Saturday, November 7, 2009

Lemonade

She'd love you to leave her languid,
lying on a flattened mattress.
Soft, wet, moccasin eyes.

A pipe crackles, brown sugar,
There are no problems here you say.

Shadows as long as corridors
creep into sleep.

Lemon groves pierce the night,

bitter acrid sweetness,

sticky to the touch.

Beneath stars that barely wink,

Titans cold sky, your silver bits and straws.

Singing songs to a waning crowd,
cheap taffeta and linoleum floors.


You wouldn't look in a mirror
as time carved her lines

upon your face with
wicked sculptress hands of clay.

Now death fly's

on his winged chariot

towards your veins.

Soft poison,
receive the blow
that dull thud

to send you soundless
to your bed.
Eternal eve of birth,

back to the fluid of woman,

O womb,
that fleshy tomb,

covered in cherry gloss kisses.

You can hide out in the desert
under the endless tide of vine,

but into Dante's inferno
you'll finally carry

that sacred chalice of wine.

Ketamine Howl


Howl of youth cries into space,
those white lines run down your face.
Ketamine, the social smack,

fill the holes of love that lack.
Whisky, wine and malt liquor,

but the drugs they burn me quicker.

Bulging wombs of teenage queens,
wheres that crook who stole my dreams?
Strangers linger at the door,

my kid sisters on the floor,

blame myself for splitting hairs,

but no one else seems to care.

Slackened jaw of refugees,

another friend lost to that disease.

I got jacked up of to much hope,
to calm me down they gave me dope.

My boyfriend had a change of heart
but he don't know where to start,
they took his name and social number
and in the process made him dumber.

Shave your head to define your class,
squat a house and join the mass.

A new systems come to pass,
feel that boot right up your ass.

Give me H, X, LSD
the alphabet that sets me free,

but take out MTV

it murders minds in first degree.
Rich white kids unstitch their wrists,

shoot to score, you're bound to miss.

Mothers hooked on diet pills,

the only way to pay the bills.

American girls all look bored,
tie the noose and pull the cord.
Now come on all lets make a list

of how to be an anarchist,

and lets get out of control

but first I gotta sign my dole.
And whats that word that makes us punk

is it different or is it drunk?
And now we think we've seen the light

make a leaflet and join the fight.


At night I'll dream a dream of dreams

and in the morning untie the seams.


shave your head to define your class,
squat a house and join the mass.

A new systems come to pass,
feel that boot right up your ass.