Sunday, August 29, 2010

The sacrifice of knuckles

The sacrifice of knuckles

Golden tongues
Rampant dogs
They all must die
Throw them like the strain
Cover them with whispers
Their souls are old ghosts
Open the treasure
Smell the aroma
Call up the ashes
Blood knife cuts
The chanting stink
Of bones
Old bones
New bones
They all gather moss
Giving more
Of themselves
As your anger rages on
Against torture
Against injustice
Worry the worn
On this diadem
You fell for love
And progress
Always the caretaker
Two queer words
Chopped up in little pieces
Brothers of anger
Standing knee deep
In willfulness
All naughty boys
Under their feet
A death machine march
Gone away
With a thousand tongues
Living on dimes and nickels
The secret lives of knowing
They crawl out of words
Stand upon the metaphor
Watch the ink dry
Like the blood of dreams
So slowly
Yes, I know
They can’t be true
But, I think they are
Lost spells

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