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Poetry

by mymicz Wednesday, Feb. 18, 2004 at 1:44 AM

Just a little lyric for arts sake...

Middle East

Can you blame me,

paid in interest,

for your budget.

Paid for the lame, for the crippled, for the drunk, and the abusive. Not just in taxes but in time and terror too.

Can you blame me, I was born DURING A WAR,

in a place you'll never understand, because you live here, in comfort.

In a place where blades slice throats of innocent children,

And me I see dead people I can see THEM.

Survivors,

my people are survivors, aren't yours?

So can you blame me, when you say I shouldn't survive?

Should I say the same about you?

I am no fool.

Are you?

Don't we all have a right to live?

Isn't the world plenty big that I could find some corner?

Or would they kill me there too?

Armed to the teeth and full of truth but still vulnerable.

All impermanent yet written forever in bouncing from second to second,

Each hit of the keys just commands me to vent CAN YOU BLAME ME?

Still I'm sorry that I did let you make me hate but not really.

For you sparked me to grow past that hatred and use other energy.

And a Paul, Peter and Maryology will never fix this past three years bloodshed.

For war it bounced off you and onto me and on to every living head.

G-d forgive me.

I don't blame you anymore.

So stop blaming me.

And naming me a Lion of Zion.

For I was born in Rishon or First of Zion.

And even if my sign is a Lion I am still other things.

Like a human.

For millions of years man did not rule the land and perhaps thats the way that it should be.

No Almighty.

Maybe woman should finally try her sweet hand.

But I'll not trade my tyrant for yours nor will I even die because you say that I stole your land, that's just stupid.

Not even the Native American who deserves all of this here is that viscious to blow up poor people on busses.

Instead they make pow wows and grand gambling halls like the mafia but we all enjoy it.

Because the best vengence is living well.

Some day the Raimbow tribe will tell of funny arguments and wars that came before,

when we don't hate and blame each other anymore.

About the Conflict, over which man was allowed just to live.

fresca

by fresca Wednesday, Feb. 18, 2004 at 1:47 AM

Well ah jumpt! and fled this fucken heap on doctored wings

Mah flailin pinions, with splints and rags and crutches!

(Damn things nearly hardly flap)

Canker upon canker upon one million tiny punctures

That look like...

Long thin red ribbons draped across the arms of a lil mortal girl

(Like a ground -plan of Hell)

Curse these smartin strings! These fucken ruptures!

Enough! Enough is enough!

(If this is Heaven ah'm bailin out)

If this is Heaven ah'm bailin out

Ah caint tolerate this ol tin-tub

So fulla trash and rats! Felt one crawl across mah soul

For a seckon there , as thought as wassa back down in the ghetto!

(Rats in Paradise! Rats in Paradise!)

Ah'm bailin out! There's a mutiny in Heaven!



Ah wassa born...

And Lord shakin, even then was dumpt into some icy font,

like some great stinky unclean!

From slum-chuch to slum-church, ah spilt mah heart

To some fat cunt behind a screen...



Evil poppin eye presst up to the opening

He'd slide shut the lil perforated hatch...at night mah body

blusht

To the whistle of the birch

With a lil practice ah soon learnt to use in on mahself

Punishment?! Reward!! Punishment?! Reward!!

Well, ah tied on...percht on mah bed ah was...

sticken a needle in mah arm...



Ah tied off! Fucken wings burst out mah back

(Like ah was cuttin teeth!!)

Ah took off!!!

(Rats in Paradise! Rats in Paradise!)

There's a mutiny in Heaven!



Oh Lord, ah git down on mah knees

(Ah git down on mah knees and start to pray)



Wrapped in mah mongrel wings, ah nearly freeze

In the howlin wind and drivin rain

(All the trash blowin round 'n' round)

>From slum-heaven into town

Ah take mah tiny pain and rollin back mah sleeve

(Roll anna roll anna roll anna roll)

Ah yank the drip outa mah vein! UTOPIATE! Ah'm bailin out!

UTOPIATE!

If this is Heaven ah'm bailin out!

Mah threadbare soul teems with vermin and louse

Thoughts come like a plague to the head...in God's house!

Mutiny in Heaven!

(Ars infectio forco Dio)

To the plank!

(Rats in Paradise! Rats in Paradise!)

Ah'm bailin out!

(Hail Hypuss Dermio Vita Rex!)

Hole inna ghetto! Hole inna ghetto!

(Scabio Murem per Sanctum...Dio, Dio, Dio)


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