Walking the pinto streets of white Aspen at dawn,
I see a Country of False Unity.
I see you burning.
I see you frozen.
I see you drowning in apathy.
I see survivors
clinging
to mountain meadows,
and flooded banks,
where soft and vivid flowers grow.
TVs, gadgets, giant cars
plug holes in our soles
and souls
and imagination.
We used to walk!
We used to wander in wonder.
Some still!
But
our country is taking our country,
for oil and gas,
for cable cars in Grand Canyons
that used to be safe and wild;
Fuel for Moloch!
Suck these nipples,
these final drops
of the Drying,
Dying
American Dream,
that false Fix for wants.
(I want more!)
than this thirst-sucking Sewage.
But I am down a river
out of sight
and sound,
drowning in the muck of an LA desert;
A river of wasting life
to spray false hope from casinos,
and water lawns of wealthy lawyers
who lobby for Money.
Moloch!
How could we forget Moloch?
That consumer of Man;
Moloch who made Ginsberg Howl,
half a century ago.
Moloch –
who tightened its fist as the towers toppled.
Moloch the monster.
Moloch the destroyer.
Moloch the soul sucker.
Moloch in government, Drones and bombs.
Moloch in the schools.
Moloch in the streets, blasting horns and stabbing fingers in the sky.
Moloch in my Mothers,
splitting Her in two.
Moloch in our hearts,
burning, burning, burning, burning, burning BRIGHT Light
into shadowed,
frothing darkness.
We crawl beneath
a shrouded,
flapping banner of one – our Guise of shelter
shredding apart.
Fucked.
Fuck you. Moloch.
Fuck your guns and bullets.
Fuck your religious tools of moral hypocrisy.
Fuck you,
whores of material and corporate personhood,
raping women with birth control;
possessing people with Money Medicine.
Fuck your Bullshit, your droppings,
fed to us by Corporate News.
Some still HOWL!
Some still see
Truth.
Some will not slave, lifting your concrete to heaven.
Some will die
to be a fly
in The Flaring Red EyEs.
Do you feel me, Moloch?
Do you feel my spit
on your Cadillac chrome?
Do you feel my Dent,
my SCREAM,
in everything you take?
I cry for humanity,
God Damn It and save it.
I write
for nations, colors, religions and insects,
and those who bombed your towers
(because you bombed Them, Moloch) –
but I will not serve you.
Moloch,
Take us.
Divide us.
Stomp us.
Feed as you are.
This rock will be yours.
May you MELT upon it
when soft flowers are gone.
And I will be gone,
my essence Blasted Back to Cosmic debris.
Moloch.
this country,
this World of Life,
reunites
in Death against you.
Moloch.
Be starved. Be Gone! Be Banished! Be Crucified! as you have crucified others.
Be KILLED, be SLAUGHTERED
with love.
DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! you Beast of brutality and Greed.
So,
I LOVE you, dear reader,
who may be as lost as I am
in the fate of this burning world.
I Love You,
fellow fragile organism
with eyes and feelings
and Heart of Gold
that every monster wants.
I love You
as I love Myself,
as I must Love Everything
between us,
between every atom.
I must Love.
and that is all I can Do.
Sincerely,
Derek Franz