Easter Time Blues

Born not to worship idols of exotic
God particles or exiled beat angels
from the streets of Eden but for the
Anointed One sweating beads and
bullets of blood under olive trees in
gardens of Gethsemane no reason
no rhyme no beats on ringtones

Singing me back home for only the
lonely crying in the wilderness on
the way to pure lands of Shambala
by the light of the silvery moon by
passing Buddha om mani padhme
hum my brother and it’s Easter time
too looking for some higher ground

As cymbals crash and hopes dashed
fools rush in from the wake of the
flood in the glory of the sunshine of
your love suddenly you were there
a transfiguration of perfection from a
distance like a pilgrim, a prophet or
like a rolling stone looking for you

For truth to be set free liberty not to
be seen in people in any temple under
any other steeple but in places of the
heart where the kingdom of heaven is
now eternally on bended knee praying
for one love to sing His praises at an
altar of mind in the Palace of the Lord