now death the criminal
Posted: January 30th, 2014, 2:59 am
Now death itself is the criminal
Death with the face of a whore
with the downtrodden, dispossessed and poor
death with with the face of the black sun
death better then a plastic jesus on the dashboard
death now appearing in the guise of a grandmother
a skeleton with the shape of a lover
a skull whose mask welcomes the other
she exists on the edge of civilization and time
she is the most wanted for the crime of existence
calling to the dispossessed who exist in the vacuum
between arbitrary heaven and manufactured hell
between saints and sinners who define each other
she excepts all who enter her sleazy realm
decked with cheap perfume and holy rose water
with trinkets of terror and toys of torture with drugs, guns
and offerings of Night train bottles and Thunderbird
waiting in the intoxicating rain for a fix of oblivion
the word is out death herself is a criminal among gypsies
and thieves, she stands surrounded by the fall of leaves
she glows in the mist of history like the ultimate question mark
there with the fallen angels of dirty novels and killer poetry
somewhere between light and dark she excepts your sins
as tribute only if you offer them to her with a complete memory
where your entire life passes before you and her in the flame
of the candles that surround the endless ceremony of passing
she demands your pleasure as you make love to her in total
surrender to her charms and her bridal veil of redemption
death the criminal by those who shovel her under the carnival carpet
those who try to bury her in plastic flowers made in factories overseas
those who try to cover her nakedness of spirit with magazine covers
death the criminal that lives in your maze of contraband consciousness
who hangs out in churches and temples and the underground headquarters
there she is in all her marginalized glory if you come close she will tell
you her story of dust and betrayal of all who have been dumped in this world
Death with the face of a whore
with the downtrodden, dispossessed and poor
death with with the face of the black sun
death better then a plastic jesus on the dashboard
death now appearing in the guise of a grandmother
a skeleton with the shape of a lover
a skull whose mask welcomes the other
she exists on the edge of civilization and time
she is the most wanted for the crime of existence
calling to the dispossessed who exist in the vacuum
between arbitrary heaven and manufactured hell
between saints and sinners who define each other
she excepts all who enter her sleazy realm
decked with cheap perfume and holy rose water
with trinkets of terror and toys of torture with drugs, guns
and offerings of Night train bottles and Thunderbird
waiting in the intoxicating rain for a fix of oblivion
the word is out death herself is a criminal among gypsies
and thieves, she stands surrounded by the fall of leaves
she glows in the mist of history like the ultimate question mark
there with the fallen angels of dirty novels and killer poetry
somewhere between light and dark she excepts your sins
as tribute only if you offer them to her with a complete memory
where your entire life passes before you and her in the flame
of the candles that surround the endless ceremony of passing
she demands your pleasure as you make love to her in total
surrender to her charms and her bridal veil of redemption
death the criminal by those who shovel her under the carnival carpet
those who try to bury her in plastic flowers made in factories overseas
those who try to cover her nakedness of spirit with magazine covers
death the criminal that lives in your maze of contraband consciousness
who hangs out in churches and temples and the underground headquarters
there she is in all her marginalized glory if you come close she will tell
you her story of dust and betrayal of all who have been dumped in this world