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Dragonfly Unraveling the Spirals of Time (DUST)

from Ecstatic Haze by Luna Moth

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lyrics

The feathered serpent spirals slowly through the sky and cosmologically collides with the kaleidoscopic colors of the mind through which the universe flows freely reflected from a strand of spittle on a madman's chin as he recites the Tao Te Ching in Mandarin to a flock of Great Blue Herons.

Me and Babaji went hitchhiking down Hummingbird Highway with glowworms in our bones. She said, "I wish I was an old blind black man in 1923 playing a guitar made of stone". I said, "I don't need no obsequious archaeology to teach me how to stomp and moan". She said, "I think this highway's getting too hot for my feet," stuck her thumb in the sky and she was gone.

I once knew a bearded and bespectacled beatnik who spoke only in Iambic Pentameter. He said, "My man, think of this lifetime as a novel, yourself a secondary character. There are no plotlines or protagonists, just a big mad static screen illusion".

My old man's old man's old man's old man's old man's old man was a prisoner of the king and the king was a prisoner to his kingdom, and the kingdom was a prisoner of history. So my old man's old man's old man's old man'd old man's old man's old man said to the king, "you can break this chain of continuity as soon as you realize that time moves in a spiral, not a line".

I know a woman with a tattoo of a haiku. She's got the IQ of a mystic. She brews oolong on the new moon in a ring of mushrooms, and she's a guru of linguistics. I ask her, "What's the meaning of the universe?" And she says, "Fiddlesticks".

The city lights scatter like dust spores on the breeze and float through the night sky hypnotically. Some rise to mingle with the infinity of stars. Some settle on the quiet sea. The city now illuminated only by moonlight, and everybody's dancing in slow motion.

A static bird in an electric tree sings psychedelic melodies while La Malinche weaves a blanket from a blind man's beard floating downstream on a mu[stard seed and Brother Junebug writes the last line of his prophecy: "The prehistoric mind of humankind will not be limited by these simplistic sensibilities".

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from Ecstatic Haze, released September 17, 2009

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Luna Moth Arcata, California

Entheogenic love mantras/surfing into dissonance

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