the weapon

killing man
killing child
killing man-child
in the name of God
in the name of Allah
in the name of wrinkled colorized photographs
in golden glitter frames
of Chairman Mao
swaying back and forth beneath rear view mirrors
in Beijing taxicabs
can you hear them
the dead can whisper
when the dust bleeds like ruddy mud
hardened droplets
on newly forgotten graves
irrelevant and banned from tv broadcast news
by the alliance of evil

at one time I thought myself as a killer
trained, ordained, pledged and sworn
to Orwellian symbolic virtues
killing mind
killing time
killing thought
while they strapped the weapon so tightly on my shoulder
my arm grew numb and my heart and that rifle were as one
and my swinting eye traversed her length
my cheek pressed to her butt
in my arms as a woman
known to me in secret affection
I lay with her that afternoon
prone...
ready...
cock fire

a time to murder
a time to rape
a time to go insane
while white coats and IV's and perscription medicines pump through unsuspecting
martyrs, heroes of the new world order...
defenders of liars
and the father of all lies
concealed behind the greatest lie
that demons are angels
and devils are gods
that God is Satan
that black is white
that death is life
that freedom is apathy for some
and tyranny for all the rest
while I sit comfortably in my naive deception sipping coffee, reading books, smoking
and discussing questions of hypothetical importance
finding conclusions of philosphical simulation...
killing hope
killing fear
what weapon will give invincible virtues...and
if the greatest weapon is love how can the dead be trimuphant
while the murders rape the women and children
and set the fields afire
what is in the mind of the murderer to supply an invincible righteousness
while he sleeps at night, so soundly, serenly, complicit in ignorance,
bathes his children in procelian tubs ringed with brass
and shiny ornaments, under track lighting, skylights, custom made home alarms,
gun closets, wandering pit-bulls and private security
killing truth
killing love
killing me
killing you

spider mummies

the dusty lace
weaved by spider mummies
buried deep in tombs
and caves
bunkers of Babylon
those same cobwebs
wrap around
light fixtures
holy halo's
glowing yellow
shinning in the white midst
of a celebrated indifference
an acidic pall of inhumanity
read aloud by a canine ingenuity
I looked and saw
the forgotten light prisms
spectrums from a time
when God was a memory
in the mind of children
possessed by demons
inside double minds
on temporal thoughts
of pleasure
somehow knowing that just by
holding her
and touching her
beneath the lace of her impurity
the lace of her thigh high
a lover without love
a lover that needs nothing
asks for nothing
is nothing
let me see
under the blinders
beyond the horizon of name and face
numbers and assignments
and census bureau feedback
there beneath the mask of personality
a woman
imprisoned by shame
wrapped in silken misty dogma
court briefs and private papers
and institutions
a hardness
penetrated soft
knowing only that lace
and softness
the measure of our intimacy
2 lonely bodies
laced
wanting
both
privacy
and intimacy

run run......................

bullets drop from the sky
as pre teen asian girls
run naked
crying
burning
singing the song
of napalm
reigning through the hardened globe
casting a new dimension on Iraq
my brother told me he would
drive a truck for 500 thousand a year
until his head was severed by a large knife
and seen on the internet
in cold acquiescence to an unseen power
my sister is apolitical
a defense contractor lackey
paid off with bourgeois trinkets
for we all shall surely die
some rich
some poor
all dead
and what does life mean
once my $200 toaster sits on a shelf
at Value Village for $15
and my beloved car is transformed into a mobile
teenage party-mobile
and my body
puffed up and saturated with
fluids like a decorated cadaver
lies in a tomb
beneath the earth
as the bombs fall in Babylon
as flies swarm over
hungry
naked
black children's swelled bellies
under hot African sons
on the sands of power
greedy people
having all but never
enough
as ignorant people
committing violence
from America
live
over the internet
in the name
of Freedom?
killing
in his name
live
over the internet
of Freedom............

boomtombtomb..................

© 2000 peguesmusic

this scratch vox of boomtomb was recorded last night with peguesproject sound engineer Jonny Mendoza on guitar and Rog doin a scratch rap.............have a listen..................Y2b the nu-jazz hip-hop cd will debut ealy next year.....

cafe vega is on the move.........................

the movement is growing..........................