UN_SON
I
and father,
orphaned
A dance known as
UpAndDown
counts later years, and
after having a ship-load
of thought
we were
near-chattering dust,
laughing
for thinking of life.
I
and father,
orphaned
A dance known as
UpAndDown
counts later years, and
after having a ship-load
of thought
we were
near-chattering dust,
laughing
for thinking of life.
candle light, rain outside, the scent not getting in
Thoughtropolis is we
A farmer said to me
even strong mental anguish can be a long long suffering
still-brown-black and derelict
with closet door about the neck,
one somewhat traveled yet not quite wet
lapping up same tired tune that drags on and on and on
composed of forsaken years piled up behind the back,
living the myth of being someone’s son,
perceived in frantic glimpses when the mind is lacking slack
Swollen whisperers behind one-way glass
laugh oily laughs and busy their hands,
mass circle jerking to invisible cash
Pleasures deluge the animal towns,
virtue washed to the periphery
and all under the purview
of the eye that always sees
It was once beautiful here,
in the Vocal Age,
and bore a different name
City of rubbishy love,
none tantalized by
naught above
Baser Satanic joy-rides await
Bastard number 1 less 2
gazes through into You
searing through exactly like
a spit piercing a living swine
Dirty diamond your suffering is mine
Sweetness faces the world,
bling spinning slowly
poised for present and future fuck
1 less 2 is not less True
We die at midnight. this death is a pun
The lungs are simply turning blue