Viloence moves without puss inflated ceremony,
it has no force or golden nectar
but soldiers on through
hooded houses and deathly wards
disturbing rhythms of content.
No bullshit on its collar
or jackpot under its heels,
knuckles turn to talons in the hunt.
Rage dignified,
a ton punch in church.
Sing for the cascabel
and giddy lizards,
only poison will ever cure tantrums,
fire best fought through fury.
Smog in sunny graves
tear angels lungs to silk bonnets,
a million skulls cry for the better part of good.
It needs disease this slutty stunted world
because horrors die quicker in the jaws of brutality.
Gather the mad and whisper them war songs
so that twilight chains snap
and fist becomes flower,
crazy gulls do not hear nonsense.
The trick to cheating death
is to become crazier than Death itself.
Black heart pigs
warm their kidneys on wine
while toasting cripples
over the burning bodies of the sane.
Illness cannot find seed
in fleshy blankets of melanoma,
nor does war end with a feather or sonnet.
Double the dragon,
requiescat in pace...
@Steven Francis poems 2009
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