a hot near apocalyptic sun shines on my head as i shuffle through the sand and remember
the words of first snake to first man in which they agreed that first snake would always
shake his rattles to warn of his presence and in return first man would never trod on first
snake’s head but now as we head into the modern world a few things have been put aside
in tourist shops where first man’s appearance has undergone a radical change into a
preternaturally tanned being who only passes through the desert that was once home and
poor first snake has had his home taken away and exists in tourist dumps in an altered
state of life called death and the people who are no longer anything like first man laugh
and take first snake home to use as door stops that never stop the door from closing on
the agreement which we made and for which we shall one day be forced to uphold
Legends of the Southwest
i greet you with open mind and closed mouth and say the things you can't
hear with your head in the clouds of smoke arising from your busy feet
as you beat a path in the circle of life singing songs from Hair and
never shaving and never bathing and listening to the drunken revelry of
a thousand wanna be mariachis who batter their wives who butter their
tortillas in a desert glowing under an absent ozone layer and who's to
say who's to blame when the acid rain that washes away your tears washes
away your ability to smile as you melt up to your legs in safely buried
toxic waste in lead coffins and the lead from your coffin glows in the
night and lights the landscape of petrified forest where coyote crouches
and along with raven laughs when the sun comes up and first man is no
more.
Untitled
the gun in your hand that is pointed at my head causes fire in my gut that makes me want to
shout lift my hands up shout raise the roof and in my moment when my life is supposed to flash
before my eyes all i see are bugs bunny and elmer fudd and i long for a carrot to spit in your face
before i make my cartoon exit easily dodging bullets that make holes but never kill and i know
that my blood won’t be on your hands or on the street and then i see from your eyes that you
don’t care who i am and don’t know that i have ran with the tigers in an indian jungle or spun my
prayer wheel with the holy men of tibet or even care that what i feel is sorrow because sorrow is
what you want me to feel as you fill my body with your hate and now i have a different angle on
things and did you know that even in the city in the day in a building you can see the milky way
and how fast it moves towards us and the sun good old sol is becoming a memory and i wonder
where is the tunnel of light and my guide to meet me or cerebus or the ferry man or janis who i
was listening to when you decided i had lived my full quota of time and should go to a jazzy
place with lady day and ella and learn to scat and i wonder why i never took singing lessons and
why i put off buying that boxed set that the salesman said would make my life complete with bird
blowing in the background while i figure out the mystery of computer ma jong and where have
you gone and where will we go because you are the first person i have ever known who truly
owes me something and in a little while i will expect you to pay the debt and i will be the tallyman
who tallies your bananas and then all of a sudden in the silence i see the red red wine is close
much too close to me and now i know...
Untitled
The moaning moment that you take your first baby steps
into a gloaming descent into a twilight world
that eats innocents like you and excretes
another innocent to become a vicious Golem
on an unsuspecting intellect that seeks out some truth
it has not really prepared itself to receive
an avalanche of uncensored sentiment from a place beyond
the place where the censors exist
is there a dam to hold back this adulterated wash
of nightmare laundry list emotionalism
that beats upon the rocky shore of your human feeling?
1996
Night Music
In a stereo wasteland
The creatures of the night howl
Crying the despair of the hungry
Their hunger is despair
A young man walks with painted face
The young man laughs, then he dies
The creatures of the night howl
The darkness is complete
The moon rises through the mist
A darkness where the rain falls
The rain must stop sometime
Sun shining on the darkness
Embrace the faith, embrace your fate
The sky burns in his eyes
Eyes that have seen the sun
The creatures of the night howl
Laughing at the face of danger
Life is danger if life is complete
The young man knows the trivial things
The young man knows nothing is trivial
The creatures of the night howl
Laser disc and laser love
Love and hate hold hands in the street
Caricatures of life on the screen
Know when our existence is real
Hide your fears, drink your tears
Snow falls through the dark
He never sees it as it falls
Acid rain washes his hair
The creatures of the night howl
They howl despair, they howl hunger
Nothing is real, nothing is sane
Search for truth in a Cracker Jack box
You hear nothing, you see nothing
And still the young man walks
In the dark a silver path
A path to shine in the darkest light
The streets whirl in a carousel of fury
The young man clings to his faith, to his fate
Once again the howls of despair
We seek out some confirmation
He and I, the creatures of the night
We seek the the light and hope for the truth
We wait for someone to say we are real
12/95
Chocolate: a desire
mama says you're bad for me
you only want one thing
daddy says you better not show up around here
missed classes and broken promises
my love, my chocolate bar
hide under my bed
come out when its dark
I unwrap you with loving stealth
wild dreams and nighttime fear
my love, my chocolate bar
Movied Martyerdom
Splattered Grace all over a shiny mirror
with a reflection of the last lines of your life
laid out in singular thin rows
You looked for a Higher Power on paper
in the scattered writings of a few wise men
that never spoke the language you understood
You lived your movie like it was a life
with a rock and roll soundtrack on reel to reel
that couldn’t quite convince it was real
Anyone can, with just a few dollars or some plastic,
buy a copy of the life you never owned
in laser disc or 8mm or VHS
Shattered Grace hanging from a cross
for a world that never loved you,
how could it understand your wasted sacrifice? 8/96
(c)snowkrash
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