DOWN AND UP High on superpower craziness, certain men of money business just cannot afford to truly care, wealth and power mean not to share, so trans-corporate orientation of an up-tight profit generation promotes a Rush of declamation, such tele-vicious vituperation contorting the very words in use for pandemic commercial abuse of mind, body, soil, water and air, burdens of reality so hard to bear when even friends pollute the cause of communal faith in egalitarian laws, slowly slipping a privileged class in the back door to this house of glass, holding tight each invisable twin whose private account or wealthy kin inspires devotion to the annual worth of a "happy life" on this dying Earth, but I wonder why, since we treat her thus, poor Jupiter took the hit for us? Could a few more years of primal time somehow publish such evocative rhyme, revealing to all each lifelong goal that Nature can free this life-locked soul from fear and desire too mad and bloody, joy to be more than a physical body, wretched sins somehow forgiven in nonreligious mysterious heaven, a final oobe rising above on timeless waves of shining love?

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