CANTICLES AND CANTICLES

Canticles and candles
litanies sweet to the ear
incense like a serpent
dancing in the air
the holy kneel in prayer
mesmerized by the magic
murmuring of mysteres.
“Kyrie eleison”
“Lord , have mercy.”
“Miserere Domine”
“Lord, have pity”...
for we fear.

Hanging paper…

They hang paper from white washed bill boards,
then string their words together like barbed wire.
Allowing them to ingratiate all subliminal hordes,
trapping those with an awareness in it’s quagmire.

The leaders have rolled inside their cosy webs,
finding comfort as opposed to our terminal terrors.
We as citizens are but numbers, treated as plebs,
blown around on big brothers wind like feathers.

We'll go back to the beach one day,
and I hope that it won't be too long,
to watch the sizzling tourists lay
while listening to some sixties song.

In the salty surf we'll splash and play
then stroll along the wide boardwalk
just as we did on our last stay
when we'd pause and quietly talk.

We'd watch shadows creep out toward the sea
when evening breezes came around
as we sat upon the balcony
taking in the gulls' sad sound.

ruse it clever baby

fuse it with your cleaver

the hard candy receiver

drenched in your fear and sweet sweat

wet slather and yes

I would rather

Pump it Pump it
Nitro scene
the fabric crawls
its taut obscene

the broken glass
like glitter death
expound the drones
and fuck the mess