Censor Miles Davis

Censor Miles Davis

French kissing the aware preternatural moon
In ever deepening praise of love
Of illusions frills and glamor patterns
Somewhere in the back of the mind
Thinking
But I’ll never die
Never me
They can’t keep filming without the star
Can they

Sign big on the conveyor belt called
The I know everything dotted line
Thinking it led somewhere
Convincing others it did
Making believe that it did
To push to survive as a species
Stark in the order of lunacy
The sat jivan-mukta of the dust
By warrant of unleashed genetics
Those quarantined hard wired
In a virtual reality affairs
Within just another symphony
Coming and going
And the canister is put into the vault
For a future auld lang syne encrypted eulogy
Pomp and ceremonial penitentiary’s
Bowled over with fascination
And unexpectedness being tradition
Outpoured in the world made manifest
If forever improvisational jazz
Comprehended as unwritten
Grounded down
Blown away
In its resplendence
In its cadence
In the counter-cadence of the mystery
In the mystery of its secrets
In the nectar resonance –
Enchanted rodeos
What choice do we have
But to listen
Censor God?

Next we’ll try to censor Miles Davis

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