The glory of The Rezin Skraper is in his peering ever closer
Straining to see the infinetesimal as if his eyes were supposed to
For encrusted in crevices slumber the molecules of Rezin
Till awoken by butane flame as by the blast furnaces of heaven
And warmed to a waxy wetness they wake to their maleable ripeness
When their true nature as lushes insight-dew oozes and boils to seduce with timeless pricelessness
As it evaporates to tendrils of twirling threads of smoke
The scent of which The Rezin Skraper wears as his Splendour Cloak
The Splendour Cloak which conceals in mystery as subtly as it dazzles intense
With its fabric of Peacock Kalaidascope Smoke offering seductive its exotic scent
Like palm frond tips streatching out to send shivers when your neck they caress
A warning whisp of smoke alerts his paperclip of its time to be blessed
As the boiling point is reached by flame licking metal of dimestore bowl
The paperclip is pried open and blessed with a new and higher soul
For objects used by the Skraper to collect the jet black slime
Are hallowed by blistered hands and find their meaning in the stream of time
And so the particles of consciousness-goo warmed and ripe for the tip of the clip's point
Cast a glance to their birth as Rezin from a long-gone roach's past life as a joint
The roach saved in a dusty overall pocket not without a hole
But managing to sleep safely there till found later and packed in the bowl
Which hung from the lips of the weary Rasta man who sweat his life into fertile soil
And worked land with his bones and soaked sun with his skin as he blazed high abbove his toil.
* * *
(I am not above smoking resin)
Straining to see the infinetesimal as if his eyes were supposed to
For encrusted in crevices slumber the molecules of Rezin
Till awoken by butane flame as by the blast furnaces of heaven
And warmed to a waxy wetness they wake to their maleable ripeness
When their true nature as lushes insight-dew oozes and boils to seduce with timeless pricelessness
As it evaporates to tendrils of twirling threads of smoke
The scent of which The Rezin Skraper wears as his Splendour Cloak
The Splendour Cloak which conceals in mystery as subtly as it dazzles intense
With its fabric of Peacock Kalaidascope Smoke offering seductive its exotic scent
Like palm frond tips streatching out to send shivers when your neck they caress
A warning whisp of smoke alerts his paperclip of its time to be blessed
As the boiling point is reached by flame licking metal of dimestore bowl
The paperclip is pried open and blessed with a new and higher soul
For objects used by the Skraper to collect the jet black slime
Are hallowed by blistered hands and find their meaning in the stream of time
And so the particles of consciousness-goo warmed and ripe for the tip of the clip's point
Cast a glance to their birth as Rezin from a long-gone roach's past life as a joint
The roach saved in a dusty overall pocket not without a hole
But managing to sleep safely there till found later and packed in the bowl
Which hung from the lips of the weary Rasta man who sweat his life into fertile soil
And worked land with his bones and soaked sun with his skin as he blazed high abbove his toil.
* * *
(I am not above smoking resin)
