excerpts from a prayer
( , said the shotgun to the head- Saul Williams)
INTRODUCTION:
Have you ever been kissed by God? Passionately (tongue, lipts etc.)? Or are you one who simply condemns God to the realm of the invisible? When do you feel most comfortable? When do you feel most loved? Perhaps it is in the warm embrace of your loveror in the assuring touch of your mother. Perhaps, like me, you have likened this person to God in your life, and realized that God was loving you through them. Or maybe you don't believe in god. Cool. Here's a simpler question: Have you ever lost yourself in a kiss? I mean pure psychedlelic inebriation. Not just lustful petting but transcendental metamorphosis when you became aware that the greatness of this being was breathing into you. Licking the sides and corners of your mouth, like sealing a thousand fleshy envelopes filled with the same essence of your passionate being and then opened by the same mouth and delivered back to you, over and over again-- the first kiss of the rest of your life. A kiss that confirms that the universe is aligned, that the world's greatest resource is love, and maybe even that God is a woman. With or without a belief in God, all kisses are metaphors decipherable by allocations of time, circumstance, and understanding....
Citizens,
Children of the night
bearers of the day torch:
scorched and burned.
BURN NOT
the dam is broken
the curse is fled
once muddied and still,
the river runs RED
"ALL
those ships that never sailed
the ones with their seacocks open
that were scuttled into their stalls
TODAY
i bring them back
HUGE AND INTRANSITORY
and let them sail
FOREVER!"*
if ever there were currents
undercurrent
the wind
could not serve as
truth's currency
Currently
moon marked and sun sparked
unmarked bills (will) i AM
certain
i speak a NEW LANGUAGE
as is ALWAYS
THE FIRST SIGN
of a
NEW AGE
i had begun to believe my blackened toenails
were on the path to decay when in truth,
they had begun the graudal process of
CRYSTALLIZATION
i am he who walks on wind scorched feet with toenails of
AMETHYST AND ROSE QUARTZ
my path noq crystal clear
i AM come to tell you
SHE IS HERE
it is not written
NO pen MAN ship
was ever CARGOED
with her character
Note: books are carefully folded forests
void of autumn
bound from the SUN
Likewise, she made her residence
on the outskirts of a shadowing history
on the darkside of the moon
where the searchlight of the sun
COULD NOT SPOT HER
nor rot her
the sead of forbidden fruit
EVERY TREE
has a hidden root
YET SHE HAS
COME TO LIGHT
THE SWELLING PATCHOWRK
OF VIBRANT DREANMS
yes, there is a science
to the aroma
of sleeping women
(and to think of the girlfriend i was tempted to break up with because she slept too much)
i know now, the NURTURED her there:
they slept in packs
dreamt in cycles
NURSED HER IN SHIFTS
and became her
ON ROTATION
unnamed her
everytime she was named
so that she would not be known to anyone
(even unto her self)
undressed her
everytime she was dressed
so she would not be recognzied
as anyone other than herself
.... my friends
love is an artform
slightly removed from its element
one may ask
well what does that mean?
i respond
i've made it up
but it shall be
from now on
from now on
citites will be built
on one side
of the street
so that soothsayers
will have wilderness to wander
and lovers
space enough
to contemplate
a kiss
she kissed
as if she, alone,
could forge
the signature
of the sun
... to be
or not to...
to see
or not to...
she had eyes like two turntables
mix(h)her
in between
my dreams an reality
blend in ancient themes
the bass is of isis
(basis)
cross-faded to ankh
the beat drops
like a cliff
over-looking
my heart
6000 feet above sea level
3300 bodies
disassembled
the headbone's connected
to the cock pit
knee jerk
ass backwards
dancing slaves
in a mosh pit
punk rock
of gibraltar
roll out
nothing's new
mo blood dyes
the mo hawk
only this time
it's you
and you
never loved her
for what she
possessed
you powdered
her face
and came
on her
head-dress
oil sliked feathers, putrid stenched water-bed
"mother nature's a whore," said the shotgun to the head.
