Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Disembodied in softly glowing tubes of
Lavahot paranoia floating spitting rhymes
Of apocalypse in our face, giving chase, their
Heads on a screen at every corner, no quarter,
Spitting like semiautomatic fire in a liquor store hit
Gone bad, heads red and redder, foreheads larger,
Lips moving faster than hummingbird wings,
Hanging on their every word of redemption.

Maybe it is significant that apocalypse from the Greek means the pulling back of the veil.
or revealing. Of course there are all those hot heads that just have to be right, because the Bible told them so..This poem has a lot of layers, it's like we are all in a liquor store robbery
and happen to be bystanders, and Bukowski walks in and says I am a poet.

exceptional lines, "spitting like semiautomatic fire..." and "lips moving faster than hummingbird wings".

kickin', Mark...kickin'...

yes indeed...."lips moving faster than humming bird wings"....what a line

Craig- yes. Opium of the masses and all. Sometimes most of religion (in its many forms) and history seems like a liquor store hit... Gone bad?

Cecil, Mark, rockon...