Born in Babylon
by John McClellan
19 poor countries
& it takes 150 of these kind
to equal a few rest stops
going any direction on any hwy in Babylon
i/I was born in Babylon, i/I, a babionic jet set of
shared interests
shared ignorance, shared humanity, not to mention
the independence of totality
that is why-
declivities rise out of expansion & security of the
upward
and mobile saliency
but as there is no security, but only metamorphosis
i/I can no longer halter my proclivities toward
change
desolate peace
on a desolate earth
drinking with so much thirsty abundance
stopping, not stopping the first
but not using the first as the only excuse
but the last also,
the last we had before we forgot
America was born by the Jackel's vagina
born by the fangs it injected into the
people of older days
projected into the shamans quilt of corn and gold that
the latter cut
out of older maize, older flaxen acid of wealth
That America, was born way before any flesh was
ruptured and
allowed to decay under the lens of the Occident or
the decimated
Was their decimation proof of less superior
forms as they contend?
All born out of necessity, perhaps
and our necessity is thwarted from the
transparent polar plexus- born into ignorance
the worlds genocide, construed by darkness
to be a necessity of surviving
making secure the choice of god, goddess or yahweh's
choker
that ordains lesser than lesser sub-divisions of color
and form
another choice of visual graphics
a reliance on weak strength
this rooted in the ignorance of ourselves as well
our decimation is proof of nothing
nothing but advantage and weakness
weakness of brutality
advantage in masochism.
how the fuck do i/I get out of here?
i/I, both sadist & masochist, the same
For first was the belly
then was the throat
with hunger and misgivings
in a body of bloat
Four directions, but not exact
all in an overlay of sanction
soaked in a sobbing aridness
19 poor countries
that are richer than Babylon
and are sucked by their very organs
parched by mistaken, evil, purposed evils & goods
transported to and from the forgetfulness of
metamorphosis
or the very present, amorphous, changeless coup
knowing not the glimpse
knowing not the lamp
but all the same
responsibility the same
i/I have died by my very own hands
every time , every time
i/I, born in Babylon
wishing
for more of a shared interest
interest that gathers interest
rather than the decimation and decay
of consensual sadism
perceiving new torn bungholes
and chained necks in wanting
For some will come for you
and some will watch
some will push it
some will run
some will want your head
some will want your heart
some will spit and slap your
lifeless broken corpse
what do u do?
what do u do?
what ends do work?
what means do torque?
what will you- come for, push, run, want, spit and
slap?
what remains when all is lost?
i/I, born in Babylon
can't fathom how i/I got here
the here, i/I didn't choose
the here, i/I did choose