Do you know the warm progress under the stars?
Do you know we exist?
Have you forgotten the keys to the Kingdom
Have you been borne yet and are you alive?
Let´s reinvent the gods, all the myths of the ages
Celebrate symbols from deep elder forests
[Have you forgoten the lessons of the ancient war]
We need great golden copulations
The fathers are cackling in trees of the forest
Our mother is dead in the sea
Do you know we are being led to slaughters by placid admirals
And that fat slow generals are getting obscene on young blood
Do you know we are ruled by TV
The moon is a dry blood beast
Guerilla bands are rolling numbers in the next block of green vine
amassing for warfare on innocent herdmen who are just dying
O great creator of being
grant us one more hour to perform our art and perfect our lives
The moths and atheists are doubly divine and dying
We live, we die
and death not ends it
Journey we move into the Nightmare
Cling to life
Our passion´d flower
Cling to cunts and cocks
of despair
We got our final vision by clap
Columbus´ groin got filled with green death
(I touched her thigh and death smiled)
We have assembled inside this ancient and insane theatre
To propagate our lust for life
and flee the swarming wisdom
of the streets
The barns are stormed
The windows kept
And only one of all the rest
To dance and save us
With the divine mockery of words
Music inflames temperament
(When the true King´s murderers are allowed to roam free a thousand
Magicians arise in the land)
When are the feasts
we were promissed
Where is the wine
The New Wine
(dying on the vine)
resident mockery
give us an hour for magic
We of the purple glove
We of the starling flight and velvet hour
We of arabic pleasure´s breed
We of sundome and the night
Give us a creed
To believe
A night of Lust
Give us trust in
The Night
Give of color
Hundred hues
a rich mandala
For me and you
And for your silky
pillowed house

A head, wisdom
And a bed
Troubled decree
Resident mockery
has claimed thee
We used to believe
In the good old days
We still receive
In little ways
The Things of Kindness
And unsporting brow
Forget and allow
Did you know freedom exists in a school book
Did you know madmen are roaming our prison
within a jail, within a gaol
within a white free protestant
maelstrom
We´re perched headlong on the edge of boredom
We´re reaching for death on the end of a candle
We´re trying for something that´s already found us

We can invent Kingdoms of our own
grand purple thrones, those chairs of lust
and love we must, in beds of rust
Steel doors lock in prisoner´s screams
and muzak, AM, rocks their dreams
No black men´s pride to hoist the beams
while mocking angels sift what seems
To be a collage of magazine dust
Scratched on foreheads of walls of trust
This is just jail for those who must
get up in the morning and fight for such
unusable standards
while weeping maidens
show-off penury and pout
ravings for a mad
staff

Wow, I´m sick of doubt
Live in the light of certain
South
Cruel bindings
The servants have the power
dog-men and their mean women
pulling poor blankets over
our sailors
(And where were you in our lean hour)
Milking your moustache or grinding a flower?
I´m sick of dour faces
Staring at me from the TV
Tower, I want roses in
my garden bower; dig?
Royal babies, rubies
must now replace aborted
Strangers in the mud
These mutants, blood-meal
for the plant that´s plowed

They are waiting to take us into the severed garden
Do you know how pale and wanton thrillful
comes death on a strange hour
unannouced, unplanned for
like a scaring over-friendly guest you´ve brought to bed
Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings
where we had shoulders smooth as raven´s claws

No more money, no more fancy dress
This other Kingdom seems by far the best
until its other jaw reveals incest
and loose obedience to a vegetable law
I will not go
Prefer a Feast of Friends
To the Giant Family