un deux trois quatre For the coming insurrection For the deep joy of political distraction For the loose leaves of drunk tea And their prophetic idle indecency For the blessed in lack of solo thought For the wine in the cup and the tongue Spilling the blood, newly forked For the candles in the window that you Just can’t leave to burn For the spinning of the dreidel and the ashes In the urns You mobs glo For the reason and rhyme of insecurities For all the monochrome dire uniformities For the war already lost And for the one that’s yet to come For the dumplings in the window And the plague of the undone For the bended knee to others adventures Who sit uselessly contemplating A thousand different genders For the collective power of being able to stop up The channels of robust debate For all the fiery delights of your newly directed hate You mobs glo For the witches without broomsticks Who do not pass the test For the delicate songbird And the robin in her nest For the very weather that swirls Humanity round the drains For the delight of demagogues Who prey on the simple minded’s pain For the decadence of your democracy For the lame unjust judges You pretend you cannot hear or see They are coming for you after they Come gunning for me. For the ghostly echoes on the Conch shell beach haunting Each and every Sappho’s darling Who dares to eat a peach. For you and you: every each to each You mobs glo For those who do not spout the catechism Of your newly founded cult For those who have compassion and for whom Kindness is a fault For those who are but kindling to an iron curtain drum For those that hold the power, yet have never run For those that split the tinder hoping to get laid And those that prefer to dress as a skinny parlor maid For those that want to live a life living as they made For the jail-bound bent over inked-up worn out rough trade For pagan joy, the fentanyl fetus, the bare of foot And the legions of solo meat beaters You mobs glo I have my own mob, we are called the unclean We shit in your cupboards and piss in your streams We snort all the powders and shoot all the dope We hang ourselves daily and watch each other choke We will never obey, never kneel down to pray We taunt the Priests with their anal addictions And tongue each other’s suppurating afflictions We bathe in the shadows, the moon is our friend We will dance in the graveyards and watch as your Civilized world burns slowly as it ends. For you straight armed marchers with your Sawn off crematorium salutes And you burnt necked faux fighters In your gas guzzling chevvy utes And you lipsticked manipulators Of feminist pursuits And you judgers of who we love And how we love each other to boot And you wheedling hoards with your Dandelion smiles who hide your Knives before stabbing at the Free and the wild… My mob glos!
