Perversions Of the Elder Kind

A starving Hamlet once screamed the words of filth and regret There a mother fell with her breasts in hand... The knife can carve 10 inches before the poison feels compassion Portents of cloaking ember, the importance of my lover’s desire A women of two men, tender with raw meat and Macon The primal being sits with torn silver, His erected dream Ends with starving wars and pink-lisp waves The curves were flashing catastrophic completion Down below upon the streets, the sidewalks grinding their fangs Feasting on every stranger with hands of purple bastards A sneering King once told of sex, To be restrained from his raggedy throne Placed upon a platter of muffins and virgins He then thought a different lie, Convincing the head of the state to dine and neglect They were people of salvation Of deliverance and muddy sheets And the image of tainted purity remains a sacrificial beast Walking in midnight’s palace, stroking his own aspiration Like Hell You would feel the pressure of missing stars Shaped and sold on a white man’s black market God loves a thief, for him they distribute the bread Doughty daughters hang in the angel’s light The sour ground which I lay upon Only reminds me of myself, when you were a kicking fetus In the mother’s poisoned belly, And of an earth, seeking out a dispiriting existence Lovers, children, maids and whores... A gift from the envious clouds above... The wine my child should have swallowed down The enemy against my breasts ///////////////My lifeless habitat\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ Written February 17th, 2002 © on Feb 17 2002 01:11 PM PST    18 • 0 • 16