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Heros Never Die Tuesday, 25-May-1999 13:39:37
Do you know the warm progress under the stars? Do you know we exist? Have you forgotten the keys to the Kingdom? Have you been borne yet & are you alive? Let's reinvent the gods, all the myths of the ages Celebrate symbols from deep elder forests [Have you forgotten the lessons of the ancient war] We need great golden copulations The fathers are cackling in trees of the forest Our mother is dead in the sea Do you know we are being led to slaughters by placid admirals & that fat slow generals are getting obscene on young blood Do you know we are ruled by T.V. The moon is a dry blood beast Guerilla bands are rolling numbers in the next block of green vine amassing for warfare on innocent herdsmen who are just dying O great creator of being grant us one more hour to perform our art & perfect our lives The moths & atheists are doubly divine & dying We live, we die & death not ends it Journey we more into the Nightmare Cling to life our passion'd flower Cling to cunts & cocks of despair We got our final vision by clap Columbus' groin got filled w/ green death We have assembled inside this ancient & insane theatre To propagate our lust for life & flee the swarming wisdom of the streets The barns are stormed The windows kept & only one of all the rest To dance & save us W/ the divine mockery of words Music inflames temperament (When the true King's murderers are allowed to roam free a 1000 magicians arise in the land) Where are the feasts we were promised Where is the wine The New Wine (dying on the vine) resident mockery give us an hour for magic We of the purple glove We of the starling flight & velvet hour We of arabic pleasure's breed We of sundome & the night Give us a creed To believe A night of Lust Give us trust in The Night Give of color hundred hues a rich Mandala for me & you & for your silky pillowed house a head, wisdom & a bed Troubled decree Resident mockery has claimed thee We used to believe in the good old days We still receive In little ways The Things of Kindness & unsporting brow Forget & allow Did you know freedom exists in a school book Did you know madmen are running our prison w/in a jail, w/in a gaol w/in a white free protestant Maelstrom We're perched headlong on the edge of boredom We're reaching for death on the end of a candle We're trying for something That's already found us We can invent Kingdoms of our own grand purple thrones, those chairs of lust & love we must, in beds of rust Steel doors lock in prisoner's screams & muzak, AM, rocks their dreams No black men's pride to hoist the beams while mocking angels sift what seems To be a collage of magazine dust Scratched on foreheads of walls of trust This is just jail for those who must get up in the morning & fight for such unusable standards while weeping maidens show-off penury & pout ravings for a mad staff Wow, I'm sick of doubt Live in the light of certain South Cruel bindings The servants have the power dog-men & their mean women pulling poor blankets over our sailors (& where were you in our lean hour) Milking your moustache? or grinding a flower? I'm sick of dour faces Staring at me from the T.V. Tower. I want roses in my garden bower; dig? Royal babies, rubies must now replace aborted Strangers in the mud These mutants, blood-meal for the plant that's plowed They are waiting to take us into the severed garden Do you know how pale & wanton thrillful comes death on strange hour unannounced, unplanned for like a scaring over-friendly guest you've brought to bed Death makes angels of us all & gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as raven's claws No more money, no more fancy dress This other Kingdom seems by far the best until its other jaw reveals incest & loose obedience to a vegetable law I will not go Prefer a Feast of Friends To the Giant family RiP Owen Hart The Handler of the Congregation |
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