PERSONAL MAN, PERSONAL WORLD
Carrying On About The World And My Broken Heart
Whatever Sh***’s In Your Head (Rap Lyrics)
Cleaning Lady To A Spider’s Web
Little Boy Black Lightning (All The Way)
Laughing And Running In The Sun
Carrying On About The World And My Broken Heart
Carrying on
about the world
and my broken heart.
This small voice
can’t shut up
because crying over nothing
has brought me to
the door of everything.
One woman
taught me about
all the heartache of the world,
the weight of
history
fell on top of me
through her,
in her leaving
the injustice of ages of
squandered lives
I could never have felt
exploded in
my soul,
the emptiness
that came from inside me
showed me the way
back outside.
After one thousand days of poetry,
I was ready to
rejoin time,
to fight again:
for the woman I lost
was everything the world
needs.
Now I know
what it means
to be
a human being,
I know the hole
that has to be filled
because it’s in me.
Thanks to her.
The woman who I lost
where the little meets
the large.
It’s the point
where the lever
of my irrelevance
could move the earth.
Angel’s trumpet
in human hands
blew
low places
into the world.
They couldn’t hear
the notes of
Heaven,
could only
blow
their falling.
Angel’s trumpet
left me alone,
their false understanding
became oblivious,
left me crying
all night
for the light
they didn’t have.
Love discharge.
OK, I’m good.
Now get back
to killing.
Prove I’m more than
a gun,
give you some pennies
and some tears.
To live with yourself
you’ve got to
get rid of that
feeling
that you just
don’t give a damn,
so find one
zone of caring.
That will let you
freeze the
rest of the earth.
Oh no,
got to prove I can
love!
Find somebody,
find something!
Got to prove
I’m not just
about killing.
Loving one person
gives you the right to let
the bullets fly.
Love discharge.
Get it out of the system
before it cramps
the style of the night.
Love discharge.
It could even be a dog.
Take him for a walk,
then get back to your gun.
Love discharge.
Got to love one place
so you can hate everything else.
Sometimes the feeling’s
strong,
like some kind of moral
static electricity
building up inside,
got to touch something,
see the blue spark
of your goodness
jump out in the dark
without letting it
get in the way.
Showing it
is the best way
to leave it.
Love discharge.
Look in your
mirror that one false
moment
of helping,
then
avert your
eyes forever.
Pull the trigger,
now it’s OK to kill:
you love.
Love discharge.
A little love goes a long way
towards destroying the world.
Wake up and smell the coffee.
Daddy lied.
He’s got a dark room
out in back.
Wake up and smell the coffee.
Don’t want to believe it!
Don’t want to believe it!
Tears for who Daddy was
could burn the world up.
Wake up and smell the coffee.
How do you think he knows
it all so well: the
excretory tract
of Mengele?
Hunt the evil-doer
to the ends of the earth,
far from Daddy’s door.
Drown out your fear of knowing
with a war.
Wake up and smell the coffee.
Monster-Target-Man dribbling
electric-shock drool all over
the naked Goddess Liberty:
that’s what got me
in fatigues.
Kill the bastards!
Kill the bastards!
How does Daddy
know this kind of stuff?
He speaks of others’ crimes
so fluently.
Wake up and smell the coffee.
Tweedledum and
Tweedledee of Hell,
in towers of our sacrifice,
ringing righteous bells.
Tell me we didn’t die in vain.
Daddy, I believed you!
Daddy, I believed you!
Tell me it’s going to be all right.
Tell me the sun didn’t die,
it’s still there
on the other side of night.
Wake up and smell the Coffee.
Time to leave home, son,
Daddy lied.
A free heart can make a new home
where the dogs pooped.
Everyone else just runs for cover
outside the loop.
For a slave
it’s always too late,
Daddy owns Time;
like Siamese twins,
they’re joined at the mind.
When Daddy matters more than God,
the world pisses blood.
Wake up and smell the coffee.
Daddy lied.
Better to cry, than to
close your eyes.
Wake up and smell the coffee.
Time to grow up,
leave Daddy at the head
of an empty table.
Coffee in the morning.
Bye, Dad.
