While maniacs run rampant, we sing songs of love. Last night Bar Lubitch, back in time, we sang velvet carpet rides and told the audience they had angels too. Band before us left their set list on stage so we just played that instead. Made up the songs on the spot and struck lightening in a corn field of imagination, popcorn abound. Hand holding with our voices and our fingers. Something like C-G-Am always fault to E-A when things are too dark to face. We kissed and we had the hiccups and Bill’s saxophone reverberates still in my mind like a subatomic particle trying to escape an atom by doing a rain dance. Well, Genties and Ladimen, we’ve spoken with the radio and they can confirm the existence of a tidal wave of splash Jazz looming for the withered broken terrorists. Listen, you fucks, allow my mother to speak for me when I say that you will know a God who’s mercy is extinguished at the sight of your pitiful delinquency. You ride on an infant energy that has been misguided from a collision, and thrust into believing that it was only represented by the moment of impact. In reality, even this concussion buffet of ancient pain stems from love. Anger and confusion bewilder us all as we stream down the cheeks on the fallen and wonder how and when we might meet their same fate. Compassion and contempt are red and black on the roulette wheel and we’re drowning broke on black so cease your gamble and play your odds at a different game, or no game at all. Put your odds aside and break even. You intruder, you terrorist, you incendiary radical cosmic thug… I know that your hurt too. You kneel in your pajamas bellow a yellow star and bleed the same as anyone. You are only as alone as your decide to be and I implore you to take a look around. Mother Nature has graced you with the gift of life and you have manipulated her into an early death, and vilipend her virtue, and you know what? She forgives you. Can you forgive her? It’s frightening to be at odds with a force as mighty as the redwood. You gentle soul, you need the most love of all. I pray for you and when you face your demons in the dark of night, I wish for you a light. I hope the eternal truth stops you in your tracks and you heed bask in the wonder of the moon, you sad poisonous hungry snake. Your fangs can be removed, and you may slither still in peace throughout the forest, if only you would bite down on stone. I am helpless to your weapons but I stand firm with mine. My words will not penetrate your skin and make you bleed. My words will not move you. But all of us? All spiritual warriors united in a majestic Om will bring you to your makers door. Your flow of fear will fade and fade and fade and fade. Goodnight facade. I sleep with the gentle vengeance of the rose, and whisper you a lullaby, my hands emanating a power that I do not understand, and my heart beating with the Himalayan timpani. When I awoke this morning, all my nose hairs had turned white.