ALL THAT HALLOWED IRREVERENCE
Yes, yes, mother, I'm your swami.
I guess you could say that; I like
the knockout punch. The one that
slams them flat when they weren't
even looking for that. Watching my
left, but I get them with the right.
What's the use of a half-assed fight?
So listen up, my ancient lady, I
may have fallen out of you, but it's
nothing real to me : just the average
discourse of a drawn and dirty land.
-
When I go to others, I act a killer:
That knockout punch again but
with words. Not idle words, just
words. The ones that knock you
over; my wise-man swami clothes
you always claim to see me in
through dreams and near-collisions.
All life is a figment. You're dead
nearly twenty years, what are
you doing here now?
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