Sunday, November 25, 2007

mining abandoned meanings

mining abandoned meanings

nothing lies on the morning's light-stained plate
and spatters our eyes with its tortuous abandoned
abortion, all the meanings that ever deserted words
and left the gods as these desolate orphans

we are, emptiness forgotten in our convivial hell,
where we long to slaughter our brothers and
sisters, the missing kisses of our desert nurture
where the winds that brushed our young limbs

burned their tender torment when life is death already.
heaven is whores' heroin and religion is crank for cretins
and other derivative christians, love but a bucket
of blood and cum and the scars on our faces

are the tracks of neglected addictions, the needle in the neck
and children's feckless dismemberment of memory, happier by far
swallowing a bottle of the forgetting, for only the blood's
rush is heaven for us, hell's patronising retention -

the slow drum that sings the cradle in the rushes
and hands us the fingers that touch. and the dead stand,
resolute and reticent brave in their graves, and lie
about resurrection, God's vague intention we dreamed once;

though we know so well today that only meat's decay
ever waited for anyone, the knives and guns we love,
like cum and cunt enough for love, hell below us,
hell above, and love the weakest of any drug ...

and yet enough, the sedge that withers beneath us
and the vulture that sings of letters postmarked nowhere,
meaning and meaning's oblivion, Being being oblivion's
menacing meaning, i choose to call them "poems"

almost alone, the truths we have known, faceless
places, and the whores we've grown, the grave
that feeds the cold meat and me still greedy
for the bleeding, a book for devils to read

the sadness of love's bad seed