Low Down



Emptying, mixed media on window pane, copyright 1994 GPD


The pile has grown up underneath

making the road impossibly steep

Grunt and Groan and Moan and Whine

a crying song is lost in time


Let worries guide us as we fly

wringing out our drink-fuzzed minds

blooming curdled fractured smiles

all False Statements have been filed


I feel the minutes rend and pull

on my egg-yolk soak-ed Stole

Mean Spirited Gods’re what we seek

as we shout, bray, howl und squeak


A rotten dog begets some more

scarfing Grease and Buddy Spore

Coats splattered by the World

rolls of Flesh e’er unfurled


Gods turn their backs so easily

and the crowd’ll hang us from their tree

hold our head upon a stick

force our bodies to a pit


Great Guns fire in the dark

A Vile breeze cuts through sharp

we forged our paths with Knives and Bullets

But our Hammered hearts have never felt it.

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