An American Prayer

do you know the warm progress under the stars?
do you know we exist?
have you forgotten the keys to the kingdom
have you been born yet and are you alive?
let’s reinvent the gods, all the myths of ages
celebrate symbols from deep elder forests
(have you forgotten the lessons of the ancient war?)
we need great golden copulations
the fathers are cackling in trees of the forest
our mother is dead in the sea
do you know we are being lead to slaughters by placid admirals?
and that fat slow generals are getting obscene on young blood
do you know we are ruled by tv?
the moon is a dry blood beast
guerrilla bands are rolling numbers in the next block of green vine
amassing for warfare and innocent herdsmen who are just dying
o great creator of being
grant us one more hour to perform our art and perfect our lives
the moths and atheists are doubly divine and dying
we live, we die and death not ends it…
journey we more into the nightmare
cling to life, our passion’d flower
cling to cunts and cocks of despair
we got our final vision by clap
columbus’ groin got filed w/ green death
(i touched her thigh and death smiled)
we have assembled inside this ancient and insane theatre to propagate our lost life
and flee the swarming wisdom of the streets
the barns are stormed, the windows kept and only one of all the rest
to dance and save us
w/ the divine mockery of words
music inflames temperament
(when the true king’s murderers are allowed to roam free, a 1000 magicians arise in the land)
where are the feats we were promised?
where is the wine, the new wine (dying on the vine)
resident mockery
give us an hour for magic
we of the purple glove
we of the starling flight and velvet hour
we of arabic pleasure’s breed
we of sundome and the night
give us a creed to believe a night of lust
give us trust in the night
give of color hundred hues a rich mandala
for me and you
and for your silky pillowed house
a head, wisdom and a bed
troubled decree
resident mockery has claimed thee
we used to believe in the good old days
we still receive in little ways
the things of kindness and unsporting brow
forget and allow
did you know freedom exists in a schoolbook?
did you know madmen are running our prison?
w/ in a jail, w/ goal, w/in a white free protestant maelstrom
we are perched headlong on the edge of boredom
we are reaching for death on the end of a candle
we are trying for something that has already found us
wow, i’m sick of doubt
living the light of certain south
cruel bindings
the servants have the power
dog-men and their mean women
pulling poor blankets over our sailors
i’m sick of dour faces staring at me from the tv
tower i want roses in my garden bower; dig?
royal babies and rubies must now replace aborted
strangers in the mud
this mutants, blood-meal for the plant that’s plowed
they are waiting to take us into the severed garden
do you know how pale and wanton thrillful comes that on the strange hour?
announced, unplanned for
like a scaring over-friendly guest you’ve brought to bed
death makes angels of us all
and gives us wings where we had shoulders
smooth as the raven’s claws
no more money, no more fancy dress
this other kingdom seems by far the best
until it’s other jaw reveals incest
and loose obedience to a vegetable law.
i will not go-
prefer a feast of friends
to the giant family…