rejoice brothers and sisters

you will not be able to sleep through this

the rock and the chain and the lightning

and the boot on your neck forever and ever will not let you sleep

through this

through this

you will not be able to step out on the commercial for a diet pepsi
cause diet coke dissolves your teeth brothers and sisters

you will not be able to talk about how the system is breaking down
and the incompetency butts head with criminality and you wonder when
someone is going to start

doing all the things they told you they would

even your parents did not do all the things they told you they would

told you they could

cannot even save themselves, and they said they could save you?

there is no percentage in this for the willfully stupid

you will not be able to turn your eyes to the ground and kiss the
feet of your oppressor

no matter how much you might like to

no matter how funny you think it might be

to crush beer cans against your head

and eat the shit of people who cannot even face their own dogs


you will not be able to pretend that revenge of the sith is return of
the jedi, and that smoking a joint is communing with the force

you will not look around and suddenly find that it has been done
for you

no amount of crying and raging, no emoting of any kind will cut any
ice in the hood we are going towards

your excuses will always be excuses, no matter how much you’d like
them to be reasons


do you see it?

do you see it?

in the wilderness, in the gutter, under the cushions of your couch
while kenny dies for your sins week after week?

while everything worth living for is ground up to fertilise a poison
garden for rapists and liars and butchers

and it’s only funny till it stops being funny, and it only stops
being funny long enough to set up another punchline

oh yes

it is always this time, always too late, always too early

and even you, will one day unfurl that banner

and those hooks in your flesh,

function youserve, that substitute that isn’t really a substitute

those barbs in your flesh will not let you sleep through this

cause it’s running a little bit hot tonight

and the irons and the whips and clamps that hold everything you
think you need

it’s impossible to choke yourself to death with your own two hands

but it’s very possible to learn how to never quit trying

while the sorcerors who beat at the gates to a place they can never
go, smeared in the blood and shit of little ones and stacks of money
balanced on the ends of their erections

they preach the false return

what the fuck did I just tell you about the return?

and as long as you’re laughing you think that makes it okay?

as long as you’re in on the joke it doesn’t mean it’s not still on
you? always been on you?

will be on you until the sky cracks open and god folds the world up
to try again

the host will ride you down alike alike

the sword of the rider will cut you down alike

because a little man, in a little blue suit

has been painting you, a drop at a time,

and everytime you say there’s nothing you can do about this stain
until you almost believe it

and almost believing it is almost good enough



because you made this hell

you made it impossible to sleep through

you made it unbearable to forget

unthinkable to condone

unimaginable to contribute

any more

any more

because without this it is all for nothing

without these little men and their little games you would have

without your delicious apathy and complacency there would be nothing

without the stinking sorcerors and their lies you would have nothing
except your smug ascent into the light

without the millions, yes millions of dead babies crying forever and
ever for you to help them you might have gone back to whatever it is
you think you were doing

but we both know you weren’t really doing anything


without the helpful staff of your private dachau, you would have

no ashes to paint your face

no skins to dress your naked shame

no bones to haft your dagger and swords

and no blood to paint your banner




for only when all else has failed

will we clear the final path

the path of the true return

7 thoughts on “a sacrifice

  1. I’m talking about those pesky black brothers, beating at the door they cannot enter, who by their own counter-intitiation initiative will eventually force the great unwashed to genuine initiation, as part of the Great White Brotherhood sneaky beaky battle plan.

    If it’s true ‘the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry’, then I suppose you could say the Black Brothers are mice. And er, men too.

  2. Poetry as a phenomenal expression of, and a means to understanding of the nouminal world…

    Surely you don’t have to get stoned to commune with the “force”… although, for some, it would take the edge off a well-ingrained linear sequential mindset. Yet, in the long run, practicing poetry has more benefits for a person who studies the hidden sides of life.

    Your poem is a wee bit reminiscent of book vii – Plato’s Republic

  3. This poem is bloody brilliant. It hurt me to read, wounding me with truth. This is all of us until one of us wakes up–and it’s always the same one that’s gotta do it: I.

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