Dog goD 8Hate
Vanishing New York
Yeah, I know, for one -
the lost Bowery...
I'll tell you what was there,
along that cherished old tract:
I was there! ! !
I and my just-joust, zealot's heart...
committed (it’s suicide) , saturated in
an obscure-scope of gaudy-god,
what's ironic, Hell religion.
Yeah, I was there & bent on the cause,
contending daily contra forces,
they (modern capitalists)
steeped in the GROSS illusion,
would roll on the walk of my shoe.
I, chief negator, astute in the cause
and what's beyond that ludicrous notion:
baloney fried with hog snout,
in savorless, blood-meal gravy.
Me, by myself, standing daily
tall as that copper Lady, the one French
in the bay.
Only MY torch had light, 'REAL LIGHT! ”
beyond mere intensity or stars. I...
with my mightily & imbued psyche,
so staunch, so given, so rare…
filled with 'lunacy? ', His!
Yes, I was there,
for years and years,
but now...well now...
now I've achieved new status:
I man-a-cure god's nails,
and with metaphoric files
made in my own notion,
in colloquial craft.
I saw... I see…
and I saw some more;
I eat his dignity, daily...
breakfast, lunch, & dinner.
It’s… VIRTUE! ! ! ! !
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(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
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