That dirt on my clothes is something
To be proud of_
The oil in my hair is worth another
Gulf war for_
Those tangles that make combs redundant
Are a 1000 year old tree_
The worn shoes to 17000 chapters
Can get new soul in Calcutta_
My free virgin asshole is my way
Of saying fuck to charred hole dealings_
The holes in my jeans are freedom and
Any old bars I walk_
My skin is brown and free from age
The dirt has many tales_
The hair on my face is growth
That employers dont need to see_
Chillies for breakfast is morphine flavour
Natural start to the day_
My hard bed with mosquitos buzzing
Is trans-vision and sex calling_
My sores and puss on damaging laughs
Is a pathology in earnest_
To study the mind in Dharma Karma
Is orgasms of Picasso_
To write in wore torn country noodles
Is freedom of flight and gift_
I am singing a song
Which ends at death
But death is the eternal song