Coffee in the morning.
Sad, true coffee
in the morning.
Rain
that’s one degree
above snow
Freezing
without changing
a thing
No new look
just shivering
at the last level of
sameness that
you can bear
Despues de la caida
Didn’t we have a good time dancing?
Didn’t we have a good time emptying the glass?
Didn’t we make sweet love together?
Everything good must pass.
Nights in Atlantis
they’re gone, but we had them
No one can take that
from you or me
Nights in Atlantis,
we lived to the fullest
till it all
sank beneath the sea
Wasn’t life like a genie then?
If you wanted something, all you had to do was ask.
What difference was there between us and gods?
Everything good must pass.
Nights in Atlantis
they’re gone, but we had them
No one can take that
from you or me
Nights in Atlantis,
we lived to the fullest
till it all
sank beneath the sea
Crimes or conscience,
who cares in that golden land?
The stupor called life
makes its own rules for the strong.
God comes later,
but cowards come first,
to defend 4 AM against 3 AM.
It’s all the same till the dawn.
But some dreams sink
and others go on.
Everyone falls,
even the ones who watch others fall.
Some live first.
Nights in Atlantis
they’re gone, but we had them
No one can take that
from you or me
Nights in Atlantis,
we lived to the fullest
till it all
sank beneath the sea
Bad is Good
Bad is Good
Bad is Good
Bad is Good
Bad is Good
Bad is Good
Bad is Good
Bad is Good
Bad is Good
Bad is Good
Bad is Good
Bad is Good
Bad is Good
Bad is Good
Bad is Good
Bad is Good
They think that
hammers
are stronger
than truth.
But one day
the hammer
will break
on an awakened mind,
on a heart
that has no door.
Bad is Good
Bad is Good
Bad is Good
Bad is Good
Bad is Good
Bad is Good
Bad is Good
Bad is Good
The bigger lies grow
the harder it becomes
for them to cover over
what is obvious.
Like dead bodies
they begin to decompose
in the soil
of a question.
Enough of God is in us
to ask.
Bad is Good
Bad is Good
Bad is Good
Bad is Good
The seas
wear out continents,
lies wear out
themselves.
Something begins to feel wrong.
Cattle herds
are only moments
in time.
Power bases
built on stolen minds
may seem to be forever
like the pyramids
but time turns every top-heavy deception
into a house of cards.
Bad is Good
Bad is Good
Lies weaken
as blood is lost.
Caged birds
have winged souls,
they know there’s a sky
even if the shades
are drawn.
And blackboards
can’t teach over
the divine noise inside;
griping with dreams,
the discomfort capsizes
lessons
of paradise.
Bad is Good
Says who?
The sons say no.
History won’t be saved,
but it won’t be
owned.
There will always be
truth,
or fighting for the truth.
Bad is Bad
Good is Good
We’ll get the
world back again.
Their lies will give it
back to us.
I got the following message,
washed up in a bottle
from the sea:
I am Jacobo Arbenz III,
they did it to me again.
My green land
was turned upside down
by a heavy, sunburned hand
that didn’t belong
where the birds sing.
For a stolen fruit
they slit the throat
of the boy
who was studying
to be an angel,
they angered blue mountains
in the distance
but flew above them,
owning what they never touched
with a signature,
they deposed the midwives
and turned the magic, waiting for the night,
into endless fields of barren wealth
fertilized
by the bodies of those who came
before the orphans.
Dreams and blood,
they’re colors that clash,
nothing I wanted was ever
far from my mother's womb.
How did it plant the seeds
of weapons?
The soft guitar and
the one night when a woman’s face
seemed to be everything,
untouched by the burning sun:
even that was taken
from the flag.
Now, the only two colors left
are them,
and what they can
get from us.
And my palace was
ringed by bayonets
of progress.
Living in the land my whole life,
I didn’t know
what it was good for,
they had to teach me
with guns
in my hallways.
They had to
christen the ship
of their vision
with broken streets
and mothers
searching for their sons.
And once again,
I’m back here in the shadows,
washed up on the island
of getting
in the way.
