LY (08-22-1951 / between the lips and thighs in Montreal)

I Love England And Spain

Because I love the rain
I can't say why
It suits my mood
Most of the time
That’s why I know
rain is the best of all

some people say
watch out for Hell
don’t if it’s another place
but all the frustration, erroneous
sometimes you wonder
tragic-comical thoughts that echo
forgooten truth in swollen intonation
there is only one heaven only one Hell
you bought a life there and cakled it paradsise
thogh everyone knows
the tell each other every day
but are like the victums of lobotomous electric
words with real significance
words that tell us wgere we live
that’s why we say
But we know not what we say or do

exercise and numbifying
live right eat well
forget the past particible of dangling

biting your tongue
take it out of your hand
you shouldn’t be thinking

much less speaking
unless you are
repeating phrases repeating
false information, repeating ideas and points of view
that kill you first
then bring you back to auto matonic revelation
born to Christ
born to the world and all it’s views,
what can you do
as long as it is done in the sun
of southern california

words were thrown at you for 15 years
harder than rock
penetrrating visions and compliance to man made needs
we believe thay ‘re
straight from God or
biological chemical invasion
God is omnipresent
Perhaps most of all in your medications in Prozac Nation

Don’t have to
Don’t have to worry
you’ll do exactly what we you say
we believe
we have what we need
it’s Faith
in primitive projective
faith is truth is a lesson
take it to heart

meaningful words and “ actual” facts
are but a lie it’s been said again
what is there to say
all been said before
but let’s recognize the final twitches a corpse will make
expressing dimmest awareness
expressed as foolish child-like pride

take your tongue
out your hand, imagine

something from nothing, Eliot
(ness) Sartre) ,
two most articulate men
know themselves
know misbegotten ventures,

Oh, Marquis de Sade
with incontinent bum fucking
tore the truth, gave clear voice, proclaimed
expressions of disapproval
beaten worse than rabid dogs
left for dead nearly

it/s very hard to tell
distinguigh a persecuting hand and mind
from genuine non-sexualized incest
in general terms pure evul
a boot in the ass and third rate
dogg food, mimicking prosciptions of vicious
ethnocentric babboons and finally dying...
escorted to the tomb...
a painted bird in a xenophobic flock

like I said
I love England

For the rain
For the rain

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Mary Elizabeth Frye

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

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