MYSTERIOUS MESSAGE

He regurgitated it all backwards, then lived it all forwards, mixing, sampling, and splicing his life’s dream history. He read life back to itself like a hari-karish-na novel and a riot act all in one. Singing, “I say can you see, I say you, say you see,” but without the music. The ritual was frightening, yet devoted and ethical. The rhythm was lyrical. It was a surgical repair with or without the ether coming one of these days, in any case. Stand up Man! dancing was OK again, this time forever, and the language of love re-emerged talking. It was a perpetual swan song that meddled and peddled its message to death. Flogging a dead horse with love, over and over and over, again. Love! Who would have thought it? Love! Say it. Love! Feel it! Love. Mean it! Love. Love. Well… Now, spread it! Now, wield it! Don’t let your WALLflOWers stand idle get up now and start re-decorating — paint the town red, you’ve earned it. Damn, man, do I have to spell it out? Something is slipping away just look around! Don’t you see it? Look behind you. It’s probably slipping there too. Your lazy vision might be just too hazy and foggy to see it, though. I’ll give you a hint — turn off your TV and start to listen, again.