Noon dispel the grueling fear,
Moon despair an hour this night,
Gone are the trees I chopped away,
Bound are the hands taken from me,
Long are the feet held to hang,
And all the world is upside down,
Yes, upside down, yes, yes, down,
So give me blood for I am palish,
Now impale on the cross I live,
How much I hate the rays of sun
Before the cross can send me here.
So this bird is thinking away,
No; my religion is a science.
For the ears hung by cotton thread,
No sound can pass without my dread,
I shall howl simply because I’m mad,
I need not rationalis; I am mad.
Here we go: One, two, three, four,
(etc).. Now I am the God of numbers,
Six, seven, eight, nine, ten, twelve,
Eleven can wait, my death is another.
Zero, one, two, the birds in wait,
The horse that neighs nor gallops,
Three, five, eight, one-three, right;
Count, count, count, cunt, cunt cunt;
Honed, the arms of brothers’ slow bond,
Neck is tired, tired, tired. Strain.
One, two, three, four, five, six, eight,
Seven, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, seven.
Five, now; this is the poem of ages,
One you can understand what I mean,
One that posterity to decipher again.

Category:
K-Poetry, Poetry, Works
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