Seasonal Affect
Disorder – A
Just sitting there again
Getting drunk
And playing
A post-apocalyptic video game
Or wait a second…..
….. Is that life I hear?
Somewhere?
Is it the Oracle calling
From the
Beckoning my return
To worship and remember
My religion
As it has been
And will be
From the early days
Till my later days?
The ecological wonderland
Is all I ever remember
I drive through the forests
Of emeralds
I visit the temple
And then wander about
Pause, Inhale, Exhale
Remain covert
Observe the dwellers
Driving home
I had to head south
She stayed up north
Closer to the goddess
She served
With her unwitting witticisms
And unsightful insights
Into the souls of cave dwellers
Like me
And her and others
All playing our post-apocalyptic video games
Dodging reality
A reality destroyed long ago
In the fires of
When we the people became
WE THE MURDERERS
And our souls were engulfed
In Primordial Flames
Inert and apathetic
We remain
We look at the pretty trees
And the lushness of the scene
Renew our fake plastic souls
The most excellent among us
Don’t need no thought control
We just need a sea of green
And a goddess to worship
And to tell us right from wrong
Sometimes
And sometimes to leave the solution
All to our own
Wits or lack thereof
She can leave orange flags in the rainforest
Path markers
To guide our holy adventure
And over time
The extras all fall away
And only the Oracle remains
In her Elfin, Natural and Radiant Beauteousness
She leaks love through her pores
The love I know exists
In the forests of the
And in the secret passageways
Connecting my soul
To my mind