G=R=A=F=I=T=I
I must awake now
and torch the night:
the walls hunger for graffitos
that’s greater than Twombly.
let’s go out, let’s riot, let’s smash somethin’
because of the father mother, setting fire.
what and where again is me how howled
some increep, yet there are flashes
you know me, and once i told. She bitch
flung me into the rich arms of those fires
who kinded my death terror.
-----------------------------------------------------
------------------------------------------------------
* * * *
* * * *
* *
* *
* * * * * *
*
* * *
* * * *
* * *
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
GRAFFITOS
out
he had a very strong mother
who took him out of his dream
and he shuddered again
because once it was not as it is now,
for we must be something.
but you, you yearn-fear for the
the black absolution,
that envelope of veins
that geners like a river
a “hoo” echo out of a bone ghost,
only if only the stones.
the hard mother might
weaken to a dwarfic or a deaf,
if only the stones would rage in an acorn.
I must awake now
and torch the night:
the walls hunger for graffitos
that’s greater than Twombly.
let’s go out, let’s riot, let’s smash somethin’
because of the father mother, setting fire.
what and where again is me how howled
some increep, yet there are flashes
you know me, and once i told. She bitch
flung me into the rich arms of those fires
who kinded my death terror.
mother mother of all would not allow
those boy bullies to hack me, and so I winked, and
later my running up caught me -
burning ecstatic on the anvilled evil -
who had often breathed and knew my own knowing,
as a cat knows it is sleeping. these blood
tellings moan like Five Thousand Wind,
and he is complete of his replete, so he is,
setting forth to Flat Mountain. he is no terror
but begins a sculpture and maketh colour of
the return, SKAZ i am seize me, king
of myself on painting walls and white flats,
like my cave before me it’s right to rebel
kill the cops and smash the eye dream,
strong mother, gun; where are we now?
----- ---------- ----------- ---------- ------------ --------
No comments:
Post a Comment