This is your
rite of passage
It’s many
yet one
Avalon,
Nirvana,
Asgard,
Jannah, Valhalla
Conscience,
karma
its Plato,
Alan Watts, Jesus, Budha, Allah
to lighten
things up there’s this
saying from the inuit
Perhaps
they’re not stars, but openings in heaven
where the
love of our lost ones pours through
and shines
down upon us
to let us
know they are happy.
Let me
explain, take me in
You‘re a
tall drink of water
and that’s
pretty useful
But of you
there’s
more than a handful
You look
back, reflect, take in
and come
day or night
are prone
to mood swings
and you
might know,
only dead
fish go with the flow
I, am a
moonshine still
Mash within
and yeah that’s corny
But I boil
and burn
Cook up
something 80 proof
I am
ethereal
pass my
shine around at will
the fuzzy
feeling of a thousand arms
sweeps you
off your feet
Burn at
night but when the sun’s out,
simmer and
sit still behind the porch
cooking up
ideas as fuel for my pilot light
What I
taste like, you ask?
Copper,
salt, dirt, sulphur,
corn or
maize if you will.
Pure
natural ingredients
and a lotta
hard work. Pass my shine around at will
We
interrupt this verse for a word from our sponsors:
Get it
while it lasts. Zeppelin moonshine.
Breaking
records since the seventies. As the youngsters would say; ‘it’s the shit, the
last hit… will have you see stars’
Made by Page
and plant, so versatile you can use it inverse.
Call to
order now. cause you cant buy or copy it. Be on the lookout, be first
Operators
are standing by.
The first
100 callers get a free novel on the discovery of heaven, a recording of Plato’s
dialogue, a map with unnamed streets, and all seasons of the Big Bang theory.
This offer might be valid for a moment or forever. No refunds.
To not
confuse falling stars with planes
cause
there’s enough plain flavors
in the city
of angels
gazing at
the Hollywood sign
where
somewhere near the fallen stars lie
so, come
see the stars, visit LA
Pass the
tinsel gated community
Its not
about staying but wanting to be
Ain’t no
moonshine stills in Beverly hills
Forget the
tour of the celebrity homes
They pass,
they fade,
they may
inspire but are a phase
unfortunately,
they are too dim for lenses to develop into a lasting image
they tried
to be stars but couldn’t handle the glare
so they had
to forfeit, give up, served their purpose all burnt up
fallen to
the floor like used solo cups
resting
neatly lined up on tiles of the walk of fame
So hitch
your wagon to a star
Make that
moon shine
you already
are water
Collect
stories and scars
Where
streets have no name, go wander
Read zodiac
signs
posted on
corners
like Taurus street and
Gemini lane
And when
you pass through parks
see the
branches strum the barred windows of clubs
in Compton and Watts
like fingers
on guitars
where Dre
and Kendrick first spat 16 bars
visit all
of them to join in the cipher
pass your
shine around and learn the steps
as the stage door beats your drum
Lest we
forget
Those
that popped their bottles and punched holes in the canopy which we deem stars
dancing
with Ziggy between Pluto and Mars
They flicker
in tune on beat like notes on staves. They pour onto us as foretold by inuit
At night
when on the corner of Hollywood
and 27th
Amy, Kurt
and Jimi play stairway to heaven
