His Winged Sphinx

The bluish- green corona, my own personal tilma
I could cycle and settle anywhere along the psychedelic spinout
I clearly saw, or would I see, the original moth man
Sitting at the drape less window, transcribing his perceptions in imagery.

The near-death experience, the door leads to primate perception
The gift of pre-cognitive witness to future events in 4D space
The courtyard Banshee- queen of the underground elect
So much like many of us, does not seem to matter much to me.

Bertsie himself, was spinning out in space and time, you see
We were envisioned as the neutrals in the battle between heaven and hell
The china shop, the winged sphinx’s green porcelain museum
The burning bush, the cherub near the tree- it all made sense now to me.

The delusions of genetic tampering
Demi-god twisting and turning, no sense resisting
We are always the experimental remnants to be
What will happen has already occurred, now, and throughout the mystic dream.

David Soriano teaches chemistry at the University of Pittsburg for a living. Other details in his own words: “I enjoy the world of poetry and the people in it. I enjoy writing poems dealing with nature, time, altered states of consciousness. I also write "disjointed poetry" which I hope will develop into a unique writing style in time.”

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