bass line deep in vein,
a stumble upon keys almost misspelling the Christ almighty,
in body and soul and in deepest pumping Heart.

And did Mary scream when such an icon was born?
Or was she but the silent Virgin,
with all innocence and shyness and cherry red cunt?
And did Jospeh weep for his bastard child born of some infidel he knew only as 'God'?
Or did he cry out in joy for the 'miracle' of his wife's illogical pregnancy?
Or even did he cry aloud in joy for the sight of the Angel,
who was very matter-of-fact indeed.

And the drum that plays is a pulse in my brain,
a simple kick to snare,
repetition in synapse and beat,
a beautiful harmony of body and mind and soul,
with gentle vocal guides to a place that is deeper than any natural realm,
but is green and is pure and is clear.

And it is here that I am free.
And it is here that Iam Free.
And itis hear that I am free.
Andit is here thatIam fr ee.

And evrythiing I see is an ill:sion
nothing is re:lly real
an
y
more

and I'm not too sure what's up or down,
or if I know something about everything,
or everything about something,
or a little about evrything
or even evrything about nthing

And even if I am smrt,
whos to say I'm not craaaaazy?
I feel like a kite in a thunderstorm and
I am going
to
burst in to mother
fucking
flames
any
sec
ond.