And When We Die

and when we die,

the rocks with eyes to fishermen and the shrouded fist,

punch blood as thick as hammers toes,

as blunt as we are stone crossed,

with angry eyes on top soil spooning marrows bone

as angry as the egg white bright and beautiful,

does Satan, limp as biscuit, stare us down?

this layered skin of death,

on books we hide from servants to the gods of blinkered moon,

how soon before

when whispers carved as screams,

do we rise jerusalems artichoke,

stare down our wounds as nature baked our baskets in a blood stream,

did Jehovah stand the sixty years of mongrel in a Jew?

yes we came, we conquered floods of feeding rice to the deep mans monument,

yet still, half naked, isles of light,

our lady of Capri in petticoat,

stands taller than the sex of passive vagabonds,

do we die in love and masturbate,

as sons of Monarch, daughters without soul or consequence,

hanging limp as ivy nestled deep in safety;

be nothing more than shapes to size the bugs retreat,

as white flags black as lungs eyes,

our child of nothing widows harp now the shafted death,

creeps lonely, purposeful, through semens' trees.

to flowers still remembered

now the distance in our hours dead as snowflake.

(this one goes out  to the one i love)

now as we die,

our crying hands of bakers on the sad street,

will walk the walrus miles to the coast of ivory

dip our dough balls in red current seas of still-born age

grow as peacocks as our Hamlet sings one merry mile from Juliet,

loves honour must obey;

the love that cocks his hind limbs drawn and slaughtered,

and when we die;