Here's to all of you, all of us, on this spinning rock, realizing a global sense of community via YouTube or MySpace, or FaceBook, or at Kozmic Avenues, or wherever you hang and haunt. Here's to all of you, overlooking our differences, finding common ground in our humanity, in our oneness, reasons to be friends across oceans, while the world seems to always be teetering on the edge of endless night.In the future, borders will no longer confine us, ideology will no longer imprison us, and our minds will be free to find the emancipating truth that beckons to us, like a candle that has already found us. This is our hour for magic. A time to be alive & to dream and weave this wonderful mystical unity into every niche and corner of our world, and to share it with everyone. The man said he wanted roses in his garden bower, dig? So let's start planting some roses. Let's create that rich Mandala. Sounds like a job for me and you.Let's still believe in the good old days, of kindness & unsporting brow. Let's forget our differences and let our friends be who they are and feel what they feel. You know, forget and allow. It's called unconditional love.You sort of reach a point in your life, when you decide that it's important to just be who you are here and now, and that money and outward signs of success really don't matter in the long run. We're all rock stars, all the time, to our friends, our children, our lovers, wives, cousins, kin. Who says you need a stadium with a massive wall of sound P.A. and thousands of screaming fans to be a rock star. What about the feast of friends? We're talking quality beats quantity here.I mean there's nothing wrong with playing concerts for thousands of people or being really successful, only that you shouldn't make that your purpose. Your purpose is here and now in the moment and the love, creativity, insight, and humility you are able to muster. For some, they are able to magnify that magic into something great like what the Doors accomplished, or what the Dead carried on for 30 years. But not everyone can be a superstar of this magnitude and even for those who do achieve such greatness, they'll be the first to tell you, "be careful what you ask for; you just might get it."So be thankful and thank the sky, today. For the rapt sunset & the wind through the trees. And remember, for all your troubles and pains, there are millions much worse off than you and me. All life is suffering and our troubles and the troubles of the world are par for the course. Try to find a reason to hope; to see the silver lining in the dark storm cloud skies.I see so much talent out there; so much creativity, it just boggles my mind. We're living in a 24/7 creative orgy. It's a hell of a time to be alive. That's my silver lining. You realize that even for talented people, in the past being successful involved a lot of luck. Now, if you are diligent you can grow yourself a worldwide audience. Finally, we are all successful if we can love ourselves and our neighbors and our enemies, as ourselves. You can't put a price tag on something like that. What's important is for all of us to participate and create; not just be passive voyeurs, letting others act out all our fantasies. It's great to have bands and idols and heroes who sing and dance and inspire us; but let them inspire you.Do you know the warm progress under the stars? Do you know we exist? Have you forgotten the keys to the Kingdom? Have you been borne yet & are you alive? Let's reinvent the gods, all the myths of the ages, Celebrate symbols from deep elder forests, [Have you forgotten the lessons of the ancient war]We need great golden copulations,The fathers are cackling in trees of the forest, Our mother is dead in the sea, Do you know we are being led to slaughters by placid admirals & that fat slow generals are getting obscene on young blood?Do you know we are ruled by T.V. The moon is a dry blood beast, Guerrilla bands are rolling numbers in the next block of green vine amassing for warfare on innocent herdsmen who are just dying,O great creator of being, grant us one more hour to perform our art & perfect our lives,The moths & atheists are doubly divine & dying, We live, we die & death not ends it, Journey we more into the Nightmare, Cling to life our passion'd flowerWe have assembled inside this ancient & insane theatre, To propagate our lust for life & flee the swarming wisdom of the streets, The barns are stormed, The windows kept, & only one of all the rest, To dance & save us, W/the divine mockery of words, Music inflames temperamentDid you know freedom exists in a school book, Did you know madmen are running our prison w/in a jail, w/in a gaol, w/in a white free protestant MaelstromWe're perched headlong on the edge of boredom, We're reaching for death on the end of a candle, We're trying for something that's already found us.They are waiting to take us into the severed garden, Do you know how pale & wanton thrillful comes death on a strange hour unannounced, unplanned for, like a scaring over-friendly guest you've brought to bed, Death makes angels of us all & gives us wings, where we had shoulders smooth as raven's clawsNo more money, no more fancy dress, This other Kingdom seems by far the best, until its other jaw reveals incest, & loose obedience to a vegetable law,I will not go, Prefer a Feast of Friends, To the Giant family.
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