the icing on the rotten cake

the icing on the rotten cake
(a poem of rejuvenation and halo healerings)

some therapists will tell you
that healing's got no place
just iron a wee bit faster, ooh
and ignore that dreamscape scarey face

and don't become engrossed
in the whelm of when you was wee
nor expand your emotional coasts:
won't help, won't undo, won't set free....

but i'm jus here to tell you
that's mazola crapola payola spewing their lips
like a white spruce, their wise domes would fell you
and make cellulose and fructose from the pulp and the wood chips