Oak McIlwain

Picnics are fun when women run, naked into the flames
Glorified, I almost died when I saw the snake clearly
Scales and all. Standing tall upon the altar
Give her a set of wings; Set aflame her holy halo

A journey that starts at the base
Working in dismay all the way up through the crust
I’ve told a lie; so boldly. I’ve begun to cry; dissolving slowly.
It’s just a mix you know. Whatever has been will come again.
In miracles we must trust.

Governed by the demons is the part in me most true.
For I in me is I in you.
Guaranteed a peaceful end. There is no need to pretend
Creatures all, great and small come to bathe beneath my hollows.
The one that sees; truly free, Is the one that never follows.

In the middle of an endless field
The picnic rug becomes a shield
Against this harsh and terrible world

A world of eyes it has become.
A world where no one sees the sun.
It’s time to turn away,
From the rug,
From the field,
From the endless stream of nonsense
Dripping from the dark hole in the guts of humanity.

An open heart will dance and sing. Any beggar can now be king.