I’m Jacobo Arbenz III,
wondering when this
dynasty of outcasts will end,
wondering when my green land
will have a friend.
Look for me
between the cracks
of the newspaper
in your hands;
all night I weave tears
into spider webs
to catch your awareness
that’s flying away with
my home.
I throw bottles
into the sea,
wondering if they will ever find the shore
of an ear,
hurl a hundred thousand hearts
into the wind:
because I still choose to believe
in ignorance,
instead of sin.
I am Jacobo Arbenz III,
saying what I said yesterday,
which is what I must say,
today, again.
I am Jacobo Arbenz III
throwing truth
into the sea.
Dolphin-safe tuna.
Hey, what about me?!
I’m the tuna!
Tiredness makes
great answers.
Walls you can’t
get over
make convenient
conclusions.
When you can’t go faster,
it’s a wonderful consolation
to tell yourself
that there’s no place further to go.
Maps of the world
are drawn
by weary spirits.
And we are all afraid
to fall off of the flat earth
of someone else’s
limitations.
God bless
the outlaw’s wife.
The one who
eclipsed the hangman
and the cowardly mob,
with a kiss
of thick and thin.
She stood by his
incited pride
before its time,
before "criminal" was crossed out
and replaced
with "hero."
In times of spit
and jeering,
she loaded his gun,
she hid
the ammunition
under her dress,
she said good-bye.
She soothed his last night
with memories
that hateful, blind wrongs
could not
suffocate.
In the dark prison
where they put him
to be alone,
he was not alone,
because she loved him:
something stronger
than bars
and walls
and being born
in the middle of the night.
And then,
after that intended tomb of darkness,
when the daylight
of contempt
stabbed his eyes,
and they hoped
for him to tremble,
pouring all their powerless power
over him
like mud,
he saw her
standing like a light
in the corner
and it was enough
not to break
among all those
brave enough to see another die.
His proud smile,
as the rope whispered
one last chance
to lose
about his frail neck,
was like a final kiss,
a thanks,
and a mirror
that showed her
the power
of her love,
the holiness
of her loyalty
overpowering all her faults;
when there was nothing else to do
she had become a lioness -
she was mighty herself
and mighty through him,
the gallows were his way
of telling her.
God bless
the outlaw’s wife.
As she watched him die
she saw the power of her work.
God bless
the outlaw’s wife.
Holy
as the Mother of God.
She’s not a woman,
she’s a spirit.
She’s not a woman,
she’s a spirit.
Don’t look at her that way.
Don’t look at her that way.
Even when she forgets,
don’t look at her that way.
She’s not a woman,
she’s a spirit.
She’s not a woman,
she’s a spirit.
White Buffalo Woman
came into your life.
White Buffalo Woman
came into your life.
She was never going to be your wife.
She was never going to be your wife.
Even though she smiled like you were the one.
She was never going to be your wife.
White Buffalo Woman
is here for the world.
White Buffalo Woman
is here for the world.
White Buffalo Woman
White Buffalo Woman
Mother and Sister of the world
She’s not your girl
Let her pass
White Buffalo Woman
Mother and Sister of the world
She’s not here
with that kind of love.
She’s not here
with that kind of love.
Step to the side of her high heart.
Step to the side of her high heart.
Your loneliness is your own concern.
Step to the side of her high heart.
She’s not here
with that kind of love.
She’s not here
with that kind of love.
She’s not a woman,
she’s a spirit.
She’s not a woman,
she’s a spirit.
Don’t look at her that way.
Don’t look at her that way.
Even when she forgets,
don’t look at her that way.
She’s not a woman,
she’s a spirit.
She’s not a woman,
she’s a spirit.
