Voice Lessons

Midnight in the morgue,
awaiting Lazurus to rise again,
I spent the night in
a southern coma,
slurping tequila and
waiting for the devil
to show,
he does,
just 45 minutes late,
and that pisses me off.

The barn starts to throb,
pulsing vibrations
send the energy through the spine,
let the rythmn
be your religion.
Reconcile the demons,
stomp your feet
and feel the Earth move
through you.

We are chained
to the machine,
our fists turning bloody,
our tears still slave to
the demands of the government.

Prisons filling up,
no evidence,
no rights read,
and yet we are still happy hypnotized humanity
under the capitalist Big Top.
We are killing our collective consciousness
without even knowing it,
only ruin will come in the morning.

I weep daily now,
truth spat out,
mixed with tar and gasoline,
but dancing is better,
barefoot on the
white carpet,
sizzle with the heat
of the moment that is passing by.
I try to regret nothing
and yet live haunted-
Ann Boleyn
headed to the slaughter.