Hallowed be the psychedelic rendered sky above,
And gratitude to mother earth; our keepsake.
Stars perch like holes on the solid black draper.

And if you peep through them; you will see them:
All the faceless creatures and their fiefdom.
Come to me on this midnight; let’s kill the clock.

Listen to the crickets it’s their time; hoping in merry.
And the city lights are still crowds; isn’t this beautiful?

All the people who judge us and those that despise us are a little dead
Their reproachful eyes blinded by their own flesh and buried beneath cotton, linen and silk.

The only things that watch us are gentle and faceless, they are prudent so let us be us.
Do whatever pleases you, allow the hysterical laughter and scream when there is rain.

This is the time, the only time we can purchase lunacy,
And here comes the wishing breeze.

A poem by Tonny Wandella