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Subcultcloture: Atheme

Retreat deeper
     there are storms
      in the offing

This whole
   Daydream Nation
a fucking dope fiend alley

Even I
  drink coffee
  like a madman
hardwired to all capacity.



If all this shit goes down
     like balls on head out
     gang bang gun busters

We be jetting
     going south
     for the winter
Know what I'm saying?

It's not the winter
     we be heading into
     if the world were to
     crack in two

We will be safer in the dark
   shadows than in the dying
         of the neon.



Long patches of silence


      she gots the numblight
  stare, blink blindly back
      into the torn temptations

Highway
Headlong
Hard drive
      to the end of it all



RECESS!

 sullen
  sent agonized
 & tormented

out amongst the others
 lost in the hard cover
fingertip
keeping my place

      *
slamming modern wicca
all over the place
      *

"point & laugh children
       & laugh @ the nazi
       & laugh @ the skin
       & laugh,
   they love that"



stench
   of that slow death
   of those near & dear
   we never expected to lose

like fear jelly
   or paranoia pudding

it leaves gnawing
   @ our core



headswimming
in the rage
@ the sickness
I must maintain
to survive
one more night
& I wonder
if its worth it
to put up this fight



Sorrowood

trees scream out silence
seek some closure for solace
while dreaming stones cry

we mortals destroy
while our nature lies dying
chained to suicide



Now Given Time

we paused then
I hadn't eaten
     for days
Now-it's bitter &
  coffee, a smoke
  on the porch
& I expect her call
  to come, any
  time...now
3 crows perched
  in the willow
  out front
  but they declined
  to tell me their
        names
  being the type
  to keep cigarettes
  & other things
  to themselves
  nestled away
  in a nest somewhere.....................
I should know, my own
  room is a nest,
  or even more likely,
A den of sorts,
  the walls in some places
  are merely paper
  & only a little bit
  @ that.
The people I live w/
  are related by
  choice, not any
  tedious genetic heritage
  here for anybody
  to freak out about
It's as if this whole big bad
  world we live in is
  somehow wrong,
  not what we expected
  to find once we
  got here...
& that leads to the curious
  logic that we must
  have come from some
  where, & some thing
  here needs to be
  fixed...
But what shall we fix?
  where shall we
  begin?  there are
  so many things so
  blatantly wrong that
  the sheer magnitude
  is overwhelming.
There are four pillars upon
  which social structure
  rests, rotted from
  w/in, & doomed to
  fall, creating four piles
  of rubble from which
  our new tyrants will
  be birthed...
These four pillars are politics,
  business, science, & religion,
  the corner stones of our
  reality.  Even as science
  trembles in horror @
  the turning of the digital
  calendar, so also does
  business fear the charge
  of the bears, & being the
  wolf I've befriended
  my share of bears &
  I can tell you when they
  get their dander up ya'll
  best be steppin pretty friggin
  quick up the nearest tree
  in the vicinity...
& religion has called out for a
  great holy war fought
  between angels & demons
  & mankind & god & it'll
  be on pay-per-view,
  just you watch...
Still in the meantime, in case
  you forgot you might
  send yr donations
  to the rebuild-the-temple
  fund down in jerusalem,
  cause according to prophecy
  the world can't end
  until its done, which
  makes ya wonder why try
  to rebuild the damned
  thing in the first place...
& then ya gots politics, & lawyers
  & judges, law makers & breakers
  who sit above us & dictate
  our fate for the next
  hundred years w/ the
  signing of treaties we still
  haven't seen & the forces
  of darkness are waiting
  in the western wings...
It's a mexican standoff between
  corruption & time & we're
  way overdue for the fuse
  to ignite.  I fear that
  our structure is ready
  to fall & I spend every
  day mourning the end
  of this age of neon
See bricks are going to fly some
  where in the stillness of the
  hush of the moment of the
  first essence of the millenium,
  & that will be all it takes.
& when I smoked I never stood near the gas tank



(& now for one from the archives)

Gridlines

in the silence of completion
precision is discouraged
in the dawning of corruption
implosion becomes the watchword

gleefully sadistic dancers

allowing the growth of hate
state of internalization
put the issues to debate
dissipate the mythic image
realize the slave is controlled
exposed to the light of reason
time is allowed to disintegrate
integrate the deepest passions
life has left its taint
fate the treasonous master

dancing masochistic glee

from the echo of explosion
disruption of the pure
on the roads of perfection
completion becoming clear

this poem was written on 7/11/95
I include it here as a sort of marker
of how my work has grown - Zen werewolF










"bastard"