Your Body Is Your Universe

Praise the muscles that hold you up

Treat the messengers of our nervous system kindly

Enjoy the rise and fall of your lungs

And the everlasting beat of your heart

Because it’s all you’ve ever known

Since you came into this world

You’ll depart before hearing it stop

The Promised Land

I hope it’s like they said

That the land has the softness

Of a thousand beds

That each blade of grass

Holds a field

That the rain massages you

And that you never go hungry again

That the food springs up from the ground

At a stomachs grumble

The Fascist Pet

Meticulous planner with the soft heart

Well, a heart that was soft, but now, battered, calloused

Hands tiny and fingers wandering, wanting

Servile loyalty to his God

Someone has to lead

His face is better than mine

So it shall be him

He will be their God

But I have plans

I am the mechanical clockwork

Behind the face of God

That keeps this whole charade going

When the face rots away

The people will see what we really are

What we’ve done

I will be absolved, hopefully