Tuesday, 29 March 2011

poetry cafe number 1

He, in wired coat of flax and followed slant

breathing deep the argonaughts breath of deep

seeing eyes of the eternal nonsense

opened to the callous float of blown up ideals

of anarchy

and anarchism

undulating thugs fleeing through flowing streets

spraying dissent across meaningless concrete

soul-less hyphenation and baseless promises of safety

left to harmonize with the hopeless day

sighing that infinite breath of contention into the hearts of

the young

the youngism

the schism between squalid brown glaciers of upturned mud

glowing with the post-coital bliss of anti-capitalism

each of us carry with us the spark this same spark of idiocy

clamouring for the correct way to express our dread

will I kill today?

Oh father molog

will I kill today?

Oh mother azathoth

goddess of non-gendered destruction

touch us through our shaken shoulders, through the wired coats and the grey hoodies

through the streets of contention

through the houses of dictators

through the mud and the dirt

and the love and the hurt

through the rhyme and the sky

through the questions and unacceptable answers

through the green and black crossed youth of futures hope

through the yellow and black of baseless copulation

through the rape of our families

through the gauntlet of doubt

through the wormhole of Lycanthropy

through the glory of repitition

will I kill today?

Oh brother steadman

steady oh shading the harsh perfect light

shaded by incandescence and signified verbal halitosis

allowing our creativity to bleed through our gums

allowing the scurvy sickness of realities harsh caverns

lighting our way through validity and context

will I die today?

Oh sister moon

and will you cry when I stop thinking your name?

Will we ever sit again, and will I spell your three letter name with hope, or regret, or kindness,

or nothing

Will I die today

oh fleeting collective

of crass and bloodied faces

facets of bloodied facts

sanguine money pushers of normality and appeasement

of leaves and of awakening

of meaning and meaninglessness

of esses and nesses and lochs and


of myth and of fucking

Will I die today?

Oh feeling of doubt

I cannot deny you

I refuse to die without you

Will I die today?

Oh guru nothing


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