15 September 2012

What do you want from me? I'm the fucking God Of Spring

I am
 striding through ages, feet stalk and root into the fetid loam, wading upon death, fungal toes mingle worm and slug; legs column and sweat and bend at the knees to trample, buttocks shits out richness, ass quivers with effluent, cock runs wet with lust as a sword with blood, each testicle an army the hips thrust on every woman and man, navel plumbs the mysteries of Saturnine belly, rumbling and roaring in spiraling viscera spilling out as labyrinth, augured by melancholic spleen and sanguine heart, lungs bellowing with laughter at the trifles; ribs hold the whole of creation crack from within like thunder from two shoulders - orbiting planets from which two arms of lightning reach hands each in greedy possession of the earth and the sky. And my head is the head happily split like a melon by the ritual clubs of the sons of men

I am
A trifle
We are everyone
Gods beyond time
Fingers in the current of the present