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Milk & Honey with a touch of PCP <the dead cat edit> (Free verse) by horus8
Man,
i think this PCP
has got me scared
Every step I dare make
is another attempt to
recreate the hoodlum
Why I try ? For nay,
for nought!
<my mouth and my nostrils>
I don't dare figure out,
What this tangled mess is all about
The ink in my body art, fading
My hands are arthritic, smell
I feel old, and indecent
peacocked.
<the book of the dead>
The sun is hidden, probation
The clouds are many dead end
Their color's gray and pent
My teeth are chipped period!
My lips are dry motored
My tongue's swollen,
let me down
easy
<instrument anubis>
Sure, i'm prone to try exasperation
Pick my choice and keep your voice
Now it's time to turn around
Identify it, but let it be nameless
A hidden sound arising in waves
pulsed, i'll try anything
once, but i'll try you
never again.
<alibaster rod>
To be courageous and make a stand
To call my home this browning land
It needs some water to keep it grand
This brown and vacant flat faced span
The wagon train is at a halt
factorial now pictorial
our history
lies.
<the four children of horus>
I speak out loud to start a cult
I remove my cowboy hat
and, the rabbi get e' ups
My hair is combed
to look so flat
I am the cool,
they call me cat
But the Tom in me
has Jerried my
swagger
<the amulet of tet>
I smoked the water, cone
I've drank the earth, autonomous
Bartered my soul for all of its worth
Every evening since my beginning
Pluck that out with a yank
and put it in your
vased feather
collection.
{The second chapter, and the last.
Where our fiction becomes non
fiction, and vice versa}
<the amulet of two fingers>
Some where near a river
On the equator
In a jungle
The tribe gathers
The women chat fervently amongst themselves
as their children laugh and play nearby
Their men are sitting quietly in a circle
Relaxing the mind
Preparing the body
Gathering the spirit
<iron of the south>
The sun's daughter scratches her father's penis
Now falls the semen of the sun
Now rises the souls of men
slowed and weighted
<the power of words>
Some where near a bay
On the date line
In a city
The hippies gather
The women talk slowly to each other
Ignoring their children
Who are begging to be heard,
and tugging at their mother's sleeves
The men are all talking amongst themselves
about eachother, and one another
Each man, is trying the hardest to be the loudest
Each man, is assuming that he knows the true answer
And that the other is wrong
Stressing the mind
Abusing the body
Separating the spirit
<demon of bekhten>
The moon's son rapes his mother
Now hear her cries in the tides
Now charge your talismans, gyve
In the waxing of her sorrow
<the dream of thoth>
Her I am at the tropic of cancer
All alone within thee answer
How have we allowed
this immeasurable separation to occur ?
We have our shopping carts, and they have their spears
We have our machines, and they have their stories
You have your church, and we have our plants
Which culture is stuck at the who's, why's, and cant's?
It was so easy from the start
to place this barrier around our hearts
They taught you how, and you don't remember
Being to young, and brainwashed by December
If I took away your materialistic outlook on life
Who would you be?
<Blood of a cow>
If I cleansed your painful past
Who could you be ?
I know what it is
that holds you in place
In your wallet it hides awaiting its turn
That's all right, please don't cry
I wont touch your money
You have a sweet tooth
and i know that's your honey
So cling to it tight, and make a big pile
It makes you so cool,
it gives you your style
<information that i desire>
So tonight when you sleep
way up at the top
Your dreams filled with treasure
that goes on forever
In our next life
In our next place
Don't be upset when you say , "hi".
And I just walk by
how could I recognize you?
with all of those coins stuck to your face
Oh wait! i remember now
Yes, i'm sorry
I do know you
You're the one who told me all about heaven
Where the gates are golden and full of pearls
the streets gem encrusted
<lady of fortune>
The roads are silver
The street lights halos
All of your friends and family are there
Eating and drinking, forever
God looks just like you
You are obviously quite thrilled with the outcome
and the sheer magnificent splendor of it all
I am so glad for you
and not the least bit resentfull
<The fruit from that tree>
Here is my mushroom
Here is my cactus
I have no more money
and when i did?
it was never mine
it was merely dead trees
and melted minerals
a trick for the masses
to make life
bearable.
a never ending
commercial.
just for you.
Back to poem details
Anonymous | 207.119.185.14 | 6 | August 29, 2007 5:11 PM PDT |
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Below lie old votes |
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