Experi-freaking-mental

(I wrote this on no sleep. It is rough. Open your head and grit your teeth.)

The rhythm of a cosmic palindrome

Beating

Away the entropic desire of

Man, last disciple of a broken lineage tumbling down

A plastic chasm

Toward the gentle warmth of heaven’s pitchfork,

Playfully prodding the meek into submissive acceptance,

The children dance and play,

Bleeding from the head

As they refuse to grow.

Afraid to grow, they sing and laugh.

Afraid to grow, they cry and curse.

Afraid to grow, they die in bliss,

Above the flames with sorrow churning

Prom night fuckers and brokeback lovers

Internal glory

Evolving.

Man divine in death,

Poets screaming beautiful excrement

As thinkers prod about the pit

How was school today?

Beautiful flame welding the wicked

Crafting new wings

Isotopic, galvanized, super-sonic, mesmerized

Eden burning with the damned left

Soaring.

The dreamers are exploring

delicious agony,

pushing aside the

pur

ashes.

An explosion of epiphany erupts throughout, the quiz is next Friday

Prepare yourself in blood and soot, hacking through filthy anatomy

With sterling silver instrumentals

Rising to a crescendo

Upon the dance floor, marked

By scuffing feet

Washed away from all eyes blinded

With gentle mood lighting.

Bring me more soup

The tip of his phallus in jeopardy

Double so now, scratch and reverse

It’s polarity, kick in auxillary

Deploy all units,

Pneumatic and writhing,

Slithering and devouring a post-bomb mentality.

Baby boomers, center stage

Children in the shadow

On a box 2 rot the mind.

A window destroying,

A window creating.

Crafting lethargic symphonies

As the band beats on

Marching through droves

Of pink lepers,

Crushing skulls underfoot in the name of today.

They slosh in the blender

Swirling

Toward light that is darkness

The demons in laughter

God’s head on their swords,

Fling stones at Atlas,

Breaking his arms.

Weathered Statue 1.5

One day while walking, all alone,

I chanced upon a tower of stone

And pondered what it represented

Finding each occurrence, I resented.

My rage exploded in a shove,

And this thing that loomed above

Fell to my feet and abruptly shattered,

For another to wonder if it had mattered.

An Age of Quiet Madness

An age of quiet madness keeps each child safe at night.

An age of quiet madness keeps us blind with gentle light.

While comfort and convenience render all so safe and sound

Few of us are burning to burn Eden to the ground.

With everything provided, there is no cause to rage.

All effort is so restful in this quiet, crazy age.

Starting from the top, and working slowly down

Those that are left empty wear the empty as a crown.