no exceptions

our heads bob like river trash

in the downhill flow of human music

and electrical magic - down, down,

down the rutted avenue.

 

angelic deformities and sarcastic verses  

rise to the surface like lifeless bodies - not

bodies of bloated flesh " bodies of work

left to die on the glossy desert page.

their hungry eyes in starry daze, beg

to be used and defiled to feed the fetishes

of the great cannibalistic congregation.

 

“nibble my likeness to the soulless bone,

“vulture my art clean, and lap my tune dry,

“let my dignity be a sacrifice to your pleasure,”

sing the lively dead.

 

upon my singular exodus, black smoke

and white noise strangle the sunset

to the left, and drown the sunrise to the right.

crumbled stone and choked laughter

write bloody histories in gutter scrolls.

the earth reclaims her wayward sheep

one civilization at a time. no exceptions.

 

 

 

Reviews

[MuSe Ampoule]

This is why you're always at the top of my to read pile:
"angelic deformities and sarcastic verses
rise to the surface like lifeless bodies - not
bodies of bloated flesh " bodies of work
left to die on the glossy desert page.
their hungry eyes in starry daze, beg
to be used and defiled to feed the fetishes
of the great cannibalistic congregation."

You bend my mind to the breaking point, only to allow it to be released - to be bent once more.

[Amy Bumpas]

I love these lines:angelic deformities and sarcastic verses
rise to the surface like lifeless bodies - not
bodies of bloated flesh " bodies of work
left to die on the glossy desert page.
their hungry eyes in starry daze, beg
to be used and defiled to feed the fetishes
of the great cannibalistic congregation.


You just tell it like it is and very blunt...no beating around the
bush from you LOL!!

[Ed Hart]

i think it has something to do with the word 'civilization'

[Robin]

sad is the not the death of Art , but of the Art that is neglected , at the whim of vulturous audience ... and as we express our self to a higher calling our mark made , a rune upon the ruins of mankind ...

[Kenneth The Poet]

Very true, R.G. Truer words have never been spoken.