The Only Triad worth Knowing
"The unwashed hero is
an unheralded glint
in our caverns;
the cave pearl submerged
I am in love.
I am in love with this color dust.
I am in love with this notion encrusted life
It plummets from the pink dawn
From ancient runes draw breath
sealed by tobacco tongues; sanguine snarls.
It slips vaccines through the
rough flesh of every room;
coursing the cracks of my Elektra complex;
asking me for a new concept.
These shoddy sages; my family men;
My love affair with the afterlife.
Regiment will never merge with rapture;
And maybe I am the snowflake
that Jack London couldn’t quite conceive;
I am forever self-fashioned,
and not too tastefully done.
Here’s to flesh!
Here’s to numbers!
Here’s to booming gatherings
and strangled support groups..
To the hearth of understanding.
To being kissed by eloquence
and disarmed at every comma;
Unseen functions, very much
a written realm, very much alive!
Our default faces; My Gen Y spectrum!
The confidences of conflicted men;
The life-grudge to lose life!
Love for creatures, love for wire,
fashioned and consumed!
Love for the furious activists who brought you forth
to the monks of past that drew you near
to the white collared devils that stole the world;
Your world of higher texture!
Love for the mongrels I call affinity;
For the children who make their way;
Love for the disheartened mother
and the derision of our fathers;
“If our fathers are our models for God,”
then God is convention, submerging.