Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
Not So Silently
I remember red,
Not only my blood as if fell
On the bathroom floor,
But red as in the Native
That has been scoured into my mind.
Red as the Indian with his horse,
Traveling the crying road,
The Trail of Tears.
Well, my tears fall on another trail,
One where my red and white
Lack a blue and
Mix together, producing an ugly pink.
Vomit pink, for my soul
Has thrown up another
Point of remembrance.
The imprints in life,
They haunt me,
They graze me not so slightly or softly.
They puncture the f--k out of me,
Leave me lying here,
Bleeding from the inside out
And crying into the Mother Earth,
The only Mother who'll hold
Me when I cry,
When I'm weeping and moaning out ‘whys.'
But it's my actual mother, at work,
Who hurts me.
And I'm waiting for
Her to come home,
Seeing my face in hers,
And running, as always,
To my hell, where I
Can cry in a solemn quietude.
September 6, 2005
Suge
Not only my blood as if fell
On the bathroom floor,
But red as in the Native
That has been scoured into my mind.
Red as the Indian with his horse,
Traveling the crying road,
The Trail of Tears.
Well, my tears fall on another trail,
One where my red and white
Lack a blue and
Mix together, producing an ugly pink.
Vomit pink, for my soul
Has thrown up another
Point of remembrance.
The imprints in life,
They haunt me,
They graze me not so slightly or softly.
They puncture the f--k out of me,
Leave me lying here,
Bleeding from the inside out
And crying into the Mother Earth,
The only Mother who'll hold
Me when I cry,
When I'm weeping and moaning out ‘whys.'
But it's my actual mother, at work,
Who hurts me.
And I'm waiting for
Her to come home,
Seeing my face in hers,
And running, as always,
To my hell, where I
Can cry in a solemn quietude.
September 6, 2005
Suge
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Not So Silently
Not So Silently
