Archive for September, 2007
Uterus
From the spoken word album Puissance -1 by Big-Hired Assassin
exiled from your garden
the man left gently
imagining
a new place
and wondering
if this was the last time
he would think of you
or you, of him
he was a virgin
innocent and pure
now, half empty and dead
he knows he is no longer
a part of you
the umbilical cord
was severed years ago
and the afterbirth
put an end to the truce
Vagrant
From the spoken word album Puissance -1 by Big-Hired Assassin
forgive me for dancing w/ the dead
in their ring of fire
for lounging in their chairs
and hearing their tales
deliver us from evil
tyranny
blood swept vagrant
you are just under the weather
forget the others
i want to live in azure w/ the fiends
i want to taste their wine
and smoke w/ them
amongst the ruins
where the dogs bark
and the bloated man plays the piano
w/ weariness and worry for the peasants
the queen is popping pills in the attic
w/ the servants
i am amazed by her sullen mood
the ghastly grin
as she cuts her wrists
w/ rubber razor blades
given to her
by me
as the pool is drained
and the evidence is properly disposed of
i can imagine the orchestrated version
the one that stays w/ me
i can no longer apologize
for being truant
it was by my absence
that i came to be
Defect Of Birth
From the spoken word album Puissance -1 by Big-Hired Assassin
relax.
no one will ever find out.
no one cares about the dead
and their shortness of breath.
the ships of cargo going elsewhere,
as long as the virus doesn’t settle
where their tv is
and it doesn’t upset their stomach
or leave them with diarrhea.
hail the loose-lipped censored screens
of the phantom, and in return,
great material wealth
will come knocking at your door.
surely, this cannot continue.
we’ll find the secret to space
before we understand the importance
of the sacred omen of art.
need i say more?
Desperation
From the spoken word album Puissance -1 by Big-Hired Assassin
margaret
where are the countless flowers this spring
where is the new moon
shining casually in through the castle
the peasants & the freaks & the jugglers
where are they
bound by forgotten memories
& lost in the essence of nostalgia
tired madman
searching for inner peace
somewhere past the sea
past the meaningless colors
somewhere
there is a place for me
If I Were An Ape
From the spoken word album Puissance -1 by Big-Hired Assassin
leave me alone
i need to dwell in the pits w/ the servants
i have to hear the conversations
i have to know what is said to the dying man
join me in the meadows
w/ the giants and the silent elders
children play hop-scotch on the radio
w/ obscene laughter
w/ profane chlorine souls
w/ the corpse of our weak president
w/out thinking about it
w/o the fear
w/o the torturous thoughts
there is no need to dissect the insects
the breeding habits of mammals
oxygen is on sale at sears
the american people are scarred bitter and useless
every great nation falls
one w/ the symbol of a bird, or so it has been written
amphetamine horoscope
the horizon, pink and orange and polluted w/ cowardice
i am bored
there is nothing left to see
or to feel in this morass of hatred
the windows have plywood over them
the halls have zombies roaming them
there are men responsible for these designs
they are sordid
they are putrid
they are tying the hands of our families w/ barb wire
and suffocating us w/ promises, which mean nothing,
from men w/ barbaric tongues
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