Two kin talkin’ Tolkien in the kitchen when I walked in
They’re good kids always growing upwards
So let it sink in or you will sink
I’m Elijah on ascent; no blood in me innocent
A dada Derrida on C9 with comp B
It’s the peasants who poison the Leviathan in its sleep
But I’m no St. George and my sword’s out of reach
So I’ll leave
I’ll take the beachhead down
To Watership Down:
through the Garden,
over Walden
to find the Down.
Low hum melody of summer cicada-painted wall murals on section 8 housing to sing the residents to sleep
I traded gun shots for bird songs
and protests for quiet calm
Lawsuits for patience
and dead cops for silence
I come back to my hope running home
Dressed in black garb, blue eyes turned
my way and I stop ‘cause I know what they say:
“Come see the body. It’s embalmed and ready.”
I hold no misconceptions on the road that winds before me
for I can tell the difference in the gait of step beside me
of all the misanthropic antiquated morons on a mission
It’s a d**h march of zombie walking people taking tours of motion
and back home, my cold darkosis nervosa
Why hold your quarter upward as if you seek forgiveness
When you twist your wicked fingers ‘round in desperate irreverence
So I’ll leave
I’ll take the beachhead down
To Watership Down:
through the Garden,
over Walden
to find the Down.