Reek Of Life

I have nothing but pleasure in my hands
with no regard for where you stand
just hold me and feel the mortar in my bones
that rattle through these broken streets
there is no time in this life for spontaneity
poor infant falls to his sudden death
in the crepts of age grant us few successes
and luxury machines that bathe us, rips us from our limbs

. . . centrally driven by all that is within
. . . gravity diminishes at it approaches its purpose
. . . so dreams are born and die every instant
. . . that small spurts, smoke stacks, is nothingness

Mother Country is out of reach, my house is lonely and vacant
and if you cry once and find your eyes have died, and beheld me no more
as I once appeared to you. If your ears have deafened to my quivering voice
and you can no longer pauce your heart. Then my sermons mean nothing.
Yet only the plea of one who has suffered thee, covered in blood.

. . . this is the whole of itself
. . . and all in every part of itself
. . . enigmatically encompassing
. . . ever instilled, ever changing

Forget what was prophisized
consider I don't want to die
until I know why blood was colored so beautifully!

. . . Yea, production is the project divine
. . . manifest of man's own mind
. . . shown through each edifice
. . . our construct for excellence

Perhaps through the days of my life I have truly gone mad!
The sunrise, dependable as my morning erection stained with sperm,
I reek of Life!

. . . the weight of the world
. . . the whole of itself
. . . colliding, dividing

Pleading we never outgrow our manifestations
for that mythical monster we swear we saw.

. . . O we saw it!

Spoken word: Jack Brewer
Chorus: Louise Bialik