Thursday, June 29, 2006


I am the spitoon that is spat at
And spat out, spitting fire, I`m shat out
And shout out, splitting the sky with infant bile
Carving an arc across this dumb grey dome
Our cave, our cage, our home
Beneath whose bleak forbidding glowering eye,
We cast our lies
Our griefs, our needs, our compromise,
Carve vastly impious vainglorious lives
Imperious, imperial, vile
Or hunched beneath the skies dark carcass
Our carapace, our canvas, our catacomb, our mausoleum
We spit fire and smoke upon the jeweled cloak, spill petroleum
Choking around us, the hell we provoke and promote
Terminal antfarm, building sky-scraping nests to the stars so remote
While eating our world, pests of endless appetite
One day our world will be but a wound
Scarred and dead as mars
Infancy holds it, spitting ancestral rage
Tiny fists, it`s marching infantry
This is our hard-wired legacy of idiocy
But only idiots can really see,
And we ignore idiots, don`t we?


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