Had about 4 NDE’s
5 dumps of DMT
summing up 9 lives
we have amnesia
because the seat
of the soul
is reduced
to cyclical lows
the pineal
is what we grow
for children I came to know
at 11:11, ate bread unleavened
then closed my circuit
I paid my karmic debts
survival tactics for the best
sharing what’s been known
from the start to end of roads
because I am not a clone
jokers are what I mold
aces are what we fold
too easy flexing on image
my gold is within
let others wear it for him
hold my chain, maintain
play game but stay sane
until you not kept
by what imprisoned me
so I slept among banalities
of platitudes
of caterpillars in cocoons
children don’t emerge to soon.
NEW LEAVES ON THE OLD TREES d.i.s.c.r.e.e.t. 
Reblogged this on Dangerous Faces and commented:
Everyone carries their demon’s in a slightly different bag. Nice thing about demon’s is that they force you to create. Beautiful M.B.
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Thanks for the kind words. Thanks for following/reposting. I’m checking your blog later on my lunch break:)
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Thank you MB you will be the forward to the book. Trying to distill it any other way is like trying to force the Nile into a champagne glass.
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Hazen, that’s a nice gesture. I’m so glad you find the poem useful for such an important project. I’ll be looking out for it. Will keep in touch.
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