Saturday, September 4, 2010

Ta' Iowa Song

Of all creation
You are the only
One of God’s children
Gone completely insane
Who I have had any success
Taking care of …

Well there might be a few
More now I might have
Forgotten … who knows?

The day is young,
Neil Young
And long

She greets the morn’
Mourning, gone sour
From the bass drive
Back beat of blue desire

I wish I had her in my back seat,
Still chasing that dream,
Morning gleam …

The rest of the idiots,
Well, the just suck
The marrow
From our bones

But don’t worry
Because I died
The day I was born

Then I stood up too fast
Then I hid the darkness
Then I saw the same ghosts
My mon saw stalking
The Anasazi lands
And then sighted
The bombers
Over Cambodia

And during this breach-birthed
Near death experienced,
Remembered recently
In the hard echo
Of soft white light
In my mind
Brimming dim

Now I’m all post-mortem
And due to this inconvenience
As well as the shame
And cowardliness
And loathing and hopping
Ghosts who also walk

… and also who must
therefore apologize
by changing their faces
after being so cool
in their deep depression
for mere weeks,
soaking the Prozaks
in with Coassacks
living in …

… Among they, I am,
apologizing for my
projected, movie-black,
sandy white, in four corners
upon a scream,
I mean screen
Called life

~ Morning Sun, Iowa

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