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  1. On a mission to find everyday glory, we cling to our beliefs. To protect our open secrets, we keep them under lock and key. Donning war paint, armor and sword; we defend our territories. False bravado is second nature; part of our chemistry. We expect something for nothing, neurotica to the extreme. Never daring to explore beyond our middletown dreams. The marathon has to stop at night, no available light to see. Yet as Didacts And Narpets, we hold on to this virtuality. Malignant Narcissism spreads like chain lightning. Half the world has the disease. We hide inside our subdivisions until high water makes us flee. Stuck in limbo in the twilight zone, we stare at the big wheel. Not knowing if we’re losing it, or if what we see is real. The Manhattan project bore the weapon like a mothers only son. The superconductor oblivious, to the damage he has done. We follow the big money reaching in hand over fist. The presentation of a Bacchus Plateau; too tempting to resist. I want to go the way the wind blows, watch the stars look down on me. If there’s a ghost of a chance I’ll take it, at the risk of heresy. I’m going on a headlong flight gonna fly by night. Will I roll the bones? You bet your life! Gonna stick it out. Cut to the chase. Regardless of the circumstances, I’m gonna wear my bravest face. I’m not getting any younger and I think I’m going bald. So like a modern day Tom Sawyer, it’s time to hit the road. I’m finding my way, doing the best I can. Making memories, gonna take a friend. I’m shedding my red lenses Now the future I can see. I’m going to meet my heroes when I get to YYZ I’m here again, and I need some love, won’t you be part of my epilogue We’ll gain some scars, and shed some tears. countdown our lives in dog years. Don’t ignore the vital signs, because entre nous, what you’re doing, I want to do with you. We can dance to the mystic rhythms of Der Trommler, paint the world the color of right. Play games with time and motion and bathe in the limelight. I’m gonna write you an Anthem, a madrigal, an answer to Broon’s Bane… I’ll call on the spirt of radio, to take away your pain. We’ll share a sweet miracle; panacea, one little victory. We’ll keep working them angels overtime, until the next discovery. We can travel at the speed of love, and yet make time stand still. Say a farewell to kings and follow different strings because we’re driven by freewill. Share good news first, and leave the rest beneath, between and behind. Live life outside the camera eye, forget their grand designs. There’s no need to handle with kid gloves you’re not between the wheels. So carve away the stone. You ain’t got to be nobody’s hero. Ceiling unlimited; now’s the time to start to build a peaceable kingdom, closer to the heart. You may call me faithless, because I hold on to my sins. But that’s how it is that I defy; the enemy within. Face up on an alien shore I watched red tide hide between sun and moon. Saw a ghost rider chasing a vapor trail just because he was In the mood. I felt the rays from Cygnus X-1 and drank from the fountain of lamneth I watched the necromancer cast his spell and felt the halo effect. I marveled at the natural science around me, the sea, the sky, the trees. Emotion detector on overdrive. I could feel the whole worlds needs. The spindrift slapped me in the face, letting me know who was the prime mover and presto, I knew then that I had to choose between before and after. O’ Baterista You’ve inspired me to come out of the dark. To leave la villa strangiato and take a stroll through Lakeside park. To spend time in the garden and fill the larger bowl. To take the pass to Xanadu and seek the seven cities of gold. To find a passage to Bangkok and reach the summit of Tai’ Shan. To teach my son the Analog Kid about the Digital Man. To ask the question (where’s my thing?) To hope, to animate. To tell my foes I wish them well and then to turn the page. Clockwork Angels watch the working man, the wreckers and the anarchist. While the new world man and carnies; address the main monkey business. This is an overture, a nocturne, and my soliloquy. A far cry from the things that I was brought up to believe. Like the anagram for “addicts and parents” in this prose, You can jump upon the caravan, or leave that thing alone. Earthshine; An afterimage of life’s lessons; a cold fire that can burn and freeze. A secret touch, like a distant early warning, from an Oracle: The Dream. I’m a Cinderella Man from Rivendell born on Bastille Day In the Temples of Syrinx room 2112 / Red Sector A. The body electric; out of the cradle, running at force ten I’ll keep following this dreamline, until I’m home again. With By-Tor and the Snow dog, my red barchetta, and my friends, where we can be together, for Armageddon, in the end. I’ll stand beside the totem, where I met Dionysus, and watch the grand finale; with no regrets. I’ll send one last test for echo; screaming “please now, show, don’t tell” Then I’ll follow Jacob’s ladder up to heaven? down to hell? The witch hunt will be over, the double agent exposed, and we’ll find out once and for all who was right with what they know.
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