To The Pretending Angels.
All lifted up with shall be brought low;
The hand that fits in should justly pick the nose-
But the eye lacks patience to see the nose;
Life is really...my nightmare; a piece of shit!
They're like dirty mire 'neath clean waters;
Who'll wash them? Not even Mississippi.
How many lies can ever full a basket?
What cooked the meal, the hot pot or hot fire?
The gun has cried; the powder owns the sky,
Let the dancing leaves wail to its baritone,
Let the eye drop tears till it become an ocean-
Let the gunner live to pass on bit by bit.
Their hearts are hearts of golden wild chains;
It presents present to those present today.
They're pretending angels, devil are they!...
Let my leaf stop waving to shadow all nights.
But lest a seed fall to the ground and die;
It lives alone; for it brings more fruits if it die.
So as tho' they breathe and lie, let them pass away
to six depth, so that their lies will grow unmatured trees.
"words from the innocent mind"