Contemporary Life

Close my eyes on a final yesterday.
Today casts me encantation of sacrum for holy's unholy sacrificial liturgy.

Bonds on my arms to lovely night shadows.

Here I lay me down
under the light post of belief my heart impaled.

Yesterday is not over.
You can't climb to the grave to sleep on the breast of yesterday
when the angels fell into hearth's broken frailty
and brought the bright ball to the wooden pod.

Shadows, shadows, shadows.
Today awakens from its incubation cave
to eat the past and c-section the future,
that long away, away tomorrow.

Lullaby and this final peace
with the ghosts of early yesterday's died.

A new myself is beyond the mountain
awaiting I, this sacred end.

It's all on the player.
Recorded lost religion.
Another stream of moving pictures.
Another hymn.

Why does today play an edgeful thump
that seals my soul in burial
by pelvis's rim
for a souless boy who will reign today
surrounded by the crows that sing
the death, the death, the death, the death?

Now I lay me down to sleep
with a spirit deep inside
and a shade of blue of asphyxiation
on the pages of my red embedded  Bible.

Today, he might be and I be no more.
What then?
If he has taken soma but still bears my only name?
So my tomb has written no letters.

Or maybe the shadows as I close my eyes on yesterday
shade my epitaph
because hell's to pay when you love shadows
and dance your sacrum with fallen angels.

But there was a girl.
Well, perhaps there is always a girl, between moon and sun,
light as a feather, stiff as a board.
If she could break the Devil's hold
and rescue the day and release my soul.
Break the glass on the juking case
and make this all a "Blue Moon" night.
And a "Good Morning Starshine" morning light.

Bound by shadow, seduced by demons.
Sacrificed to Anatman
and a new wave-old wave drunken beast.