Dicks And Society, Piss And Wine

I almost ran into the wall the other morning The thought was liquid vomit, Its hands were stretched, nursing on nipples and bricks While The hunters laid down their heels Punching arrows inside the world’s shaggy chest You’re not a safe rabbit, until the needle is locked in glass Injection of fluids, a poisoned little child, the hand beneath God Is this the hunters golden barrel? Accompanied by voices and gin Ah but there’s a lost cause in every gray-haired man’s soup Just waiting to tickle the dead man’s gullet Politicians Keep their groins in loving condition, with a spare twinkled slut Passing lyrics and verity, at the diner table You’re not a sane prize, until the clan has won you over by default And a slow kill, slowly killing, the underbelly of civilization Bashing the pigs heads in with tea kettles and welfare You talk of jazz, with your fancy art and mermaid dreams Swallowed by the shallow wish of disparity and sterilized fathers But to fault, and spit upon naked nature, With a shielded erection, anxious as the summer hormone To regurgitate life from a daughter’s womb, The trash can munching on sin and gore, as empty arms cry alone Rain down, rain acidic gravy, enlightening the taste of every saint’s rue Their flesh emollient and perfected, with peewee cocks pissing on my furniture My final home and resting, covered with hollowed idiots Hanging from the lights, scratching the fleas onto flavored ground My teeth only see black, with a knife headed straight for my knees Beyond that psychosis, the hunter learns his  institution Kill plenty with little in mind, and perhaps the haunted will find restMust be one of those nights... Written February 16th, 2002 © on Feb 15 2002 05:12 PM PST    18 • 0 • 9