I will blaspheme to instruct
if those still listening can hear:
the pretense of this world is fucked
beyond repair; that much is clear.
I will replay classic moments
in a whirl of light and sound;
relive near death’s self-wrought torment
in my history’s chains, bound.
I will speak in words, in whispers
of potential still untapped
while you burn away to blisters
where our skins’ touch overlaps.
I will surrender to my vision
and in sonic sculpture rend
epiphanies to indecision
blank postcards I’ve yet to send
I will build a church to reason
in the metaphor of lies
so that thinking is not treason
and its lack, no alibi
I will lose myself in speaking
out against the endless wind
while the freaks go right on freaking
mindless of the world they’re in
I will curse the world’s foundation
built upon the backs of slaves
and in worship of sensation
find my own soul, free and brave.
17 JUN 2004
