After the Lobotomy
I’ve known auto-proclaimed ministers,
merchants of salvation
whose hearts are wildernesses
in a modern day wild
See them revel in a
hermetic ornanistic bacchanalia
after a daily battle of wits
to which they impose taxes—
for knowledge is power
& metaphor is power too
the power to tell— and not to tell—
From their vineyards
they’ve declared war on my vinyl
they’ve had no vision of it in their nu world
no vision of my verses
no vision at all
My vision is that of a crumbled world,
Tim Burtonesque, without social contract
so spare me your sophisms
do not say things you do not fathom
for I’d been warned of your arrival
before you were born
After the lobotomy,
i am everything save a legume
i guess you’ll have to try something else.
Molotov Cocktail
II
for Charlie Hebdo
As they’d done, upon an unholy valentine,
They’ve spilled first gore
In the name of the Prophet
Like when the Verses were on siege,
And the cartoonist on hot coals—
Mark that futurology is no forgiver
Of blood lust djinns…