like the chill wind of a razor blade as it cuts into a cactus heart.
i can hear the sound of the crow.
i can hear the sound of the magpie.
reach for my pistol mama.
play my totem fabric with your fingerless gloved hand.
lay me down so that i can sleep.
upon your milky breasts.
upon your sweet thighs.
upon the scented heart of you that flutters open pink like a ladies purse.
keep the honey chain slick and pour me an ale.
an ale and some confection for the disease of that heaven that flys open beneath the stars of creation.
i caught your midnight.
rolled it in the palm of my hand.
like tobacco in a pig pouch.
like paradise in a moment frozen.
there are angels by my side.
i see their black wings spread wide.
i hear their raucous cries that speak of things unknown.
heavy hearts on the telegraph wire that bends with the weight of the gathering storm.
a murder of words and symbols as fresh as the first dawn.
as black as the first steps of creation.
5 comments:
this is a hymn,
a darn good one...
in my head already some beat started,
i mean it just erupts_
wrote it ages ago for my own myspace site but because i am now concentrating more and more of The Village Tlaes of Fekenham Swarberry, I have kinda rationalised my output so that discharge gets all the 'leftfield stuff i used to put out on the cocaine jesus blog site leaving me free to beaver away at Fekenham.
gotta get that book published!
yes I've seen it on your "space" site,
but with the image and the form it had
it tore me to your sweet hell_lol
keep me updated about your release_
look who has rejoined the fray
me too, hopefully later on today or tomorrow
robert>>>good news. very good news!
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