Do The Birds Pay Taxes?
The spirit weeps
for the caged soul.
I still feel the fire
so that's good.
More burning and looting to come
thanks to this hopeless heretic.
The sickness never ceases,
but spreads like the moss in my yard
as I sit and witness the maturity of the birds
chirping and gliding, freely.
We humans, the beginner souls, the terminally ill,
batten down the doors further on our own gulag.
We secure it, repeatedly
every 50 years or so
adding layer upon layer.
Every weapon created
annihilates a little bit more sanity
crushing our hope
and on and on it goes.
I just try my best to be that peace which I seek,
treating my self and all living beings the best I can.
The word nourishes the flames inside;
Raging and wild, yet peaceful and innocent.
I wrote this little blurb or poem earlier this year to go with this song I did entitled "Odyssey" .. a track off my album "Innerview" which can be found here: https://jonjon7.bandcamp.com/album/innerview
With love,
John :)
