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Writing on the Wall

My two angels in the hand or in the burning-bush

Increased the hardness of these impotent men

Living bread... loveth the fruits of my animated wine

Life said not of this time, from the opened ancestors gash

My father... that hath set me up, in these kingdoms come

Man to him... gains... what is in his opened resourcefulness

And he denies the truth, with illusions, with dreams

Answered by the labour of his sweet unkind vices

Said Jesus... of the Chairman, my son... Mao

From the iron barrels, bullets, out of the gun...red power

Red propaganda, Red bible, Red butchery spilt

From the RED-club, the feast of maggots and flies

Peter, Paul, doubting Thomas and the Zen-Way

Roman soldiers, grit and storms got in the way

And by the word they stood by weedy curb side

Disciples of revolts, shaman-zombies with stand the way

The father hath sent me on this avocation-dance

He poureth wine from the Holy Grail-goblet

By the countless dew perfumed droplets

Why have you deserted me, why have you forsaken-me?

And beasts of the atomic intergalactic seminars

Mercurialize in the doomed hours, poets beseech

Or weeping in the promenades of hallucination nooks

Vocation on Black-holed macrocosmos, down on Gravitas Street.

poem by Lubinous Labinous