Monday, March 10, 2008


Wow I'm sick of doubt

Live in the light of certain


Cruel Bindings

The servants have the power

dog-men & their mean women

pulling poor blankets over our sailors

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 usin

to The Severed Garden

Do you know how pale and want

on thrillfulcomes death on a strange hour unannounced,

unplanned for like scaring over-friendly

guest you've Brought to bed

Death makes angels of us all

& gives us wings

where we once had shoulders

smooth as raven's claws

No more money, no more fancy dress

This other kingdom seems by far the best

Until it's other jaw reveals incest

I will not go

Prefer a Feast of Friends

To the Giant Family

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