Declaration and Demands

[Seated At A Cherrywood Desk En His Uncle’s Tuscan Villa,
The Divine Messenger Puts His Bamboo Quill 2 A Blank Sepia Page.

En A Writing Vox, Born Of Love And Courage, He Authors A Declaration
And Then A Litany Of Demands On The Present World And Its Amoral Pantheon.]

WE choose 2 not defile our spirits with your political bodies
WE choose 2 not be the building stones of an economic bastille
That will enevitably call upon us 2 smith shackles 4 our brothers
And then ourselves

WE choose 2 not do this
WE choose 2 not lie, cheat, and steal
WE choose 2 not have our spirits brought 2 heal

WE choose 2 not fear our neighbor
2 not envy his happiness
2 not covet his dame

WE choose 2 not walk blindly
2 not be blind

WE choose 2 not shed another precious drop of blood
4 the brutes en suits
And striped silk ties

WE choose 2 not covet the purse of our countrymen
WE choose 2 not hoard the pantry’s Ghee
When WE know there are Paupers and Pros who need it most

WE choose 2 not demonise
WE choose 2 not hate
WE choose 2 not be the willing (or unwilling) host
Of an ill-conceived and misanthropic fate

This,
WE choose

This here!
This here!

{Two-Beat Pause}

WE choose Beauty o’er Fashion
WE choose Resolve o’er Blame

WE choose Thalia o’er Scarcity
WE choose Bliss o’er Fame

Thus

WE, the Seekers and Sowers of The Aesthetics Underground,
Demand a great healing 4 a world terribly sick

A world w/out oil (4 the lantern’s wick)
A world w/out flow

A world w/out light
A world w/out soul

{One-Beat Pause}

A world w/out poise
A world w/out rarefied aire
(4 the Righteous 2 breathe)

A world w/out maidens,
Tall, blonde, and irresistibly fair
(Much too fair 4 Love’s Rogue 2 leave)

{Fingercymbals-Twice}

WE demand Prometheus be unbound
WE demand Atlas be given wings
WE demand Medusa be adored (4 the divinity she is)

WE demand the right of our Heav’nly Grandmother’s apron pouch
2 house a bevy of otherworldly things:

Golden Apples,
Figs and Almonds and Pomegranate Seeds!

WE demand a new Garten 4 Adonis
And a new grazing Skye 4 Apollo’s fiery steeds

WE demand that Mercy like Misery
Be given the freedom 2 walk stride 4 stride

From dusk ‘til morn
From tide 2 tide

{Two-Beat Pause}

WE demand that ev’ry Prince and Princess born
Be granted the means 2 re-di-rect their personal lot

WE demand an arrow thru ev’ry heart
And a shakti 4 ev’ry maverick, en the thicket, caught

Thus

WE, the Seekers and Sowers of The Aesthetics Underground,
Demand a great healing 4 a world terribly sick

Sick of Sorrow
Sick of Ignorance

Sick of Tyranny
Sick of Pain

Sick of Division

Sick, sick, sick
. . . at heart

© The Herder 20Seventeen

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BuddhaPrayer Nr.2

Awakened One
Perfect One
Radiant One

We are all doing what we think we ought 2 and
We are all losing ground (losing faith)

Tho’ we hold the mala
Tho’ we recite the hallowed refrains
Until their syllables, en our throats, quake

[Aside.]
Whatever it takes, mama /
Whatever it takes 4 Nag 2 enflate his hood

Awakened One
Perfect One
Radiant One

We are all doing what we think we ought 2 and
We are all losing ground (losing faith)

Tho’ the heirs of David wail
Tho’ they rejoice en the Torah

Tho’ they rejoice over the Law
And press slips of paper b’tween
Blocks of stone en the wall

[Aside.]
Whatever it takes, mama /
Whatever it takes 2 close the gates of Hell

Awakened One
Perfect One
Radiant One

We are all doing what we think we ought 2 and
We are all losing ground (losing faith)

Tho’ the Christians drink the blood of their Savior
Tho’ they pierce his heart and eat his flesh

Tho’ they pray
Tho’ they sway (to and fro)
Tho’ they sing

[Aside.]
Whatever it takes, mama /
Whatever it takes 2 lay a crown of thorns upon the head of a shepherd king

Awakened One
Perfect One
Radiant One

We are all doing what we think we ought 2 and
We are all losing ground (losing faith)

Tho’ the TRUE Followers of the Prophet make the Hajj
Tho’ the TRUE Followers of the Prophet hark the call

Tho’ they face the holy city of Mecca
Tho’ they face the east and triumphantly submit

[Aside.]
Whatever it takes, mama /
Whatever it takes 2 slay despair, slay Iblis,
Slay this terrible, terrible beast

Awakened One
Perfect One
Radiant One

We are all doing what we think we ought 2

Still, we are losing ground
Still, we are losing faith

And soon
Very soon

The Palace floor is going 2 give way

And soon
Very soon

The Palace columns are going 2 buckle

Under the weight of brass shell casings
Under the weight of pipe bombs
Under the weight of charging lorries

Under the weight of dead black boys
Under the weight of murdered cops

Under the weight of Chicago drive-bys
Under the weight of unlawful stops

Under the weight of whyte carnations
Under the weight of a broken rainbow

Under the weight of a plain pine box
Under the weight of black key requiems

Under the weight of young widows
Under the weight of tall shadows

Under the weight of orphans
Under the weight of sackcloth

Under the weight of hate
Under the weight of death
Under the weight of spiritual contraction

Awakened One
Perfect One
Radiant One

We are all doing what we think we ought 2

Except love our neighbors
Except love our foes
Except cherish our scars

Except strive mightily 2 be Noble, Generous, and Just!

Lord Buddha,
We are all doing what we think we ought 2

Except what mama told us
Except what papa showed us
Except what we must

2 stop losing ground
2 stop losing faith

© The Herder 2016

The Ballad of Ev’ryman Pt.1

En a perfect World,
Ev’ryman’s childhood is an Age of Gold
Wherein the sum of creation is beheld
Thru lenses tinted rose

In Illo Tempore

It is an Age en which Grandfather nev’r takes 2 his bed
And the Junky plays it straight

{Tapping A Good Vein On The Lower Left Arm – Twice}

Clean veins, clear head!

{One-Beat Pause}

It is an Age en which candles shine
And rarely, if ever, flicker

But we grey leopards know better, do we not?

We know the bitterness that lies beyond the gilded illusion
We know the sponge of vinegar offered at the close of the Age
We know (o, so well) how candles flicker

Regardless of Circe’s temperament
Regardless of whether or not she calls the winds 2 blow forth

{One-Beat Pause}

This crag of bitterness, we are bound 2 approach
And approach it we must
And approach it we do

This great mystery of Life,
Its most masterful trick –
The moment when one becomes two

Courting angels of
Lust, Fear, Jealously, and Conflict

[The Vox Of Ev’ryman Aside.]
O, how tyme flies
When your crown, above the clouds, gloomily hangs
And your heels are rooted
2 the steppes of that which will be lost and nev’r found again

© LogosVox 2014