Domestic Terrorism and Catholic Guilt (Redux)

Star dust covered jelly roll
Packaged in vintage wrappers and milky lunar landscape
Life is significant in the age of enlightened reason
Reaction is expected and well dictated

Mother no longer calls you home
Living restrained in reasonable risk and legal ramification
I flow like a broken brook
yet I polish the stone smooth
Yet I lay your path home

Bones buried in your credit card statement
Sin is discovered in megabytes not congruent circles draw on the walls
And Miller was right to say we would be the unlucky generation

Candles are an expensive evil
Non-holy dividends
I want to be a part of a sacred Trinity
But much more than you and me and noise of the world

Reminded, I do not spend enough afternoons drunk anymore…
The king finds one less debt, the king shines a burgundy crown on swimming pool blue with chlorine and shark tanks filled with credit card interest
Still nothing is interesting in credit card debts; still the God’s allow my digression

I have antlers 10 feet tall
I have antlers 10 feet tall
They measure my manhood in centimetric foot units
And yes, I made that shit up

Like your Senator’s talking head, I can fit facts into my box
My box is smaller than your box because you are always a bigger whore
A bigger whore than what you promised

Drowned down in the nightingales song
Father, I am not you
Graves haunt the failures to succeed the previous generations humanity and succeed them in financial standing
I am American dysfunctional greed and I wear it better than you

Fuck off, if you must

My toes will not separate
Fish like us are upstream swimmers
Falling in the water
Waiting for our fisher of men

Jesus was a man
Two hands! Two Feet! Ten Toes!
Big fucking holes in his body
Ain’t faith cool?

Yet my divinity is unbound
It is the scent of that spot you smell in my chest every night after we make love which is just a nice way to say fuck
It is the taste of my flesh three hours after you leave
It is the heat of my anger when I am alone

And in the storm of the last day will you ask yourself for forgiven clarity?

Brewing coffee while I sip soda pop from a chipped bottle
And you may ask, “Why didn’t I get Bukowski and and why didn’t I love the Virgin Mary when I knew I had too?”

Altruistic relief, paid for in therapist bills and donations
Still you watch the weather because the difference between your last storm and sunny day is measured in the fullness of your plans!
Measuring your life one minor accomplishment per hour

Wicked men devised daylight savings time
Kiss me good night sweet sparrow
Lips taste like strawberry sandboxes and guitar sounds

Domestic Terrorism and Catholic Guilt (Redux)


Morristown, United States

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Artwork Comments

  • ambersky17
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