Poem: Return to the Great Natural Perfection
(This poem was inspired by the love of my life, Nanou)
We live in cages called "houses,"
rarely with happy spouses,
working like slaves to buy gas to get to work,
trying to eat the delicious soup of life with a fork.
"Money don't grow on trees, ya know!"
But pure water falls from the sky,
and food does grow for free on trees. Oh...
and fresh air is made by leaves, not treaties. Sigh...
When your village is so big you can't tell the psychopaths from the saints,
consider a return to Mother Nature, free of taints.
Sayonara cyborgs, Internet, Outer Space,
Re-discover spirit, the "inner-net," the inner space,