Saturday, December 17, 2005

some of the glories sigh for prophets
some, sigh and take the cash
shed a silken tear
for those buried alive
one by one
denied rewards
scattered on the ground
too minuscule to be nourish
licking the soil
hoping for proof of proof
to nurture swollen bellies
mixed with fecal matter and cast off flesh
a lamp amid darkness
on lips of poor fruitless attempts
secret dreams dream of
heavenly vintage tomorrows
a cup of dust and clay carcasses
at dawn
do the nothing
running sadness to the ground

strange though
I prefer to play with matches
rough ride midnights helpless pleas
wander under tomorrows silence
then yesterdays lapse into
praying for an evolutionary jerk forward
drinking death from another
luckless plot

oh body
washed in blood
and covered in phosphorous ash
spring me one last breath
filled with real remnants
quick-silver and lead
let me drink from you
sorry scheme of things
let me touch the spot
that bites back
in the dark unknown
once again


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