Monday, September 20, 2004

North of Nowhere


My mouth is a fully automatic weapon
The telephone is an outgrowth of my mind
Let your friends in on it, they’re about to reinstate
the draft inbetween commercials for SUVs
O prophetic television, something is rotten in Denmark
Bombs, metal flowers blooming, nascent
consciousness. Humankind, kings are awakening
to no clothes, where are your pants Lothario?
Citizen Bush, I feel the need to question even familiar things
in light of the afternoon's vice grip on sanity
government principles now have more to do with simple extortion
nasturtium, napalm, General Custer, moon or skull above the waste allotments?
I saw the best minds of my generation yawning
Where the dawn's specious reliquary breaks resplendent.
I'm packing my bags to make the move to Venus
my mouth is a fully automatic weapon
rising upward as the horizon shifts to nausea.
This, crepuscular world, is my canticle to peace.
You won't wrench this flower from my grasp,
meantime wake-up, change the channel
notice earthbound meteor.


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