Wednesday, January 19, 2005

I.
it's always been my nature to take chances
right hand drawing
left hand singing
midnight concertina

blood dryin' hair
as i go from borough to borough
what has drawn you to my door
have you seen me before

eyes are two slits
a face that any painter would paint
worshipping a god with the body of a woman
and the head of a hyena
laughing at my jokes

do i need your permission to turn the other cheek?
if you can read my mind, why must i speak?

in the shadow of giants
where the stars explode with streetlamps
follow the instructions
the psychic gave you

walk down the road with your disposition
when i cease to exist, then who will you blame?

there's a black limo rollin' through the combat zone
servants are half dead
you're down to the bone
tell me, where would you like to be overthrown
in chile, iraq or nicargua?

steal yourself from your vengeance
satisfy your urge with possessions that have been stolen
surrounded your hips with a blindfold

i see men marching in your eyes
taking your heart by force
weep in holy places

II.
sell postcards of the hanging
paint the passes red
the circus is in town
they’re all in blue

the riot squad they're restless
they beat the daylight out of the sun

no one wants to know
the back pockets of theives

ambulances cry down the boulevard
the moon is almost hidden
the stars are beginning to hide

everybody is making love
expecting rain with no clouds in the sky

sit underneath the windowsill
feel the wind, it’s quite romantic

disguised your memories
as happiness
smell the dead roses
like spring in the wintertime

recite the alphabet
poison the sentence
christ and kerosene
watch them shine
someone said it looks beautiful

III.
received one of my mundane messages
yesterday
the lame on the street
forgot their names
gave them letters to remember

rearranged their faces
sat in different chairs
hid behind everything let my hair down
wander aimlessly,go where your feet take you and
shouldn’t take you,

beware of luck
makes you think your immortal

beware the thoughts that linger
in your head, your no genius

beware of unconscious suffering
your no victim

beware of passion
no one will understand you

beware of music
it is a religion

beware of love
it punches hard

beware of tomorrow
it may not come

beware of heat
it becomes spoiling

beware of breathing
the air is bad

beware of boomerangs
you won’t know where i end and you begin

beware of failure
it feels good

beware of success
it becomes intoxicating

received another one of
my mundane messages

today
the lame on the street
walked by me

the midnight sky is unforgivingly beautiful
i gave the stars all names
forgot them all

i hid behind everything in my room
and stared at the sky

(b.)

1 Comments:

Blogger DhakFu said...

...beware the sweet-talkin' bomber
his hobo tongue robed in ghetto lace
riding streetcars through boombox bazaars
desecrations scrawled across his face
all the phantoms on the rooftops
framed in spotlights by his flow
strung out on wordless nooses
sharing their stashes with the crows
idle hookers spooning next month's rent
parasites with poetic souls
lady & he sink through the sounds
wrapped in skins so rife with holes...

-yo B-
when you lift from one of my favorite tunes i feel compelled to call it out and do the same... peacenlove
fuad

12:58 AM  

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