White Buffalo Woman
White Buffalo Woman
Mother and Sister of the world
She’s not your girl
Let her pass
White Buffalo Woman
Mother and Sister of the world
It’s just a little boat in a big, big sea
a nice idea drifting on a giant reality
The waves of every defense are rising up like walls
What a time to discover that I really don’t know it all
And my little boat to make a difference
is being bludgeoned by the storm
Sometimes I want to give it up
and just find some place that’s warm
And it’s between me and the sea now
darling, with you left out
You don’t even know I’m here
or what this lonely death is all about
Dreams make hermits and lose love
Obsessions are just victims of the sea
Next time the water rolls up on the beach
please let it touch your feet
Let all that’s left of me
apologize for being me
Whatever S***’s In Your Head (Rap Lyrics)
Whatever s***’s in your head
is gonna find a way to come out
Whatever s***’s in your head
is gonna find a way to come out
Bible won’t stop it,
got a bomb, you’ll drop it
Koran won’t uproot it,
got a gun you’ll shoot it
What a good flag God’s become
now that you killed the Holy Ones
Whatever sh***’s in your head
is gonna find a way to come out
Whatever sh****’s in your head
is gonna find a way to come out
Bible, Bible,
what can you do for my trigger finger?
Bible, Bible,
don’t say No, take me to an island
in your page
that will my let me build
a bonfire of my rage
And God said:
Got hate in your aura
go to the chapter about
Soddom and Gommorah
Destroy everything below
Be the avenging angel
of things you don’t even know
Got cruelty in your soul
go to the chapter about
the walls of Jericho
kill every man, woman, child, ass, and ox
in the name of what you aren’t
go to the doors of happy homes
and break the locks
Watch the smoke rise high
cause you got to maim, kill, or own
Sinful city - invent it, then watch it die
Love your neighbor as yourself
Forget that part
Love your neighbor as yourself
Forget that part
Whatever s***’s in your head
is gonna find a way to come out
Whatever s***’s in your head
is gonna find a way to come out
Bible won’t stop it,
got a bomb, you’ll drop it
Koran won’t uproot it,
got a gun you’ll shoot it
What a good flag God’s become
now that you killed the Holy Ones
Whatever sh***’s in your head
is gonna find a way to come out
Whatever sh****’s in your head
is gonna find a way to come out
Mohammed won’t end it
you’ll use him to defend it
Jesus won’t curb it
you’ll use him to serve it
Moses won’t nab it
you’ll shoot from behind his tablets
Whatever s***’s in your head
is gonna find a way to come out
Whatever sh***’s in your head
is gonna find a way to come out
Nothing will hold you back
cause everything flows
through the banks of who you already are
You won’t be changed - you’ll change it
Ride the river away from the mountain
to the lowest place
No doubt, no doubt
Jug with holes
only lets the water out
Whatever sh***’s in your head
is gonna find a way to come out
Whatever sh***’s in your head
is gonna find a way to come out
Buddha, Jesus, Lao Tsu, Mohammed and Moses
all came to dinner one holy night
And you poisoned each and every one of them
They came to save you
but first they had to go through you
and by the time they came out
they were just a tool
Can you filter out the light?
Can you filter out the light?
Cause someone’s got to die tonight
Prism of a dark mind
only lets the darkness through
Can you filter out the light?
Can you filter out the light?
Cause someone’s got to die tonight
Find the words that kill, and leave them in
Find the words that love, and cut them out
Break the wild horse, the Holy Book,
and ride him to where you already are
A pair of scissors can do more damage
than nine-inch nails
And what do you carry God in?
Jug of holes
only lets the water out
Jug of holes
only lets the water out
Whatever s***’s in your head
is gonna find a way to come out
Whatever s***’s in your head
is gonna find a way to come out
Bible won’t stop it,
got a bomb, you’ll drop it
Koran won’t uproot it,
got a gun you’ll shoot it
What a good flag God’s become
now that you killed the Holy Ones
Whatever sh***’s in your head
is gonna find a way to come out
Whatever sh****’s in your head
is gonna find a way to come out
The parted seas, they walked into the lions’ den,
they climbed ladders into Heaven,
they multiplied the loaves
but they couldn’t raise your soul
you turned them all into blood and gold
Couldn’t they see you coming?
Couldn’t they see you coming?
Why does a beautiful woman go walking
alone on a dark street,
Why does a beautiful soul give eloquence
to a beast?
