5.10 / October 2010

she’s a prayin’ kind

i am fifth in the line of twelve men prayin for the night to end
some can wrap a prayer in gravy and straight conversate His name
some marinate in ass sweat soaked up to the spine
some can dark the hell outta a church door
the eighth will get home to find steak still cooking
the first will go home to find beer just turn warm
the one behind me thinks of a woman
they all feel Him turn over when i open up my mouth


on sacrificial offerings

you know it done ready
when you wanta
bloody up the coals
all shakin with pig fat
with yer tongue

first just taste his blood
we don’ care bout molars
or the chaw grass that
unmake him from man
we want a cleartaste of
his cover and the salt

all about his back
but most want of the blood

on treating others

you sure do say
alotta things

boy if you done say
this is yer house
then i recken
you done best’
pay me

on them homogays

18: 22                      
i recken we
can keep
this one
-spit of chaw
fuck yeah

that ain’t how we do it here
first we gonna run ya
get a taste of fear to marinate the blood
gonna herd ya to wet corners
gonna kick yer ass
and then we gonna brand ya with our name

how the gays pray for rain

we know the meaning of   august, Lord
cause our tongues are dead birds
dried in our fathers’ dug wells
and our hands the last of green grass
give us pardon