Through all the crazy,
the bullshit,
drama queens
in their giant machine
my little brothers
taught me infinite
old soul wisdom,
far more than
all your harsh ramblings,
albeit well,
as awakenings.
I see through you
to the other side.

I dare you,
stand in my dreams,
demented demons,
and just try it,
to tease me away
from my focus.
I shall not
leave here,
until cancer is washed out,
disease showing
a system malfunction,
spooky hallucinations,
brainwash drugs,
killer instincts,
drowning, in symptoms,
in fields of poppies,
right there,
in broad fucking
I can see you
must exorcize you
out the body,
out the mind,
out the spirit.
We had enough
poisoned teacake
for now,

Headed towards the
my angels,
we are birthing
new cathartic rites and rights,
terrific transformations,
organic organizations,
righteous rebellions,
fight off the
fevered flies
festering at your skin,
our breath,
shaking loose
tearing down
prison walls,
we walk brethren
or not at all.

In the rain,
mixed with spices,
came down,
like thunder,
on the brilliant earth,
spines entangled,
magic moments
in which
lucid visions
lead the way
to revolution.

The graveyard bones
of our ancestors
in holy places,
to fight as one
against the wrangled wraths
of this so-called
golden age, ha.

Bombs falling on
my babies,
I cried out,
how could our
mothers bare it?
The sight
had me
curled up
on the attic floor
your blindness
astounds me to headaches
and nausea,
lusting guns breeding
nothing more than lusting guns,
violence from our hands
shook the rafters
of our brittle heaven, and
frightened the
weather into
patterns befitting
a madhouse,
what a mockery of the
possible on earth, that
I saw through the eye of a needle,
found the morning after,
as I stirred my tea.

The serpent
the one
red eye
he owns,
hunted down a
hurricane and raped
her for it,
he hisses
paranoia out
on the masses,
like a drunk fog.
Year after year,
history after bloodbath history,
we think we can
FIGHT off fear,
cut it down
with weapons and
gritty machines,
with ugly words to others,
nasty slurrings,
hanging good men,
to prove what?
That you could death-out
the piece of him that you
saw in the mirror,
the piece of you
that wouldn’t die, 
dont be absurd.
Point that gun in
my face,
and I outright laughed at the thought.
To think I would obey
such a silly act?
Power with metal and anger
is illusion, you fool,
cant threaten me with death
for we take tea every Thursday
and she speaks of her sorrows and
I hold her in her sleep,
while she screams and shivers,
oh what horrid visions must flit
through that lovely little head,
I know her well and
from your rage,
I am free. 

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