Pink Cadillac

Pink Cadillac

From a singular brothel
To a multi-national algorithmic steeple
In a mud brick hovel
Where they grovel with a shovel
All alone
But for the people of another jungle
Voice of the soul

In accordant disarray
Mere explosions
Within the dark inspired egotistical
Power drenched midnight sky
Gross palisades
A poet trip
A train wreck
A kiss my ass
Red, white and blue
And black
For all judges who judged wrong
To pull a rickshaw
Or drive a pink Cadillac

You can die a thousand deaths in silence
But the soul
All one
Unified, inherited
Networked, mainlined
Glue of consciousness
Through the wars of pride
That hide inside each one of us
All boiling over en masse
Each one held in some slight way responsible
To pay the lust anger greed pride
And attachment realization excise tax
For believing
That only things material are real
Like the fact that you’re not here
But I feel you
Like a recently amputated appendage
Having wisps of ghosts of hopes
Of mirages of echoes and shadows
And souls
That you’re

Still in the next room

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