For the Lost


I have too much love,

It’s time for some hate.

Hate for others and myelf,

hate for the lovers who walk

down main streets blanketed in alcoholic frenzies,

walking down main streets oblivious to us lost souls.

Walking, walking, forever walking,

while loveless bums scrabble for cigarettes,

for booze, for freedom, for the lives they’ve left.

I envy the homeless, the vagabonds on skid row.

They have nothing and are free.

Free from the capitalistic dreams forced on the masses.

Their minds may be riddled with escapisms,

but they made it,

jumped the iron bars of society,

leapt from the shackles that hold us all down.

Who but the mindless masses hold us back,

from what we as humans can achieve,

Who but the mindless masses are high,

on the fumes of progress.

Drunk on propaganda, opium, and poppy seed bagels.

Hallucinating on black gold dreams.

Eating mushrooms to find their God or Gods,

that answer no prayers, indian givers.

This is for the lost,

who hold my envy, at least they have set out

on the trail of life with nothing but their souls.

The feathers on their wings may be sparse,

but at least their wings are spread.

A butterfly is reborn,

woken from the cocoon,

risen from the ashes,

like the phoenix of New Orleans.

Drunken dreams, inebriated souls.

Kiss me on the mouth,

kiss my eyes, and inhale my soul.

I sold it to Satan, 30% off.

But I don’t need it.

I have no need for useless things.

I have no need for useless things,

I have no need for things.

I am casting of my worldly possesions.

My Sermon on the Mount.

This is for the lost,

who hold my envy,

who I will join soon, in my dreams,

in my waking.