Raven in Green again..

nothings changed the senates still corrupt & the emporer remains insane, and every day, is a new strain of slaughter, supply lines are less protected, evil on all sides, eye can smell the death on your flesh--creeping in, trapped within the twisting fingers of fear, and all eye see is ewe, that face, those eyes, burning like leprosy, eye can see u there poisoning the air, prostituing Nationalism, and eye want to attack, to rip out your heart and lay you flat on your back, and vomit a world of agony and truth into your throbbing illness of memory...and hate guides our way, eye long for the icy slap of a belt across my back, for the acceptance of death and blind cave war, the giving sleep of depression, the sweet elucidation of savage meaningless agression, chiseled in the meaty forearms of Mother Jupiter and his slave disciples, in the harem tents--outside, just beyond the edges--eye ride, a cycoptic mare in the fires of imagination. feeding my disease, a river of plagues, eye need something to remind me I'm still sinning that pain is important, that wurdz matter, that healing is possible, that eye am not alone ...in this --guard the houses--triple the watch,--Maidens, dig up your sorcery --sirens, sharpen your rocks..ewe will eat my pain again. whatever you need unite messiah ME

--Wurdz by Otep Shamaya

Poem about a freak
August 16, 2001 3:58 p.m.

Related Reading

Used with permission, Copyright © 1999 Stephen, half-devoured. All Rights Reserved.

You laugh and you stare
at his pointed hair
Your shallow mind seems unaware
that there is something there
something beautiful and kind.
And if you look closer,
you could free your mind.
For when you look close you just might find
the purpose for the shell in which he hides
The reason why
he averts his eye.
His hidden secret is that he's shy,
because honestly how often do you look him in the eye?
His shell keeps him safe
when you are at bay,
His shell keeps him safe
when your far far away.
His shell keeps him safe
from the things which you say:
The hushed whispers of your cutting disapproval.

Poetica Collab

Past

Present

Coffee

Zeldman

Otep

Currently Reading