The Reed Flute and The Library (in @ parts)

Uno
CHORUS: The words said
live in their own
worlds, voices
swirl like honey, while
I'm all lost in the library, and
they are real. Eggs
laid, seeds planted,
let them grow!

RUMI SAYS!
Body flowing
out of spirit,
spirit up
from the
body, but it's
not given
to us
to see
love
the sea
that
is
our soul. The
reed flute, friends,
the reed
flute
is fire.

Not wind.

Be that

empty.

I SAY!

The reed flute is fire, I'm fire, destroy

destroy empty lawn chair Bob Dylan go to hell

empty I need to be empty the tar in

my lungs need to leave, the lungs need

to leave, the heart must leave the body 

must leave, there should be nothing

so then I can be filled with everything

everything.

Everything

that might

HENRY CHINASKI SAYS!

be me

or God or you

or people

or the devil

or christ but then, all
I'm
really actually
gonna do
is sit here
while
the ants
crawl on
me writing
poems like
a stupid
sonofabitch
and get drunk
and maybe
she'll fuck me
tomorrow.

Dos.
The alchemist sat in his brass chair
and took the ivory figure of a horse
and set it on the table top.
Alchemist you are, if your name
is Daniel Abdal Moore.

ALCHEMIST SAYS!
I drank rainwater collected in a trumpet
flower and saw a youth dressed in leaves
gazing with love on everything around Him
extolling God in a voice the hibiscus flowers
could adequately hear!

I SAY!

The Alchemist's dark laboratory off Moulton Street

can by no means win over yours,

your heart brews pneumatic

songs, if you read Tolkien

you'd know the universe

was made

by music, I say

the

reed flute's

music

is the universe

in song.

LORD OF THE FLIES SAYS!

Boron Born and hermetically fed up,

burned everything but manuscripts,

especially subversive politics and pigs with lipstick

It isn't like Bloods and the Crips,
no, it's me muthafucka, hanging on a stick!
Oink oink I'm a pig on a stick
grinning like Stalin to his kids,
flies in the mouth just for kicks!
RAW! Does it scare ya, you little bitch!
Voices be messing up your head all up in this shit!
Luck brings you up and then puts you in a fit,
Come here, baby, kiss my lips,
or burn in hellfire, dead in a ditch.

CHORUS:

The voices cry out dying

foxes, cunning malicious stoic

haunting voices make us all

shiver in the library.

The library isn't covered in
ants but maybe, just mabye,
it talks to you too. It should
haunt you too.