religion is dead
but god still breathes
man will pay any price for certain knowledge.
how many times a day do you think about death, and the fact that you will, maybe soon, die? does this thought ever come upon you without fear. or is it always a cold thing in the pit of your stomach. do you try to imagine what it will be like? that last moment of breath. i do, but it is all in vain. no matter how many times i dream of that bridge, there is no way of knowing it’s weight until i get to it. until i’m a dead man it’s only a pose. when i am dead all of my posing will be done.
for now i sit and contemplate. with the certain knowledge that death’s mouth is open, and so is the womb ever bringing forth life. but someday even that will be shut, and the whole life of man will have passed as a parade.
the end of every philosophy is action
the end of every action is known only to god
there is always a woman on the flying trapeze. there is always one who will run you clean through, and one who will come to stitch you up again. there is always a woman to be read like a book in an unknown language which you try your best to understand by context. there is always a woman. coming or going. mocking you with her stolen oranges. leaving her innards on the bedroom floor. always, there is always a woman. and ever before her a shipfull of fools.
how many centuries of skin have i swallowed
just standing here waiting for my light to turn green
i shouted hallelujah and felt my whole soul jump
like a slave from the ship
to take his chances in the water
there is a figure here
but i can’t make it out
so i listen with patience
to what the colors suggest
supermarket visions of the end of the world
everybody’s face just like a mask on halloween
and the vines creeping over all the ruins of the buildings
i stood there for a beat too long
and she asked me if i wanted cash back
no
thank you
have a good day
i believe i have just peaked underneath your skin
and i saw your body in an oakwood casket
being lowered slowly
into the ground
