Posted by: zebbook | April 4, 2012

Fellowship

Let us dance,
To the rhythm of momentary jive.
Let us jump and sing,
To the rhythm of breathing fire.

Let us pour libations,
To the memories of our unfathomable misfortunes.
Let us toast liquor,
To the anecdotes of our monumental miseries.

The drum can speak in tongue,
Till the spirit baptizes us all.
Please stand up the jester,
And amuse us with the jokes of our folly.

What a happy funeral for us all,
We can do it just our way.
Here status is puff up in smokes,
Everybody is equal in the brotherhood.

Let the devil piss,
If the taper runs short of sweet ooze from palm.
Gyration will flow till the night is gone,
After all with these a trip is won.

Punk and monk chooses well their fun,
As gas runs, breathing lives will soon be gone.
Come on, off your shoes as you join the fellowship,
The fire is burning and the smoke is rising on this dirty ground.

(Image courtesy of news.bbc.co.uk)

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