They should have left you standing naked
with your hate
Go on and pray
Go on and pray
that nothing will get in the way
of you and your heart of night
Take a little piece of light
before it’s light
it will make the perfect knife
Whatever s***’s in your head
is gonna find a way to come out
Whatever sh***’s in your head
is gonna find a way to come out
Bible won’t stop it,
got a bomb, you’ll drop it
Koran won’t uproot it,
got a gun you’ll shoot it
What a good flag God’s become
now that you killed the Holy Ones
Whatever sh***’s in your head
is gonna find a way to come out
Whatever sh****’s in your head
is gonna find a way to come out
Big Fat Holy Man
of the beer-drinking babies,
bring them into the
Church of Pretend
where they don’t have to
change a thing.
Clap your hands and sing!
Clap your hands and sing!
Big Fat Holy Man
of the ticking time-bomb losers,
bring them into the
Church of Carnage
where they can get even
with everything
Clap your hands and sing!
Clap your hands and sing!
Big Fat Holy Man
of the black sheep nation,
bring them into the
Church of Ease
where holiness is what
you’re already doing
Clap your hands and sing!
Clap your hands and sing!
Big Fat Holy Man
of the killer deer in the headlights,
bring them into the
Church of you
so you can be the
newborn king
Throw out the book of the
naked girl
Snow White’s bullets rule
the world
Family values start with
guzzling gas
And end with nights of
broken glass
Big Fat Holy Man’s gonna MC
the holy crash
Hallelujah!
Hallelujah!
Hallelujah!
Poke out my soul’s eye
so I can join the holy troops.
Hell always travels in groups.
Big Fat Holy Man’s easier to follow
than God;
and he hurt less than
the Truth.
All hail the newborn king!
Clap your hands and sing!
And the firing squad
is getting closer
Holy Man’s lining us up
with lies,
just drew an "X"
between my eyes.
Conscience: I deny you
thrice.
I don’t know you
I don’t know you
I don’t know you
Holy Man’s got the keys to life
The Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost
just became mob rule,
and they’re armed with what love
denied you.
Big Fat Holy Man
Let him translate God for you
or the lightning bolt of putty minds
in his hands
will strike you down
in the silent space of your
blasphemy
of loving God.
Big Fat Holy Man
Go into his Church and get the stamp
of approval of the sick
on your forehead and on your wrist
Jesus is the face he’s given to 666
And the first shall be last
And the first shall be last
Last in the minds of the deceived
If you got enough soldiers,
you can get through the
eye of the needle.
What profits a man to gain the world
and lose his soul?
Big Fat Holy Man doesn’t care
There’s lots of clay to shape
before the Pearly Gates
and lots of Heavens
that have no gate
He never saw an angel
and an angel never stopped him
Big Fat Holy Man,
for an unholy age
Clap your hands and sing!
Clap your hands and sing!
Bow down to live:
all hail the newborn king!
Sword of a thousand idiots.
Let yourself be used
and you’ll go to Hell.
I’ve been too soft on you.
Loving you,
I forgot who was in the path
of your bullets.
She could’ve been my mother.
The mother of the me
I need to be,
if I hadn’t loaded your guns for you
by trying to understand you.
Why did I let you off the hook?
I blamed the magician
who pulled you out of his hat:
but rabbits can say no.
Sword of a thousand idiots.
You let yourself be wielded,
your broken will fell asleep
like a worthless sentry by your soul,
thieves stole the world
from your murderous innocence.
Without you, Hitler would’ve spent
his life spitting at the statues
he didn’t make,
Mussolini would have
thrown stones at pigeons.
What the monster’s isolated genius needs,
your thoughtless numbers always give him.
You are the ones who make the exception
be the rule, the curse of history.
You turn the ruthless loner into
the Queen Bee,
and swarm and sting the world
for her greed.
Sword of a thousand idiots.
No, you’ve gone too far!
When you saw the blood,
you still stayed in his hands.
Sword of a thousand idiots.
He cut and slashed the earth with you.
Without you, he would have spent his life
screaming at mountains that didn’t listen.
Sword of a thousand idiots.
Weaklings always fall prey
to the flatterer
who pets them as they die.
Ignorance loses its virginity
when a child bleeds.
Sword of a thousand idiots.
I wish I could forgive you.
