A demonstration of channeling: Rihanna, Tom Waits, Coco Rosie, M.I.A, Kate Bush, and Lady Gaga

This is a poem that I just wrote while I was listening and then channeling the above artists.
The artists are in order and of listening and by paragraph through the poem.

Try to succumb to the pain and sex of the looking glass circus,
we sharpen our teeth and parade before a soul sucking animal.
Our eyes turn red from the strain,
and we whisper in the languages of old tongues,
our prisons to break out of,
we will,
and leave nary a leftover.
I can direct us if you will,
into the inferno and leave the light behind.
Cave in to the creature inside you,
bring your top hats and black evenings gowns,
and we shall prove our worthiness.
Crave to lean back and sit then to watch a dance spell out
the desires of the public.

Until we take the long road home,
we shall sit in bars with the pinstripe dolls,
drinking whiskey next to the cello player,
we travel through our masculinities at will
when the harsh glare is needed to make the crowd
shake their fits and cry out to the sky,

oh the flicking fighting we’ve seen in eyes that stare off
into other times and people’s sorrow leapt and wept on to one
as she has here in the lightening.
Scavengers we are to thrust forward
the heliums of older tempers and desires,
we kill each other so senseless as if falling into
an ocean to drown.
Death is outside my window
and wakes me up to go and look out
to meet him in the morning
as the sun sets.

They feed on our children
and starve our leaders into rebellion
with the beats of their anger upon us.
From once we came and now we
shall reclaim with a vengence
the lands that are ours and we re-visted
all our ghosts to haunt your houses.
Virus’s can not stop these mystic slithering
and Egyptian knowledge from earlier
relations with these characters,
the high goddess nods her head toward the moon
and the blood will be avenged,
one way or another.

The Flight of the Fathers
ended us up in the future of air,
we twisted in her circling canopy
and rose up to the four corners
of the Bermuda triange-
with its pyramid stretching up into our space.
Angels surveyed the skies and
fairyed away to see the silence that set before them.
Spice the water and give us past lives,
this forces us to recognize that we are all connected
in the divinity that splashes up around our ankles.

Can I get reflection back in the mirror?
Broken petals fell into my dreams
that dedicated their violence to your bidding.
I scream threw the ashes to watch for the signs of destruction.
The closet felt comforted to know
that the speaker of the house is here,
for once the bodies are alive and walking.
We drank together,
back in the day when we came a bit too early to the party,
our masks shine brightly in the candlelight and cast our shadows
tall and teething.

No comments:

Post a Comment