Pluck A String

Jeseppi
6/14/75
Binghamton, New York


pluck a string
hear websters seventh collegiate vibrations
take the point out of the contrapuntal
and as you do the mombo with your mantra
don’t bend into bold inclinations
you might loose your place
and as you rest
with bars all around you
you’ll sit humming the tune you learned
at your neighborhood head health center
where a hundred thousand volts of cosmic nectar
pass through your brain
without you noticin
or batting an eye
can even see yourself die
when you're more advanced
deeply entranced
merely enhanced

is milk and honey worth the money
does he smile cause it’s funny
being prisoner of the flesh
on his way to marakesh
to buy a meershum pipe
to smoke your aromatic minds with
when they’re ripe and dried
artificially flavored and humidified
even cancer of the lip
is no match
for the cosmic trip he’s trained to place you on
when you catch it
the parapsychologic affliction
of the overtamed
paper trained
fine brained enlightened

and so a time when your vice is overpriced
when old ladies expecting antichrist
at thirteen to appear
then go and hide
and come back again
and win from them
their next of kin
harsh competition
and so bummed outta the race
of not being believed
yet begreived by the mess
they stand in witness
to the real lord
who speaks profoundly to the simple
who cannot express the truth they live
like you can
on your four hundred and fifty dollar
red metal flaked dulcimer
that you will play for him near his bed
with six six six embossed on you head
and the real god who was dead
will resurrect for the last time
but it’ll be just mime this time
not jazz that you hear or you don’t
you’ll see it or you won’t
like where the oil is really coming from
and you will try to buy your salvation
with a petrodollar
but there will be no sale
'cause the one who does the selling
may be the jew again
and the ones who do the buying
may be non catholics
and get thrown to the communists
as the jews get their visas
and fellinni discovers the real implications
about his roma
gateway to the new world
where visions of johanna
are only sung of
not seen of
by all those looking to escape their confusion
through a transfusion
into a new vain of inspiration
which turns out to be coal
and gets sold again
for another petrodollar
over the counter
or out in the sun
where the yogis sit
sipping linen strips
and hyperventilating off words
meant to cue them back into the groove
as the big disk spins
and everything just happens to be
or not to be
depending upon the question
and which generation
does the asking