But the eyes of the dead
are looking back at me.
Tonight, I must
speak for them.
Big dog
went ahead
on the path
God gave me
and took a shit.
Now I can’t be
myself
without walking in
crap.
It’s like being Hitler’s son.
I drew the Hanged Man,
so he could be the Sun.
Cannibal ate my heart
to get my courage,
went far in the world,
feeding on what I
could’ve done.
It’s like being Hitler’s son.
When I came with the
cure for cancer,
the world came with torches:
burned my house down,
because I was close enough.
They ran from the lion,
and killed the cub.
It’s like being the Devil’s effigy.
Kick it around
cause he owns the earth.
It’s like being an American flag
in Iran.
Set fire to me
cause I’m the only part of it
they can understand.
How I hate the man
who locked me out
of my own house
with his sins!
I can’t get this Hitler mustache
off of my inner beauty.
How I hate you!
I can’t bring more gold
than what you stole.
I’ll always be the grave
of someone they loved.
How I hate you!
Your life is the
Wicker Man
in which I burn.
How I hate you!
You sacrificed me,
and God gave you the world.
Cannon and God.
The one didn’t come.
Crying mother waited,
and the one didn’t come.
Vengeful brother sat down
by his abandonment
and studied the laws
of gunpowder.
The idea of the barrel
came to him
when he visited
the grave
behind the Church,
the place where his mother
died each day.
How he came to hate
the cross around her neck!
It seemed it strangled her
like the hand of the one
who made her weep.
Vengeful brother didn’t succumb
to stained glass pleas,
the choir of peace
degraded him.
And one night
he perfected the fury
of his inheritance.
The cannonball was like
gold in the rock,
his mind mined it
from the one place
he’d ever been loved.
The flash was his retort.
He’d invented God.
His enemy screamed Eureka.
From then on,
no one ever waited,
the walls came down
because there was no answer.
In moments of self-made divinity
the void was filled,
hope returned
as blood.
Cannon and God.
The one didn’t come.
That’s how
the other became
ruler of the earth.
Your expert.
Your excuse
not to think.
His sin.
Your soul.
Ignorance of the law
is no excuse.
Your excuse
not to think.
One times ten thousand
is one.
Democracy is the bodyguard
of the King.
His sin.
Your soul.
Ignorance of the law
is no excuse.
Book of lies has led
many a good reader
to the grave.
Close the book, write a new one
with your eyes.
His sin.
Your soul.
Good intentions don’t exist
until you own
your
hollow space.
Don’t let other souls
fill you up:
it’s not a shortcut,
it’s a capitulation.
Beware the man who knows it all.
Beware the man
who knocks on your door
with the truth.
The world won’t make sense
in thirty seconds.
Drowning men know a straw
won’t save them.
Yet nations clutch at straws.
They can’t tell they are drowning
in history.
Your expert.
Your excuse
not to think.
He spread a carpet
of convenience
beneath your feet.
His sin.
Your soul.
Angel said: "Birds of a feather
flock together."
Dark mind,
empty mind,
both sink
in the water
of a
burning world.
When you won’t climb the
mountain,
you become the killer.
A hundred million levers,
but only one hand votes.
The one who saves you time
destroys you.
Democracy,
Democracy,
what a wonderful illusion!
Dictator blossoms, like a flower,
with a million tired people
who climb aboard his mind,
their feet of thoughts
are broken,
they need a
ride
to Hell.
The assassin wears a cross.
When you think water is land
how can you be anything but a
lemming?
Wise within his lie,
because your mind is exhausted
by skies beyond reach,
by iron doors in front of
every heart,
you perfect the logic of the betrayed earth.
You are the angel
he uses to
destroy
what needs years.
His sin.
Your soul.
God caught you
copulating in the
bushes of
ignorance.
The unknown is the
best friend of
the strong.
The world won’t make sense
in thirty seconds.
Beware the expert
who comes to rescue you from
your confusion.
He is an expert of his own lust:
he turns his pleasure
into your truth,
he turns his desires
into the laws of nature.
Dictators,
concealed by your
consent:
they rule you
with the bayonets
of your apathy;
your weary wills
are the bombs they drop
on the world.
