the hippie (in chief) (imagine8peace) wrote in ink_blot_cafe,
the hippie (in chief)


Kill me, man.
Leave me stricken on an acid flame.
The ancient Greeks had it right:
Eros aiming at hearts
Little boy shooting
For years and years

We, here, whipped and beaten and pummeled
Fucked and fucked over
Bought and bitten and rolled
Crucified in the name of love
Pierced with arrows
Ripped by wild lions
Targets of his bow

And still, stricken, smitten,
Lips ground together,
Hands squeezed until they’d burst
Songs screamed to ancient zodiacs
Brains beaten and battered

Beggars and paupers and prostitutes
Paint on our faces,
Aerosol in our hair
Scratching at scalps and along spines
Neuroses in poems and pictures,
Frenetic and desperate verse –

Our hair torn and cut
Our bed sheets bleeding
Our thighs grown swollen

Making these beautiful crying things
Born covered in wet fluid
Red and raw like all our actions.
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