Thank god for Hugh Manatee,
because I was falling furrowed onto nebula following me
like a cast of characters borrowed
from bukowski's journals
Like summits blowing along the dusty wind
crowning the hearts and minds of twins
that know nothing about the sin lying between
the two eyes of their bedeviled birth.

I was falling onto friends deceived devilishly
Trying feverishly to keep their train keeping
the same path that has been creaking
a weeping journey through the old battlefields
where many men lay dying
Now my amigos practice the art of
escaping the fight
and
becoming the common denominator
whilst,
I
(like a clock turning inwards)
am
the
un-identified
victor...

The switch blades of history slice savagely between vice and vitriol
ending the established trade between organism and alcohol.

Victory was always known
because the pendulum swings between each throne
above and below
high and low
heaven and heavens' fallen dough
that seeks to rise and to scorch
the souls of my own humanity
We've nowhere to stand and nowhere to hide
this is our century and we should fight for our pride
to uphold the memories of our mothers leashed
to the whip that holds the memories of our histories creased
betwixt painful tears bent brutally by the arm of the biters of the dust,
rising like turning maggots in a bed of frenzied fiends.

The switch blades of history slice savagely between vice and vitriol
ending the established trade between organism and alcohol.

And victory was always known
yet still lies out of reach.
And providence found me within light
Yet kept me bright at night,
and the hours of the devils most painful bringing called the land to uproot the roots of truthfull belonging
Yet I found myself falling into arms outreached
and friends bereaved allowed me to breathe in the truth of their soul.

And I found myself flying back to heavenly land
like a swallow supported upon luscious zephyrs
floating on oceans of virtue
waving like lands coming together
a reversal of our mundane history

flying up into the vocal chords of an angel
dancing between the strumming rythms of sons united
emerging in brilliant brio
as glorious smiles delighted
in the start of my sanguine embyro.

flying above the grovelling satan
pawning empty shells and soliciting his now forsaken
and digging graves for his taken souls
still swearing to uphold his searing downbringing
of all that is congenital of this creation.

From here Hugh Manatee gained fortitude,
like a letter delivered with sweet paradise
and Hugh was sent back to pulverise upon Satan's back
and to spread mettle amongst against his salaciously depricating smith of fear and fucking evil.