I Predict Rich Compost

 


When the world is stumbling on some prosperity 
be the squalor 
when it is day for the horde, the sage perceives it as night 
whose brain are they always knotting when they plait their hair 
who as the sexual effuses are they occluding
singing we have to be slowed down
The women, conscience vultures, working as a group 
read and surmount the blood of starch 
darn your serrated psyche, heal onto your selfish
there was never any love, -three card monty 
commensalism and dry jokes, clean off those who 
truamatize a remembrance , frustrate out an affectation 
masturbate, wrest your mind free from every cunnilingus
it's the mud of blood, bubble wrapped froth 
what you have called love is just a prod
sex couldn't be without a piston 
conduce and suction tube, truly animal
depravity is the weal of the weaker
in the wrestle of the mind's narrative, ever changing
with the whispers of the devil mapping out pixels
do the good you can, act towards the freeing
for in the plunge lies the soil
in the grasp, risk the snip, cut, stomp 
life's that cross bearing catwalk of the beggared 
dump your love and sacrifice; alms to the ever empty vulva 
listen to music, read book and smile occasionally
on your way, the console was never yours in the first place 

I predict thick rich compost by 2050
cancer related deaths off djinn money
we who are resolved will till it then
fertilization for the trees and precipices 
empty house, abandoned cars, vacant lot - off
those of who are in the rush
fattening themselves up today - rotten tomatoes
for the compost.


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