Jay Alejo Writes

the wheel in the sky keeps on turning

i feel the eternally burning yearning

but im still learning

smoke weed and trees between the kerning

within that eternity ever grasping and clinging

the birds are chirping and tweeting

singing about a life so small and fleeting

yet so precious yet dilapidated and leaning

to one side so i get high and give demons the side eye

like the ones appearing in my mind

that intrude and tell me why try

until i die

and then we all go to heaven

im with all beings then

chilling with my brethren

and sistren listening closely to existence

and lifting each other from out the piss stench

while on earth we live in the dirt and dig trenches

i follow craving to craving like beer cigarettes and wenches

until i get crushed beneath the pistons

this is fictive sacrilegious existence

and im missing the muse sophia’s missives

but oh well what’s the difference

some time we all gotta go

but if i leave them grieving i’ll induce some kind of gnosis

i’m not a poet

i’m a wounded beast and i show it

lick my wounds return to stick and move

with the sickest groove

until i’m big enough to flick the moon

and tilt the earth’s axis too

facts are food and sometimes bitter medicine

like i said im not a poet on top of that im not a veteran

remember when is the lowest form of conversation

remember when tony soprano said that? that’s all im saying