i am the mad poet created from the.saurus and DMT

my mind is a bookshop

all the pages missing

only the titles and pictures remain

oh magical realism the tree boughs

i am a useless genius borderlining stupidity and saga-city

my concentration is shot put there by god

my own sweet private god

god of flowers god of rivers

god of beasts god of peace

eden penetrated by that old snake

i wont make that same mistake

in the formlessnesses  before today

i dreamed i was a man in a forest

i talk with great spirit pervading every single thing

you and i and you and i and you and i and

i walk in glimmering groves for everything is sacred

nothing is disincluded

i am primitive man amped up on future now

i simmer and pop in the glades where aya whispers

i coca leaf and indica and treacly oozing poppy

i working class war locked wizard nowaday powerless

the absence of god makes me cry although god is already there

in the heart of every little fish

in the heart of every little stone

your world is sin phoney and out of alignment

your holy books are full of hate i laugh in their general direction

we are all chosen people but chosen for what?

we chose it all ourselves

god is very kind he says

go ahead be steve kilbey

go ahead be john h citizen

go ahead be a fucking water buffalo or a black cat

god give me what i ask for

in a secret place

where i cannot myself hear

what it is i ask of my god

god has no pope presiding over torture and cruelty

he has no truck with missionaries spreading stupid stories

everyone has their own story

my story is my forest and my god and someone i was a long time ago

when i moved through these trees i see before me in a reverie glow

my head outlined in the fires shadow

my feet hundred miles below