Killing For Revelation

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There are holes in the Ziploc bag.

Snow coated.

Breaks in the lines,

Sparking electrical wires

Melting alpine peaks

And itchy noses

Cut with methamphetamine

And the surgeon’s

Favorite razor.

The poets are scratching,

Shitting poetry

Bearing teeth

And grinding needles

In mildew corners

“Shit stings brother”

In that lavender pink

Codeine sky

The sweet thick stink

And an oasis of empties

Christ on the cross faded nausea

Accumulation

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Fish eyed

stoic reflections.

A little wired

Little crazy.

Wilted ass flower,

Chatted furs

manage to misunderstand.

They drugged Jesus,

The Son

Nauseous with nothing to nibble,

Nothing

 

Far from original sin

Smoking on senile hand rolled slugs

Racing past 

Settling insectile faces

Behind sterile windshield

I need these antithetics

To get through the day

 

The list travels through L.A.

And Tokyo

Coilng around the world

Knotted ball of twine

Each thread the next scroll

Of my prescription

Of prick the fingers,

Make him bleed,

painkillers

 

They whisper it,

Hiding behind sweaty palms

As I stumble to the curb

“DRUG ADDICT”

“HAGGARD DRUNK”

“RAPIST OF THE SOUL”

the roach that go away

 

The sky is stained with exhaust

The strip with buds

Accomplices

In my land

Two layers closer to hell.

Original Sin

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Dreaming of the day

The current takes me away.

Freedom on the littered floor

Of the stream bed.

 

I grovel into the night,

Pleading that I’ll forget god,

But in the morning I’ll be confronted

With the same dull reality.

It’s just the way it is.

It’s just the way it has been

The Demons of Privilege

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God helps the ones that

Help themselves

Go helps those that

Are white

Male wealthy

God helps the ones

That take and destroy

His creations for profit.

God helps America

Conquer inhabited lands

God helps: genocide

                   Corporate buy outs

                  Rape

                Murder

God only helps the ones

Who need it least.

God is the world’s largest

Corporation

Patting our oligarchy

And tyranny

On the back

God helps

Intolerance, insensitivity

God

Symbolizing profit

And power

More than the mighty

Dollar

Molach

My all mighty dollar

 

Pulling Up with a Finger on the Trigger

 

Police Brutality

And the sirens are blaring

ORWELLIAN MEN will wear your skin

And dance to Dolly Parton

The Ole Poke Salad Anny.

Their uniforms are blue

With bruises.

I don’t need divine kaleidoscope

To recognize the patterns.

I fired my hit man,

Instead I’ll try 911

The emergency lane has turned

To an ash tray at the bus stop,

An institution in waste management.

We keep our eyes up, holding

Our fear close

Like a handbag

Only briefly glancing

At the malnourished, mashings,

“justice” against the pavement.

Brushing lost

Cents under the rug, best hidden away from guests.

And the people search

for security in legislation:

To pray to vacant skies

Worse

To worship a vindictive God.

Dependable Faith

Mary watches over a street of pimps and whores
Jesus would remember
Would help all of us
But he’s too busy with a needle
In his arm

I carry a pocket sized Bible
Hollowed out
Everyone needs a place
To keep their coke

Before the show.

Im supposed to write lyrics
With spondees and pyrrhics
The words will be angry
Or the words will be satiric
Words like gangrene
Words acidic

Searching through Pappy’s drugs
He loved his roses, I, the hungry bug
Searching through tainted needles
I just wanted the love of the people
To be a man of the Steeple

But when human flesh
Is so like steel
For frayed neurons
Frantically afraid to feel

What is a boy to do?
When they’re the Nazi
And you’re the Jew