Fight For It: Take me back to that place wrought with tense, push pull biting sticks, ripped up, flipped over with beauty breeze. Uncovered my unconscious friends all mumbling down there my deep desires, pushing fighting kicking against spiritual discomforts, angered by friendly giants, shattered shards of being he said. I spike those shards through shadow enemies.
She lingers too long, I covert no-one. Mick Jagger saves and disrupts the passage of time. Blister feet twist moral issues into gravel, then we’ll get to the bottom of it, fuck it I’ll shoot a movie, she’ll travel to Steppenwolf.
I’ll put all that mad gun energy into Hollywood legends and bitter filmmakers, 35mm flick through lenses as brothers brood and piss in each others coke cups. Macho ripples of blood rushing, clashing bucks, man a solitary creature instigated by the wild winds of other people, get the girl, fight the beast. To get to Elysium, you have to put in the work, there’s still dark shadows to travel.
David Hockney striking poses, hiding behind strange images, bullshit images, images that lie, lying postures, but it’s a generational thing, respect for your elders and betters they say, as they line crimson walls speaking their quiet truths of accomplishment. I know these people, they have no use for the young, we washed the shores of their mistaken growth, we on our own terms have the future gripped and poised to move in our direction, our law, our provenance, give us your stories elders and leave us to carve and govern this youth that’s all we have. When that runs out we’ll be just like you, you think. Tell that to the void, it’s the only certainty you have.
Take me back there, dream drifters we fly. I’ll fight for gold to drape your neck, I’ll wage wars to get you back, launching a thousand ships is like bashed up kindle to the worlds I will make for us.