Treasure Island

Richard Allen Beevor

(23 March 1949 / London)


And the cymbals crash, go round and round into merry throngs,
voices heard above the din sing loud yesterdays songs,
sunshine blends to the light of nothingness in Gods power,
blazing trails across the moon, ignite the darkened hour,
every morning, every night hears echoes from the hills,
each tomorrow brings a day to recognise our ills.

Torrid flow sheet of music, notes hit the bower,
sections rise as sexual falls reside the spinal tower,
criss and cross squares are bitten by the worms of night,
into holes of pure putrescent moments of delight,
shadows stalk a lonely city where our hearts beat out,
in the stars an eye can see none that live in doubt,
news reached us from the canyon guided by hand,
Christ comes to take the reins of our wayward band.

In daylight of our ignorance they come to free us,
into death as horses charge an army we must trust,
they are stranded by waters deep and clear as frosted glass,
the trials and tribulations very soon we pass,
given once a chance to see in Krishna's way,
we decided to repress thoughts must be the game to play,
in the world people starving became mental blind,
after the path was lost our spirits now we bind.

Then a new age came,1900 led the way,
here to answer our problems giving a new day,
do not be hindered, don't hold back, do as you wish,
go forth and stand in the light of hallowed mist,
yes here we have the answer, do all you desire,
let not a fear beset your heart of death in raging fire,
take the step that leads to hell the road is wide,
just one step is all that's needed the rest remains inside,
hold hard now we are heading down, slipping to the abyss,
what happened to the problems answer we had guessed,
there can only be two ways, to repress or to do,
but none have seen the third way the Buddha gave to you,
to those who refuse to admit a mortal human desire,
you give that desire strength to rise a thousand times higher,
and in the end of all mental repression,
you find yourself locked in cells of depression.

To those who take the step to hell, a road very wide,
giving way to all desires leads the soul inside,
for you and suffering that you cause, then to suffer is your fate,
you will not see the truth until it is too late,
to those who find the true way along the middle path,
to acknowledge desires brings satisfaction, cause the soul to laugh,
without the need of repression, the act of doing, just admit,
know they are there, understand if you possess the wit,
then the world would be right,
then all shall return to the light.

Submitted: Thursday, May 01, 2014
Edited: Thursday, May 01, 2014

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