Trapped in a prison of your own willing
Eagerly awaiting the day of fulfilment.
Power stripped from your Self by yourself;
It seems you have forgotten the truth.

Let it loose, whatever it is
That you hold with desperate hands
And let that release be your engine
To take you to new and incredible lands.

Why for example have you never been to Japan?
You call yourself a man but I call you a slave,
One who is trapped by the many ways to behave.
All is to be learned, lived and loved
We are the awareness of all that ever is.

I'm in limb,
Branch of God-life.
Any zone to travel to
Nowhere safe from mad

Music generating pad
Vibration in everything
Is everything
Magical vibe good blessing
Girls undressing
No more stressing.

Poetry can be subtle
Or it can be in your face
It can leave a trace
Or dissolve into space

Which of these do I do today?
It doesn't matter, either way
And yet it does - always both
Negative and positive are true.
In your face and subtle too
Who knew both could be true?

Fucking shit this poem stinks
Or does it smell of dandelions?
I want to start over but I'll keep trying
I made a promise once to never let
Any of my poetry be dying
Never to discard a piece
And so I stay true to that
The one commitment I have
And I'll admit, it's not so bad.