Epiphany

You can't have sharp ends for a knife
The irony of it runs way high
The contorted soul of a tortured angel
Deformed as a demon
Caught up in anguish
Bitter sorrow
Of a joyous tomorrow
Life slaps you
Female canine bellows
Snorts
Looting touts
Plastic emotions etched in a whiskey bottle of
Cognac spared the blues
Inhale the light
And exhale with might
He who points the way
To the mind that strays
Seek and find
Destroy no more than the brine
Filled with riches that gleam
Do you want that?
Can you excavate
The tomb of a forgotten pharoah
Who believe not in a God
THE holy Lord
Fool themselves not
Inter-galactic beings
Of skin, lime green
Descend
Present
Starts and stops and gap
Sell the covet
Wet minds of confused
State
Of being in touch
With nothing much
Just the higher consciousness
With long hours that
Hangs from the sinful
Shaven
Cut
Remove sins by the blood?
Bright not dark
Not this knight of the Chivas bottle