wakeup again

isnt telepathy enough

must i repeat the universal story

for you to understand



cant you feel

the source

how it has dried



must you ask what happened

if i had the answers

i would have no questions



cant you walk to the rivers head alone

must i follow

carrying your bags

like the camel of your command



dont your toes tell you of this desert



cant you learn from the sun on your back



can you see there are no dancers

no singers

even the birds have departed



and their song has cracked

through the puberty of mourning



there was no time for graves

bodies buried where bodies rotted

no caskets laid where graves were made



half way tree

an overgrown town of ghosts

where nothing has moved

since lazarus walked



where is the waking

other than the dead

they are taking the tastee patty shop

selling the mince of rotting flesh



and the matalons are buying

and the stewarts stopped flying

and the azans are rocking the cradle of knowing

in an underground cellar



portraits hanging in the sky

erasers walk by our history

and plant tv's

that say nothing

and overgrow everything

that doesnt move.



and i ride my bicycle

past your tricycle

and i remember your cricket

you balance bones to make wickets



the icicle drips

from the clocks hand

there is no cave

no explanation for stalags or -acs



stagnation swings

like a big batty woman

cursing the howl of a demon tongue

and the undead dances

to this new music

and faithfully

calls it pop.