Mad Heaven (paranoid prayer) by Jonathan Witherspoon Huey
Occasionally, heaven in all it’s splendor and glory
goes quite mad,
Bring me the sun as it sets, for I love happiness, optimism,
and the whispers of suicide,
I pray for the emancipation of priceless art inside glasses of wine!
I pray for awakening of poor America’s Tinkerbell father bitch!
Molten hands in toilet vortex, act your age chlorine soldiers!
We’ll have no profanity here faraway lover Moriarty.
I’ll meet you halfway to poison, or pity,
can you fathom the survival madness?
Discover my body O candidate! O Apache dance of mayhem!
O fallen star of mantis consciousness!
No child hurting,
no child termination,
Fly you gods, you dysfunctional wings,
lest tears catch you in rain of solitude,
Come storm, shield me from reflection power,
intoxicated, starved, I sing the blues!
Nothing more healthy than depressed charity,
seventy times seven equals a growling temptress,
what passages, what nitrous oxide venture now, here, presently,
in our pain, on our sea, in our panicked blackhole lonely fantasy,
let the vision manifest, let the idea not die!