there's that
psychedelic reason
some parts of society
would call it treason
various segments of folk
gorge on searching
constantly forging here
secretly infiltrating there
inspecting odd clouds
conjecturally concluding things
looking for something hidden
under emotional rocks and stones
bringing us to the very edge
where we either fly or fall
growing revolutionary wings
with evolutionary ears to hear
those balled up
introspective tones
beneath everything mystic
cryptic hopes and dreams
God bequeaths a curious mind
blessing us with artful eyes
deep vision to know
intelligence to clearly see
what conscious dreams are relevant
this cerebral nature
accompanied with credo and spinal fluid
a rapture of fingers and toes
but with infrastructure who knows
this vital walk-about we're on
trekking through every stealth forest
crawling over bling and ringing sand dunes
unfolding where ever the free wind blows
we can nearly freely follow
stalked by the psychedelic moon
something in those pills we take
what about those unfolding drugs
selling smoke and two way mirrors
making us believe
things are somehow fake
when reality finally hits home
eventually that street cred
high society just can't take
yet high is where we all want to be
readily consuming
our psychedelic dreams
trying to steadily see
beneath every steadfast truth
so this is beastly real life
what it most often seems
those things we strive and hope for
some of them pure and good
some of them purely selfish and uncouth
when things are hard
fate totally unclear
our psychedelic dreams
can be full of immoral hate
captured and tortured by arduous fear
but if we are immortal
energy redefined by every trip
with psychic hip
when we wake
we might surely see
each marvelous flight we take
teaching us how to be
a forgiving caring nation
fulfilling psychedelic glory
instilling psychic station
where we can
truly all be free

             * * *