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P O E S I E ![]() |
An American Prayer Do you know the warm progress Do you know we exist? Have you forgotten the keys Have you been borne yet Let's reinvent the gods, all the myths Celebrate symbols from deep elder forests [Have you forgotten the lessons We need great golden copulations The fathers are cackling in trees of the forest Our mother is dead in the sea Do you know we are being led to & that fat slow generals are getting Do you know we are ruled by T.V. The moon is a dry blood beast Guerilla bands are rolling numbers amassing for warfare on innocent herdsmen O great creator of being grant us one more hour to The moths & atheists are doubly divine We live, we die & death not ends it Journey we more into the Cling to life Cling to cunts & cocks We got our final vision Columbus' groin got We have assembled inside this ancient To propagate our lust for life The barns are stormed The windows kept & only one of all the rest To dance & save us W/ the divine mockery Music inflames temperament Where are the feasts Where is the wine resident mockery give us an hour for magic We of the purple glove We of the starling flight & velvet hour We of arabic pleasure's breed We of sundome & the night Give us a creed To believe A night of Lust Give us trust in The Night Give of color hundred hues a rich Mandala for me & you & for your silky pillowed house a head, wisdom & a bed Troubled decree Resident mockery has claimed thee We used to believe in the good old days We still receive In little ways The Things of Kindness & unsporting brow Forget & allow Did you know freedom exists Did you know madmen are w/in a jail, w/in a gaol w/in a white free protestant Maelstrom We're perched headlong We're reaching for death We're trying for something We can invent Kingdoms of our own grand purple thrones, those chairs of lust & love we must, in beds of rust Steel doors lock in prisoner's screams & muzak, AM, rocks their dreams No black men's pride to hoist the beams while mocking angels sift what seems To be a collage of magazine dust Scratched on foreheads of walls of trust This is just jail for those who must get up in the morning & fight for such unusable standards while weeping maidens show-off penury & pout ravings for a mad staff Wow, I'm sick of doubt Live in the light of certain South Cruel bindings The servants have the power dog-men & their mean women pulling poor blankets over our sailors (& where were you in our lean hour) Milking your moustache? or grinding a flower? I'm sick of dour faces Staring at me from the T.V. Tower. I want roses in my garden bower; dig? Royal babies, rubies must now replace aborted Strangers in the mud These mutants, blood-meal for the plant that's plowed They are waiting to take us into Do you know how pale & wanton thrillful like a scaring over-friendly guest you've Death makes angels of us all where we had shoulders No more money, no more fancy dress This other Kingdom seems by far the best until its other jaw reveals incest & loose obedience to a vegetable law I will not go Prefer a Feast of Friends To the Giant family |
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