To Those.  

"Vanity of Vanities, Says Qoheleth, All Things Are Vanity!"
Ecclesiastes 12:8

Lets walk,
Come,

I have seen the walls of China town built upon opiate poppies
Littered with cinder block two dollar heroin launder mats
And weak chop stick teeth.

I have walked through lives receded underneath bubbling transit stairs
Passed the eyes of blue cotton swab musicians in Russia's angry cold
Seen the duck tape jackets of Hope Mission rectories
Sheltered among stone pubescent handfuls of newborn teeth.

I have watched pregnant women pick lice from the empty streets of Moloch
Old bookstore owners amongst dead shelves in the light of autumn deserts
Where gold is worth its weight in obescity
Where coin sits fragile under the silver heat of June

I have made love under a thousand purple moons
Fell asleep with stone nipples in my mouth in the February of a mountain city
Spoke words of rector subsidiaries in the bounty of my ignorance
And there was no egyptian god to recognize my sins.
And there was no leper child to dignify my name.

Let the Hebrews come
And thine was the kingdom
And from calumny withhold your tongues
Neither is there any remedy for man's dying 
Neither is there any accordance from man's secretary

And I, the belief
And I, depart
And I, the maker
And I, alone

Let us see, the slow footprints upon the mexican sands
Let us see, time eternal amongst our clocks
Let us bleed, and full our gutters
Let us each, hear the token of our cities

I have climbed rooftops during purple legions of milk clouds
That dripped semen from the feet of pigeons
Drank the pages of Keats with a nice brandy
Among strewn tarot cards of Blake's discretion.

I have watched our lands ravenged and toiled and cited and thrown
Seen our forest profane and broken
Watched our kindred settled amongst liquor snake skin and toothpick lies
Seen the eyes of our blessings flown from us in the mouth of the raven

And I have never stopped to breath the unwanted
And I have never stopped to mend the unsoldered

I eternal, in plastic bins
I eternal, amongst my people
I eternal, forever in the black haired tents of Kedar
Drooled loosely upon the valvic fissures of Salma

Covered in the torn, loose, clothes of a satyrs fur
And brought deftly through the temples of Pagoda, where my
Chin ceases to rise. When my shadow walks a step ahead of me,
Where my staff never falters in the metallic hour.

And please oh Rubywood give me leverage
And please oh Bodhi give me shade
And please oh maple bring me girth
And please.

And I had finally found rest in Sharon
Within the golden copulated capsules of sands blown buildings
Where there are no roofs to keep the rain
Where there is no mud to sculpt plastic faces

I give my song, to the slow, wise parters of David
I give my song, to the unforgiving construction of ethereal blessing
I give my song, from me, to my gathering children
I give my song, and send it upon the winds of little wings

I give my song
I give my song
I give my song

Hear these teeth, speak this silence, breath this insulation, and the see the faces
of soggy, downed, souls, 
As we are now.
The  immaculate conception of retirement.

And it is from here I shall return to the sick, cancerous ideals of the west.
Traveling the Indians seas on a raft, sew with the blonde hair of Ariadne
And her breath bring me distance from those soggy shores
And leave me the skin of Dionysus to keep me warm.

And it will be soon, we'll arrive home

I Have came to amass those living and dead.

I give my song.

© 2007 Layne L'Heureux