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violence and poetry
violence and poetry, broken glass and paper songs.
artists love and society longs
to find a greater present,
to touch a glory absent,
something worth what we?ve spent,
a god we cannot know,
a way we cannot go,
a way we cannot grow
if it doesn?t make us dough,
if it isn?t the perfect, greedy, american solution.
well, i?ve got some evolution
for your mind?s pollution,
to show your constitution
the inherent revolution,
to spend your time
building the rhyme . . . of life,
to take your wife
and all you?ve got,
to give your future a clearer shot,
a moment where everything?s sacred,
though nothing is divine,
in which we live in the blink of another?s eye,
the blink of a heartbeat,
the blink of a coroner?s sheet,
before we burn that body, cremate that corpse,
spread our legs and let those ashes fly . . .
and lest we die,
keep those candles lit,
and don?t be surprised
when a world born in violence
keeps returning to it,
keeps falling to shit,
keeps killing itself bit by bit by painful, bloody bit.
violence and poetry, broken hearts and paper songs.
artists love, politicians war and society?she longs.