I am an unwanted child of god
I am an unwanted child of god-
He said,
And I, (believing him)
examined his shapes closely.
Simple enough,
Is what would best describe him,
his feet were sheltered by rubbers
manufactured in some distant or exotic country
crafted by machines
in far away factories.
This unwanted child of god, this dark young man, child of father after father infinitum;
Gave me a look of terror and apathy at once, then spoke.
I think, sometimes, of acting out of character-
(his smile surprised me)
I put the gun in my mouth just to taste the cold iron-
I bring men to my hotel room, women too-
(his gap widened)
Who can say I am not the happiest ******* on the ******* planet-
'not me'
I'll drink to that-
Oh hoarse throat, oh smokey breath
Oh sad unwanted child of god
Whose mother did look upon the coat-hanger,
And whose father did look upon the belt;
I'll drink to you everyday,
For who is to say I'm not the happiest ******* on the ******* planet?
Hip and hip
hooray.
Next Sunday he pulled the trigger, and stained the Dull brown wall of his hotel room.
Nov 10, 2011
Nov 10, 2011 at 7:11 PM UTC
ol king crab kingo the highwaymen
cumma walking down that hallways street
oll king crab king o the highwaymen
he got swagger boom swagger
he got boom bap pow
pow
pow
-
i seen im runnat comb through his hair
i seen it move back
i seen it glitter-glisten under em bright lights
onna ceeling
-
i seen im touchin
mercury aphrodite
i seen im touchin onna ladies
hera n persephone
he been touchin onna ladies
backadatruck
backadatruck
back seat
pull em uppa cliffside
pull em uppa cliff
bring em inna that backseat
5 minutes in heaven baby
you know it
-
ol king crab dont go to school
he appears
he come-and-go
touch-and-go
in-out
he just visiting
dont need no work
dont need to work
get nuffa that at home
-
ol king crab drop out
not too much trouble
he never drop in
get a job drivin a truck
aint no better way to live
then watching those glitter-glisten lights
on that highway
run that comb through your hair
do it one more time,
do it for us king crab
yeah, just like that
-
down that road he go
b back l8r
b back
b back
down down down
hot stuffy old car
dice onna mirror
just like a movie
luck pair of dice
such a lucky paradise
inna truck
down that road
fulla nuthin
fulla nuthin
fulla NOTHING.
-
Ol' King Crab he *****
he chew
he *****
that how to live
that how to live?
yeah, son.
in back o tha gas station he *****
back inna gas station he chew
tobacco gum tobacco
he take em ladies by the hand
them ladies aint outta worry
king crab outta worry
watch whose hand you take.
-
Listen.
Don't let him take you by the hand.
Don't let him TAKE YOU.
DON'T LET HIM TAKE YOU BY THE HAND
-
ol king crab gettin
****** inna back of the gas
station
pullin outta driveways
and outta women
watch whose hand you take on that open road
you lose yo head
Nov 8, 2011
Nov 8, 2011 at 9:15 PM UTC
A Nightmare
In my dreams I am the melting man.
Through tinted glass I am without senses.
With eyes that feel the sting of sight and fever of hearing,
I am allowed into the killing ground.
I followed my friendliest faces through some foggy
thick soup that does tickle my eyes
and vex them to lower.
Up again to this lonely temple
Where so many familiarities touch the ground and
my vessel with fatal hands.
First kiss and polystyrene men;
synthetic and terrifying.
Where have I seen you before?-
December 11th
Close your eyes.-
Here we are again.
there are sweats all over
i have been here so many times before and i sweat and cry
the killing grounds
dear mother, take me home, i sweat and cry for i have come here again
take me away? where have you gone?
the killing grounds
the pile of death
hopeless death that is violent and
my poor fragile eyes sweat and cry and
drip away
see those empty faces
of first kiss and polystyrene man
i reach for mothers hand
but i must linger in the mess of filth
December 11
please let me leave
i am losing
skin falls in drips
like cream or paint
and i must join the filth
no crying may save me.
Nov 8, 2011
Nov 8, 2011 at 9:10 PM UTC
Giles Corey
What is there, really,
Left to say
When you cannot trust
The honest pay?
Do you, really
Hear the sounds,
Of the clocktowers
coming down?
I do not, really,
Know the time.
We're just acquainted..
No friend of mine.
No friends at all
Are mine, per say.
Just folks to call,
From day to day.
From day to day,
And dusk to dusk.
There's nothing left
But empty husks.
I'd gouge my eyes
With forks and knives,
If that would bring me
To Saint Ives.
Gouge my eyes
At sight of her
Hopes I despise:
empty aquifer.
That saturate the souls
Of bedazzled bums
And homeless ******
Sent to pick the crumbs.
Great fallen father
Oh, dying mother
What way is water?
Who hid the shelter?
Your sons and daughters
Are frightened now.
They cannot win
They don't know how.
We all have fears
Of how we'll fare
When you say,
"We need more engineers.
To build the cities
And the gutters
And the gluttons
And the guillotines
And the gilded glaves that gorey Giles brings.
To pile the stones
On our frail young frames
As we're forced to cry
To **** our names,
"More weight."
Nov 8, 2011
Nov 8, 2011 at 6:48 PM UTC