We The Mob Obscene Poem by David Lacey

Let your hair down - Step outside
Open your eyes to the song of the world
O wonder unsung
We the young are restless
Found in chaotic distress - fondling the memory of messy scenes
We the mob obscene
We the kings unseen
Suckling upon the mammary of life's lost caress.
We who know the way to grow beneath a blanket snow.

This place was never meant for us
Where is the land we were promised?
Where is the voice who promised us?

I could cry in thinking - Some die in sinking.

My finger on the crimson trigger
My figure of a diamond digger

It is I who bears the Christ child across the ocean of eternity
It is I who have seen all that is unseen in the flare of emotions raging.