THE OTHER SIDE OF LIFE AND A LITTLE SLICE OF MINE

Bring me to the other side of my mind, where things are no longer black and white. Hey god, you devil, you bastard, I am speaking to all of you again. I am neither of your friends, so your promises of heaven and hell to me try not to sell my soul is mine, and it is not for sale for this life. I want to see colors like van Gogh and Dali art.

Bring me to the other side of my mind a game of truth or dare. I want to dance like the great Fred Astairaire while staring into Ginger Rogers eyes and making love on the dance floor for the crowd to adore wanting more.

This brings me to the other side of my mind where even my mama looks me in the eyes, and she doesn't notice the boy who turned into this man who used to hold her hand while crossing the street. Now, we seem like strangers whenever we meet.

It brings me to the other side of my mind, where I sit with a joint and whiskey on the table, writing my following poem. Still, I am no Charles Bukowski, noticing the cracks in my thoughts and the poetry I have been writing lately with the crazed look of Charles Manson in my eyes and the love of Dalai lama in my heart. I want to be a great army general like Patton and win the war on the other side of life, and a little slice of mine.