Litkicks Message Board Archive
You've heard the commotion from your perch on Ursa Minor
The bleeding of mother earth the frontier of human humility
You've seen homo erectus build his arsenal to chaotic climax
"Bombs bursting in air"
but not for the America you made love to.
What gives you assurance?
What makes this brain-cramped-machanically-severed-sphere not destined for complete demolition?
How do you know what Bombs are made of: lungs and laughter, ignorant intelligence.
Greg you had your time and now I know it's mine but I still can't decide what is wrong and what was right or shall ever be.
Can you help me?
Can you come down from your criticless universe to tell the tell tale signs of stupidity. I see it all around me, within myself.
Could you send telepathic radio-waves through myriad cosmos traveling, bouncing through myriad time, soapy light-year time that washes clean the brain like cats their assholes?
I bet you're still laughing.
I bet you watch the unseen with keen vision and laugh at drunken earth with learned satisfaction.
Oh earth! baby of time. Mortal among Gods. Stream to prehistoric ocean.
Oh earth! you folly fool, you maker of greed, of hate, of sin, of guilt.
Oh earth! you mother of love that makes it so hard to turn my back.
Was Frost right?
Should I walk untraveled paths when the whole world walks the same?
"What so proudly we hail?"
I'm tired battered beaten down
save me a spot on your star.