mind only

creating a nation
from strips of silence where once violence stood

its prison bars and walls made of freedom itself.

i've brought them with me
my people
they sit amongst you
trained to smell evil intent and lust.

toward me they cluster when i return to my seat
they hover about,
you feel them and call them my energy
dark or light, warm or cold...
still a chill...

still an oldness that comes from centuries
trapped in a body from the 80's

around my people's fireside you sit...
mind your alcohol and cigarettes near General Grandmother Eterna...

while poetry distracts her from dispatching fleets to bloodlet the audience
come for leeches.
saddling open wounds
to lift your toxins...
no sugar is in this tea.

i grow weary of the low cut cleavage across your tired breastline.
under-seat moist from animal heat
one deceit served on the rocks with a shot or two of spirits...

my people hear you thinking
on my constant report
i flit between this pupils screen and my other realm
my audience and my subjects kneeling, reporting the evil of your ways, some sobbing,
others refusing to bear the weight of your evil, commit suicide from the nearest balcony or stowaway in ships to make a weighted leap


i can never convince my people that being a messenger of evil
doesnt make you evil
and so they hate themselves.

Many times they all attempt to hide behind me,
sitting on a makeshift seat or a step at the back of the venue,
them cramming single file between me and the wall,
pressed together like my ancestors inside me...

they have lived all my nine lives and reported
the way ahead
its satisfactory glory sun sets.


my people ensure I am free.
If you lock me in the penitentiary,
i will escape through my mind.
If you release me,
I will reside in the darkest corner of your soul...

absorbing echoes...
breathing
awaiting death
teasing life into being.


(hear audio by copying and pasting this link:
http://www.twitvid.com/6VP32