I buried my heart in the backyard
And I must say, I did not regret it
My heart was black and soiled
And underneath the fertile soil,
I felt it beating and throbbing
Please, don’t think I’m heartless now
After this, I am only endowed
With great powers of perception
That enable me to disavow
The curse of my ancestry
Before the altar, we pray
To gods of the forest-night
They hear us in our anguish
Remove us from televised carnage
And mass murder of dreams
In America, nothing is as it seems
We trek to the forest at nightfall
By light of neon and longing
It smells of fire-smoke and dust
On the first day, the eternal snow of stars
We felt as though we were behind bars,
But it was only the prison of my mind –
How it likes infinite repetition of
Self-irritation, leading me to hills
Of Mars to tear my body apart
We start here, again,
An interstellar journey commenced,
To escape beatings of saints
Religious zealots who rule
Island nations of woe
Why the riddle?
When we get to the end,
Will the Divine face be revealed?
Or will there be another riddle
Inside of the inside joke
That’s life on this planet?
Let’s peer inside, let’s abide
To directives of love;
Maybe then, a light will shine
From above, and stop us
From digging the crater
That consumes great
Urban centers.
The Divine face is ugly,
We must admit,
To be free from illusion
When the only thing we
Hold onto is our delusions.
Can I surrender?
Or will I keep fighting egos?
Drink from the poison chalice?
Where is utter peace?
Forget the journey to enlightenment –
Surrender to base desires;
Flesh is more potent than spirit,
Holy Spirits eat my flesh
In inordinate, passionate fires –
The Mind of Christ bursts
With vicious images
Some of you may recognize this illustration – it’s one from William Blake called “Christ in the Sepulcher, Guarded by Angels.” I’m a big fan of Blake’s poetry and famously weird illustrations, so I wanted to distort one a bit with some graphic effects from Canva. I like how this turned out and I particularly like the orange hues.
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