...Behold, a story untold
I HAVE SEEN THE MOON
IN A SUN DRESS
the ocean
beneath her
rippling in laughter
at the sight
of a lone man
who learned to walk on water
for a glimpse
of his truth
in her crater
INTRODUCTION:
Have you ever been kissed by God? Passionately (tongue, lipts etc.)? Or are you one who simply condemns God to the realm of the invisible? When do you feel most comfortable? When do you feel most loved? Perhaps it is in the warm embrace of your loveror in the assuring touch of your mother. Perhaps, like me, you have likened this person to God in your life, and realized that God was loving you through them. Or maybe you don't believe in god. Cool. Here's a simpler question: Have you ever lost yourself in a kiss? I mean pure psychedlelic inebriation. Not just lustful petting but transcendental metamorphosis when you became aware that the greatness of this being was breathing into you. Licking the sides and corners of your mouth, like sealing a thousand fleshy envelopes filled with the same essence of your passionate being and then opened by the same mouth and delivered back to you, over and over again-- the first kiss of the rest of your life. A kiss that confirms that the universe is aligned, that the world's greatest resource is love, and maybe even that God is a woman. With or without a belief in God, all kisses are metaphors decipherable by allocations of time, circumstance, and understanding....
Citizens,
Children of the night
bearers of the day torch:
scorched and burned.
BURN NOT
the dam is broken
the curse is fled
once muddied and still,
the river runs RED
"ALL
those ships that never sailed
the ones with their seacocks open
that were scuttled into their stalls
TODAY
i bring them back
HUGE AND INTRANSITORY
and let them sail
FOREVER!"*
if ever there were currents
undercurrent
the wind
could not serve as
truth's currency
Currently
moon marked and sun sparked
unmarked bills (will) i AM
certain
i speak a NEW LANGUAGE
as is ALWAYS
THE FIRST SIGN
of a
NEW AGE
i had begun to believe my blackened toenails
were on the path to decay when in truth,
they had begun the graudal process of
CRYSTALLIZATION
i am he who walks on wind scorched feet with toenails of
AMETHYST AND ROSE QUARTZ
my path noq crystal clear
i AM come to tell you
SHE IS HERE
it is not written
NO pen MAN ship
was ever CARGOED
with her character
Note: books are carefully folded forests
void of autumn
bound from the SUN
Likewise, she made her residence
on the outskirts of a shadowing history
on the darkside of the moon
where the searchlight of the sun
COULD NOT SPOT HER
nor rot her
the sead of forbidden fruit
EVERY TREE
has a hidden root
YET SHE HAS
COME TO LIGHT
THE SWELLING PATCHOWRK
OF VIBRANT DREANMS
yes, there is a science
to the aroma
of sleeping women
(and to think of the girlfriend i was tempted to break up with because she slept too much)
i know now, the NURTURED her there:
they slept in packs
dreamt in cycles
NURSED HER IN SHIFTS
and became her
ON ROTATION
unnamed her
everytime she was named
so that she would not be known to anyone
(even unto her self)
undressed her
everytime she was dressed
so she would not be recognzied
as anyone other than herself
.... my friends
love is an artform
slightly removed from its element
one may ask
well what does that mean?
i respond
i've made it up
but it shall be
from now on
from now on
citites will be built
on one side
of the street
so that soothsayers
will have wilderness to wander
and lovers
space enough
to contemplate
a kiss
she kissed
as if she, alone,
could forge
the signature
of the sun
... to be
or not to...
to see
or not to...
she had eyes like two turntables
mix(h)her
in between
my dreams an reality
blend in ancient themes
the bass is of isis
(basis)
cross-faded to ankh
the beat drops
like a cliff
over-looking
my heart
6000 feet above sea level
3300 bodies
disassembled
the headbone's connected
to the cock pit
knee jerk
ass backwards
dancing slaves
in a mosh pit
punk rock
of gibraltar
roll out
nothing's new
mo blood dyes
the mo hawk
only this time
it's you
and you
never loved her
for what she
possessed
you powdered
her face
and came
on her
head-dress
oil sliked feathers, putrid stenched water-bed
"mother nature's a whore," said the shotgun to the head.
...Behold, a story untold
I HAVE SEEN THE MOON
IN A SUN DRESS
the ocean
beneath her
rippling in laughter
at the sight
of a lone man
who learned to walk on water
for a glimpse
of his truth
in her crater
posted by Jessica @ 7:57 AM
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