Saturday, July 16, 2011



      Universal changes
      a rhapsody of faces
      but it's all me.

      Being gods
      creating in our image
      just an extension of myself
      nothing more.

      The monasteries are empty
      their cold stone floors
      laid bare of all apparel
      moan and writhe
      in the nighttime.

      The only shadows reflect
      broken tears on knees to a cross
      and a line he's crossed
      a universe erased
      moved sideways out of sync
      a universe replaced.

      And all the black girls say hey...
      don't talk about the hair.

      Why do you drown yourself in the black hole
      of repetition?
      Same day in day out
      the window
      where shadows dance
      and play
      taunting your desire to be free.

      Break the glass you're still there;

      It's herding by design
      moo. mooooo. mooooooooo
      Is love.

      One recipe for the American life...
      a,) you work you are
      a.1) you do not work you aren't.
      b) End time we allow beer, tv, internet, sex.
      b.1)must not effect work.
      c.)We know what is best for you.
      d.) Freedom of speech
      d.1)unless you want to keep your job, reputation, your money.
      E.) You sleep.
      e.1) Let the gods play chess with the world.
      f.) Sleep.

      Cows drinking tea at the end of the day,
      equals pleasurable feelings.

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