worth( <)n0things
destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, a worthless addict finds a God
angelheaded, burning for the ancient heavenly connection, but too fucked up to inquire the time
baring their brains to Heaven, or concrete, Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated, commint their own suicides
passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating
obscene odes on the windows of the skull,
listening to the terror through the wall,
selling their torsos night after night,
with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares
the word "innocence", drawn on dirt nightly, then pissed away in masse
with no short supply of meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement, slowly running out of chalk
who were the visionary angels,
who lounged hungry and lonesome through sex, like inversed rape
who disappeared into the volcanoes, even though there are no more virgins to sacrifice
who wore pacifist eyes, sexy while they pass out,breathing in gas and anthrax
who broke down crying,naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons,
who blew those human seraphim, that judged them as worthless time and time again
who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, as the beaches were red-washed with blood and abortion
who created great suicidal dramas on the apartment cliff-banks, tired of waiting for the messiah
who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness,forgetting their reason for living and substituting it with a fix
who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for Jesus, while G.O.D. delivers every night
who cut their wrists three times, then gave up giving up and went back to finish and fuck up a lifetime of fucking up
who cried all over the street,who cried all over their house, their bedroom, their life, their long long fall from grace
who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals
the religious with shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicides,
returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears
the absence of a crown of thorns but holding on firmy to their holier-than-thou bullshit
nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination
I stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out my soul
a rose reincarnated, again and again is too little to turn the tides of destruction
butchered out of their own bodies, the worthless humanity crawls back into the depths of hell, where there and only there can the whole ever hope to repay the miserable plague they have strived to become.
this was the poem HOWL, then i butchered it down to a handful of lines and added what was nessasary to get the point across that i wanted to. i could not even hope however to take credit for this.
angelheaded, burning for the ancient heavenly connection, but too fucked up to inquire the time
baring their brains to Heaven, or concrete, Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated, commint their own suicides
passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating
obscene odes on the windows of the skull,
listening to the terror through the wall,
selling their torsos night after night,
with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares
the word "innocence", drawn on dirt nightly, then pissed away in masse
with no short supply of meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement, slowly running out of chalk
who were the visionary angels,
who lounged hungry and lonesome through sex, like inversed rape
who disappeared into the volcanoes, even though there are no more virgins to sacrifice
who wore pacifist eyes, sexy while they pass out,breathing in gas and anthrax
who broke down crying,naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons,
who blew those human seraphim, that judged them as worthless time and time again
who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, as the beaches were red-washed with blood and abortion
who created great suicidal dramas on the apartment cliff-banks, tired of waiting for the messiah
who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness,forgetting their reason for living and substituting it with a fix
who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for Jesus, while G.O.D. delivers every night
who cut their wrists three times, then gave up giving up and went back to finish and fuck up a lifetime of fucking up
who cried all over the street,who cried all over their house, their bedroom, their life, their long long fall from grace
who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals
the religious with shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicides,
returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears
the absence of a crown of thorns but holding on firmy to their holier-than-thou bullshit
nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination
I stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out my soul
a rose reincarnated, again and again is too little to turn the tides of destruction
butchered out of their own bodies, the worthless humanity crawls back into the depths of hell, where there and only there can the whole ever hope to repay the miserable plague they have strived to become.
this was the poem HOWL, then i butchered it down to a handful of lines and added what was nessasary to get the point across that i wanted to. i could not even hope however to take credit for this.