Have you seen the eyes of the
ones you saved,
staring blindly up at Heaven?
Only you could believe that
rigor mortis
is a form of gratitude.
Your expert.
Your excuse
not to think.
Put a map on the table.
Open up a book.
The angels have gathered round
your towers
in winged retribution
to watch you
devour yourselves
with goodness.
His sin.
Your soul.
Like lovers,
passion made you one.
Loving what was easy,
you lost the beauty
that comes from struggle.
Fever brings the vision.
The quickly-healed die
from simplicity.
God grows unkind
as the fury of mothers mounts;
their tears weigh more in
his balance
than innocence.
There is a point at which exhaustion
becomes murder.
No one can be forgiven for the dead child in the street.
You are responsible for knowing
who is driving your mind.
Put a map on the table.
Open up a book.
The angels have gathered round
your towers
in winged retribution
to watch you
devour yourselves
with goodness.
Your expert.
Your excuse
not to think.
Everything you do not seek
can and will be used
against you.
Your expert.
Your excuse
not to think.
Heil Hitler’s
learned to whisper.
Sleepy Samaritan’s
such a good
storm trooper.
Your expert.
Your excuse
not to think.
One day
the river
of one man
flowed past God
carrying the corpses
of a million minds,
downstream
from conscience slaughtered.
Red flowed from the
undiscovered ideas.
For one more century,
certainty eclipsed
the sun.
But God replies
in the serpent’s own tongue:
"Conquered ones
are not forgiven.
The earth is hemorrhaging
with surrender.
The ones who do not defend
their minds
cannot take shelter behind invaders.
Stand up for a perception of your own!"
The deer who do not run
are the strength of lions,
and the death of deer to come.
His sin.
Your soul.
When nations go berserk
God has to
put out the fire.
They never thought they were wrong.
There is no greater emergency
in Heaven
than a little laziness.
When nations go berserk
God has to put out
the fire.
They never thought they were wrong.
Every moment of greatness
made of lies,
has its Noah,
its beautiful exception,
its beloved bleeding one.
You’re no Noah.
Empty minds drown with
the wills that filled them:
the Rapture is only
for unbelievers.
When nations go berserk
God has to put out
the fire.
Time is filled with the pieces
of evil dreams
shattered by
the hardness of
God’s good.
Empires grow stronger
in the time God gives the ignorant
to wake up.
How patient he is with the transgressions
of the deceived!
But finally he must act,
give a weapon to someone’s indignation.
The clock of justice strikes;
it is the hour when the wolves starve.
They never thought they were wrong.
Is the city on the hill,
or only built upon the pinnacle
of the one who thought for you?
Your expert.
Your excuse
not to think.
Beware the expert
who stands taller than pain,
and cries from his mind.
Tears that don’t wrench a
life off course
are not tears.
His sin.
Your soul.
The bones of experts
bar the way to Eden.
They were only excuses.
Experts and souls.
Choose carefully.
The darkest sins walk softly
on feet of surrender.
Experts and souls.
Your mind is the last outpost of God’s will.
Don’t let it fall
to an expert.
Your expert.
Your excuse
not to think.
His sin.
Your soul.
Our world.
White Crow
isn’t going to come.
Only you
can put your guns down.
Angel
isn’t going to spank you
or let you drink
from God’s cup.
You’ve got to get there
on your broken legs.
You’re the Sabine women
who were raped:
the only ones who can step
between the spears.
Heaven’s died
a thousand deaths
between right and wrong;
the signposts that point up
are pointing to you.
Crying all night long.
Do you need a sign?
Do you need to see her
standing on Tepeyac Hill?
The glowing light is your pain.
She’ll come to you
with a bowl of choice,
with the wine of doubt in her hands:
drink if you don’t want to listen.
She’ll never prove
it didn’t come from you.
Crying all night long.
Your eyes have given you
the answer.
Angel won’t enforce
the obvious.
She’s no succubus,
she gave you the world
with your name.
If you have to see her
not to dishonor her,
you aren’t worthy of her.
White Crow
isn’t going to come.
Only you
can put your guns down.
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