mad hippie poet


I have been writing for 40 years my poetry is about life,death love,and redemption. after having two near death expiercences and a TBI my poetry has become more spirtual

Where do I go when the day is through and the night no longer knows what to do? I set the stars on fire with my x-ray eyes and ride the tides of the planet's heartbeats because there is another lifeform out there. I hear my voice carrying in the soundwaves and the angels keep saving my life.

There is something or someone out there I touched its hand many times and held vivid conversations no I am not fucking crazy I recall them all, it is not my God damn fault that you were conditioned not to believe further than what you see. how do you explain me a miracle of modern-day science where the hell do you think they got their ideas inside lucid dreams?

Do what you can today because no one is promised a tomorrow. another lifeform waiting to be reborn? do not tell me when we die we are dead because we are not a body but a recycled soul.

They are coming to get me, this life of mine has become a suicide or maybe a rescue mission to save what is left of me from their type of conditioning. if I must drink the kool-aid my favorite flavor is grape. is it another lifeform that will save my soul from their type of rape?