SamadhiMuse

                          Dying highs

            It doesn't matter what you do to yourself
            it all comes to the same end;
            cafeine speeds you up,
            grass slows you down.
            The lack of sleep fogs you up
            and math clears you out.
            Its all part of the same game
            going down to where you die.

            You been running all you life...running down.
            What does it matter how you do it?
            Its just like the illusion that
            there's somewhere to get to
            There's nothing to hold onto, either.
            We're dying constantly in an endless
            progression to nowhere
            although we struggle to believe otherwise.

            We're always trapped here, in the now,
            and we fail to see it as the window it is
            into the greater truth
            with all its beginnings and endings.
            Somehow, though we're given the power
            to imagine almost anything,
            we find it the hardest to imagine the truth.

                                    gallagher
                                    13 september 76

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

         Ever receding, certain years seem to call me
         their music pulls my memories out
         and I wonder at the spans I see
         between me, now and then.
         I wasn't crazier, just more naive then.

         Imagination has few bounds
         when you know nothing of the way.
         The years churn behind me now as I enter the rapids
         and blind faith grows ever more poignant
         when I hear them on the radio.

                                    gallagher
                                    14 september 76

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

         I may be poor but I can see what I'm looking at
         when it comes time to judge where I'm at.
         Taking it serious leads me only
         to the blindness of the material world.
         What have I got to loose
         when I haven't got anything but seeing and living?

         Let me fly on what vision's mine.
         I've got nothing else but the death
         everyone else has.
         Yeah, and it's sweet to walk alone
         taking it all on.

                                 gallagher
                                 3 Oct 76

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —