dear brother,
make yourself at home
in my heart.
it's all yours anyway.
reach for something
you're not even sure exists.
know it's there.
then let it pass through your fingers
like sand.
-michael tawd
Monday, September 14, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
I Don’t Eat Death
I do not need to eat death, death is already inside me.
A broken tide of blood washes over the stony surface of my heart.
Salt and iron dance with a sort of physical poetry,
If not awkwardly.
It is here that I find myself on the well-worn path
Of forgetfulness,
Casting about for a foothold.
Taking courage in the knowledge that in every argument I’ve ever had,
I’ve been in the wrong.
I must cast off in this little boat named
“Ahimsa”
and sail it in every direction.
-michael tawd bell
I do not need to eat death, death is already inside me.
A broken tide of blood washes over the stony surface of my heart.
Salt and iron dance with a sort of physical poetry,
If not awkwardly.
It is here that I find myself on the well-worn path
Of forgetfulness,
Casting about for a foothold.
Taking courage in the knowledge that in every argument I’ve ever had,
I’ve been in the wrong.
I must cast off in this little boat named
“Ahimsa”
and sail it in every direction.
-michael tawd bell
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
excerpt from an old journal entry
"Father have mercy. i want to write, play, scream, recite Yahweh's words in poetic verse, pray my ass off and speak in tounges. and above all i want to repent and have it stick. . . "
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Existential Genocide
Existential Genocide
It’s a colossal task,
To lift this modern life
Up and over the mundane;
A bucket full of every human urge,
Both benign and malignant,
Harmful and helpful.
Weighing like concrete shoes
Or the combined mass of
Generations of historic tragedy.
Our heritage; this sledgehammer blow,
This falling piano.
Our legacy; our malevolent stalker.
He overtakes us with the violence
Of centuries of subconscious hatred.
-michael tawd bell
It’s a colossal task,
To lift this modern life
Up and over the mundane;
A bucket full of every human urge,
Both benign and malignant,
Harmful and helpful.
Weighing like concrete shoes
Or the combined mass of
Generations of historic tragedy.
Our heritage; this sledgehammer blow,
This falling piano.
Our legacy; our malevolent stalker.
He overtakes us with the violence
Of centuries of subconscious hatred.
-michael tawd bell
the dead flag blues
The car's on fire and there's no driver at the wheel
And the sewers are all muddied with a thousand lonely suicides
And a dark wind blows
The government is corrupt
And we're on so many drugs
With the radio on and the curtains drawn
We're trapped in the belly of this horrible machine
And the machine is bleeding to death
The sun has fallen down
And the billboards are all leering
And the flags are all dead at the top of their poles
It went like this
The buildings tumbled in on themselves
Mothers clutching babies picked through the rubble and pulled out their hair
The skyline was beautiful on fire
All twisted metal stretching upwards
Everything washed in a thin orange haze
I said, "Kiss me, you're beautiful..
These are truly the last days"
You grabbed my hand and we fell into it
Like a daydream or a fever
We woke up one morning and fell a little further down
For sure it's the valley of death
I open up my wallet
And it's full of blood
from "the dead flag blues" by godspeed you! black emperor
no matter how satiated we are, or who's in the white house, or how much we insulate are selves as individuals and nation states; deep down we know there is something very wrong. that maybe one day we'll wake from the nightmare of the modern human condition and be emancipated from competition, greed, hate and fear. emancipated from our borders and our security systems. and we might. we just might wake up, on the day we realize that whether it's what we eat or wear or work, how we play and love and hate. . . it's all political. nothing is just our private decision or our little secret. you are me and we're falling into it together. hold my hand tight. . .
And the sewers are all muddied with a thousand lonely suicides
And a dark wind blows
The government is corrupt
And we're on so many drugs
With the radio on and the curtains drawn
We're trapped in the belly of this horrible machine
And the machine is bleeding to death
The sun has fallen down
And the billboards are all leering
And the flags are all dead at the top of their poles
It went like this
The buildings tumbled in on themselves
Mothers clutching babies picked through the rubble and pulled out their hair
The skyline was beautiful on fire
All twisted metal stretching upwards
Everything washed in a thin orange haze
I said, "Kiss me, you're beautiful..
These are truly the last days"
You grabbed my hand and we fell into it
Like a daydream or a fever
We woke up one morning and fell a little further down
For sure it's the valley of death
I open up my wallet
And it's full of blood
from "the dead flag blues" by godspeed you! black emperor
no matter how satiated we are, or who's in the white house, or how much we insulate are selves as individuals and nation states; deep down we know there is something very wrong. that maybe one day we'll wake from the nightmare of the modern human condition and be emancipated from competition, greed, hate and fear. emancipated from our borders and our security systems. and we might. we just might wake up, on the day we realize that whether it's what we eat or wear or work, how we play and love and hate. . . it's all political. nothing is just our private decision or our little secret. you are me and we're falling into it together. hold my hand tight. . .
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)