pleasure is sweet,
resistance is cruel, oppression breeds machines. the culture running, looking
back, bullets, nooses, ropes, in caramel eyes, just a child, dying isn’t
beautiful. some contradiction, racing towards a Promise, sludging through
marshlands, marshweed, penalties, prison terms. so many cries, mother at bars,
father absent, just released, headed to a cult in Louisiana. greetings from
within, a mind so capable, so aggregated, such agriculture; the other side, the
blockage, the immortal cage—gnawing tumbleweed, eating blood-grass, tripping
into social soil. Many have watched, it’s a whit advertised, a little frightening—it
comes, it resurrects, Dear God—our souls!
so morose at
hours, something imposing for hours, like crazy to tell the laws—like amazed to
become a Witness. indeed, as it attains in Spirit, blatant spirit, miracles in
smaller people. the physician is alright, the poor maiden gripped his
tunic, the issue of bleeding sunk into its wound. like raiding my being,
ringing my phone, with nothing to understand.
winnow the winds,
extract the fires, come to the table prepared to master the art. shoes filled
with peanut butter, palms filled with jelly, slipping off of the totem pole. California
wires, gnosis pains, like moving away brings us closer; the rain in his head,
the storm in his spirit, looking at a face, running away. the grave is eager,
the will at powers, the woman a mother’s daughter.
