06-23-2012, 12:08 PM
Me and the lads were scooping up steak with our hands
while the lass cried outside. We'd hitched her to a porch railing
and stood in line the night before, me at the front,
being everyone's pa. No other human life has set foot here
since the war of times ago. My lads aren't raised on ink and page.
Sun is son and land is sand and would is wood and the lass is game;
"sister/daughter" means nothing; neither does "brother/son".
(sun son sun son sun son sun son)
Images are faggot play. One lad was drawing in the land
so me and the others smashed his head.
Now he staggers everywhere. He's not cried like the lass, though,
who cries so much I wonder if she'll wash herself away,
like Alice, that girl in the hole I heard about as a lad.
Before the lass her ma was hitched to that post,
when the war still lived and arts weren't quite extinct.
A few painters and poets hid underground,
beating out their images. All that's left is literal.
while the lass cried outside. We'd hitched her to a porch railing
and stood in line the night before, me at the front,
being everyone's pa. No other human life has set foot here
since the war of times ago. My lads aren't raised on ink and page.
Sun is son and land is sand and would is wood and the lass is game;
"sister/daughter" means nothing; neither does "brother/son".
(sun son sun son sun son sun son)
Images are faggot play. One lad was drawing in the land
so me and the others smashed his head.
Now he staggers everywhere. He's not cried like the lass, though,
who cries so much I wonder if she'll wash herself away,
like Alice, that girl in the hole I heard about as a lad.
Before the lass her ma was hitched to that post,
when the war still lived and arts weren't quite extinct.
A few painters and poets hid underground,
beating out their images. All that's left is literal.
"We believe that we invent symbols. The truth is that they invent us; we are their creatures, shaped by their hard, defining edges." - Gene Wolfe