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 Feb 2013 allan jain bonder
Ugo
When a sight of dying babies
Becomes peace, a haven of tranquility,
When you only listen to the priest
No longer for the truth, but for lies

When a mother’s duty becomes to ****
No longer to give life,
When children no longer grow old
But the old grow to children

When life is not seen as learning
Rather His punishment for the unrighteous,
When graves are harvested as birth
And being born becomes the new death

When killers are praised as heroes
For sending men to rest, to peace,
When those who save lives
Become the greatest fugitives and enemies

When your unconscious becomes reality
And reality becomes that which is hidden;
Then you’ve arrived at the land of the gods
For the opposite of this Earth exists.

For every one thing is
In respects to its Antithesis.
http://www.amazon.com/OLAF-Nothing-Above-Fiction-ebook/dp/B009XZ9OVY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid;=1353822133&sr;=8-1&keywords;=olaf+last+king+of+nothing
 Feb 2013 allan jain bonder
Ugo
Before guns wore make-up,
We used to put pennies in our socks
So we’d always walk on the root of all evil.

Now Wall Street angels frolic through satellite clouds borrowed
from youths educated by universities of smoke and plastic bags.
                  
(The tears of a child are homage to the waning gods)
For in a day not far away,
Over the painted moon of the Morning Son,
The sun will rise wearing the finest war scars money can buy.

And the screams of humanity will be heard from Venus,
Forgetting that the reciprocal of   L-I-V-E   itself  is     E-V-I-L
And perhaps death is the life meant to be lived.
John 10:34 "Jesus answered them, "Is it not written in your Law, 'I have said you are gods'?
 Feb 2013 allan jain bonder
Ugo
I remember the morning Tuesday was invented—
how gleeful we sang across the streets—
forgetting that the day after tomorrow would be Thor’s day
and that one we didn’t own, too.

I remember the bathroom stalls, the sins of Leviticus
we survived
comforting our confusion with the indulgence that God too
love man, kind.

Let the purgatory full of half good men sing about their sins
with pride and laugh at the moons and stars for being without limbs
and tongues to protest their innocence and Idontgiveadamnisms;


For I remember being fed the tenets of heterosexual history in elementary school
yet wondering why queer gods are the ones named after the planets.
In the loving memory of David Kato Kisule (c. 1964 – January 26, 2011)
*If We Keep On Hiding Away, They Will Say We Are Not Here*
I'm drunk
There is nothing more
Condescending
Than drunk
Nothing more
Aggravating
Then reaching
The bottom
Of your
Glass
That empty
Full feeling
Pink cheeks
Trying to
Make
Someone
Think
You're
Sober
You're blaming
Disrepair
On the moonlight
Carving
At your
Own eyes
Any connection
To the truth
Or open eyes
Silent
But screaming
Cries
The pain
That comes
With slicing
Open
Knots
The cloud
Around
Your brain
It's just
A game
That you
Have to
Play
All the
Clouded
Clarity
Leaves you
In the night
Tucks you
Into bed
And lays
Your
Ink filled head
To rest
You wake up
Inside out
I don't doubt
Your purpose
You really think
You're born
For this?
Dipping pens
In expired
Time
Seasons
Already
Gone by
Leads you
In a circle
When you
Draw
What you've
Already
Lost
The cobwebs were hanging in the corners of the room.
While I'll confess I was lost within the masquerade,
of a dance full with the intent of death;
swirling till we sung with how to die alone.

In our ballroom, is what I need;
Step by step; unassumingly.
I'll wait for you there, locked in our rhythm.
I'll wait for you there, till time stands still.

And on death row, I will continue on with a smile.
My mask molding into my face-
Like the harlequin, dancing endless steps-
slipping down the path of the pagan.
I will pray to the god's and anyone listening.
To return me to my heavens.
To a place, I'll recall;
wasn't I just there---

In our ballroom, is what I need;
Step by step; unassumingly.
I'll wait for you there, locked in our rhythm.
I'll wait for you there, till time stands still.

And on I dance, until the days were done.
And then, there I sat with regrets...
Cobwebs hanging over shattered glass.
All the things I've never achieved...
For all I've done, for all I've been.
**In dreams until my death, I wonder on.
© Victoria

— The End —