Posts Tagged ‘America’

A-WAKE reading + sample from: Styx “Renegade” & Bill Hicks.

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These Goths…

With their designer clothes.

Designed to look non/designer.

& their mascara running.

Is not America Satanic enough?

I bear scars.

Saw infected arms.

Heard store alarms.

I/ve known tricks

that sell their souls real quick

for a bag to get off sick.

A land where your existence

is measured and weighed

& factored in as economy.

Do not tell me

about the dark reality.

The hell with Crowley.

You want scary?

Go into the heart of darkness;

the INNER city.

Behind every building,

under every bridge,

in every bathroom stall,

are our cities’ deepest pits.

There the dark sits.

Where are the real Gothic?

Those who burned the body of Percy?

Whose heart was collected

from the ashes of that great funeral fire.

For the human heart

is notorious

for being difficult to burn.

His heart enveloped

by his poem Adonais.

Words which cemented

Keats’s legacy.

Those magnificent lights that never stay with us.

Where are the:

Blakes and

Keats and

Byrons and

Clares and

Shelleys and

Coleridges and

Wordsworths now?

Who will light the pyre for America?

For she IS dying…

Who here will burn their hand taking her heart from the embers of the fire?

Who will wrap her heart in the already*blood*soaked constitution?

That shining poem…

Written as testimony to those that came before us:

That we were here.

That we saw truth.

That we would crawl from underneath

the tyranny of aristocracy.

Never again living on our knees.

That shining moment…

When we still believed.

Before this dark wind of apathy

swept over the streets of our cities.

Now is the time…

We can finally breathe.

For us to speak.

For us to dream.

Now is the time…

We learn to live again.

 

 

 

http://zenspeaknine.com/

They Talk A Lot

Posted: November 26, 2012 in Poetry
Tags: , ,

I fear who I’ve become as time ticks by

Ponder the enigma but there’s no why

Can’t help who I was it fit like a glove

A rhyme with no meaning destroying love

 

Somehow managed to fall into their plot

Waiting for Abraham to come save Lot

Kicking myself for now I know better

Writing with blood the words of this letter

 

Judge from up high upon a throne he sits

Protecting profiteers and hypocrites

Disturbing children just leave them alone

We’ll let he without sin cast the first stone

 

We’re dreaming their dream while there our life goes

They can pontificate but no one knows

Commercials that sell inadequacy

Don’t let them shape your soul’s identity