Jean was sitting next to me, like ghastly sins,
She would like to treat me with her hocus-pocus things,
On which I was never keen.
Then I gave her a lift to a physical, mystical festival,
For a while I saved myself from her physical.
She started to do healing, dealing for a young lady,
I said to myself, “Thank God from her I am free.”
I took caution, watched healers from far away,
I do not get a psychotic experience such as this every day.
Watching other healers and dealers who claim to be mystic,
Trying to understand what is the truth, how much of it is a trick.
I felt bit hocus-pocus with the psychotic focus,
Hoping that those near-by healers were not harming my brain,
If I lost my brain, Jean would bring me back here again.
Still a few people were somehow looking happy,
And all those books were promising life-saving therapy.
By reading their titles I had some idea,
This kind of secret, I wouldn’t like tell it to the media.
I was still trotting around and under control of my own mind,
Luckily curry sauce and mango pickles I did find,
Which made me feel a bit hungry; at least for hunger I’m free.
I started forgetting Jean’s mystical, physical therapy,
I wanted to eat a kebab and become earthly happy.
But then I saw those stone gems,
Started watching and admiring them,
And their million years-old beauty.
Getting in touch with the wonder of the earth for me is necessary,
Which is the best way to forget sub-mental people’s therapy.
Once more nature wonderfully saved my mentality,
Let God save someone else’s skin from healers like Jean.
I don’t even let the most beautiful healer kiss my chin,
With their hocus-pocus things,
Who knows where they have been?
While I was normalising myself,
A telepathic call came from Jean,
She said, “Keep in working order your most sensitive thing.”
How could I let her again get in under my skin?
A believer or not, I’m not a nut, still I say,
“God save me from argus-elenchus Jean.