my dead son
(dedicated to mothers(and fathers) who lost their children in this senseless war.)
mothers, crumpling, thousands of times over
they lose a son or a daughter, they’re uncle sam’s soldiers…
the new government
slam dunkin’ junkies
who hunt for the mothership
thousands of mothers have dealt with this punishment
delirious, they’re given pyramids.
deaf to all war songs…
blinded by the violence on the television
but when my dead son talks
he tells me there is a war in my living room.
electronic projectile.
I’ve been having an outer body experience
for the last 8 years now.
top 40, constant rotation
disintegration
up against a hotel window,
facing the New York skyline-
most of it.
FOREFINGER/THUMB
to my temple
my church
pours a bucket of blood
on the white house.
back on the farm
I dig in the dirt,
like a pig,
pushing it’s way
into the base of a mango tree.
I’m free!
-no radio waves
but with red dirt up to my biceps
I would look up to see the big picture.
In technicolor.
Male genitalia will stab every orrifice
meaning that black jet,
born out of fear
could dissassemble your thought process
to penetrate
when you are vulnerable.
mind fucked by man so I planted some fruit trees.
rape is a delicate word
wrapped up in the dead flesh
of a sacred childhood.
my innocense is lost.
when I thought that to be the case, it wasn’t.
I was angry because I didn’t fit into my body yet.
I do now.
hit songs from the past
catch phrases, cliches…
what do I have to hold onto?
you?
a world that has moved on?
never.
If I choose to sever ties with society
it will be of no fault of my own.
I feel sick
from feeling nothing in return
my kumquat tree drops helmets
leaves flutter through Iran,
mat Mao.
I see no change
but something called god
put the heels of its palms
over my eyes
pressed down
within neon fractals against black backdrop
I saw energy.
7 billion faces in the lake by the bed of siddhartha.
I will not wake up from this dream
in this lifetime
I will not see a world
in which I see fit
to raise children.
your dead son is mine.
that flag, folded into a pyramid
weighed 10,000 pounds…
no mother could bear the weight.
mothers, crumpling, thousands of times over
they lose a son or a daughter for uncle sam, soldier.
the new government
hunting for motherships
thousands of mothers stand under it…
delirious, they’re given pyramids.
