We long to breathe pure air and drink sweet water

We long to breathe pure air and drink sweet water,
Cook and warm by clean fire, and eat good tucker.

There was a time the sacred elements spoke of god,
But we forgot that language with a passing nod.

We are fluent now with digital-techno speak,
And the natural man is a rare and bloody freak.

All our needs and wants are now wrapped in plastic,
To package and promote what makes the mind spastic.

Our thinking is like fireworks exploding in a room:
Full of weird sulfurous color celebrating doom.

Big Fist is pleased with our huge corporate success;
The few are filthy rich and the rest full of distress.

Darvish remembers the new-ancient remedy,
Of how God’s name turns great pain into comedy!





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