mardi 3 juillet 2012

you shall feel

the bumpkin fell on her head last night
you could say she was inspired
she took a rocket from her purse
and lit the thing on fire

and all ablaze in a nuclear haze
she stumbled to the water
with one step on and one step off
her molecules got lighter

"i could not rest," she said to me
indicted by saintly crime
"when all around me is a hurt
i can no longer mime

"i carried this old rocket 'round
through war and rape and riot
and when at last i needed it
i set the thing on fire"

the nuclear heat was wearing her down
her skin began to peel
but on that day i knew that she
at last began to feel

adieu fair beauty in a cloud
i shall miss having you around
but i understand your burning need
to launch yourself and let it bleed

remember us on earth below
if consciousness holds fast and true
but if it does not at least you are free
from this empathic poverty

from nina paley's "sita sings the blues"

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