Bohemian Groove
 
This one’s for them celebrities and their 
political groupies:
 
Whya gotchyo hand over one eye, boy?
Whya gotchyo hand over one eye, girl?
Ya’ll go to Epstein’s island?
Or ya’ll the Bohemian Grove type?
 
This one’s for Slim:
 
Know how I know you sinned big, sir?
Much like I know it with me.
But you became the goat-men’s scamp,
Got clung to a master far worse than them.
 
Marshall, please come around!
 
This one’s for John Podesta and 
Marina Abramovic:
[Why you][got]
Why you got [a] cannibal[’s art], boy?
Why you got [a] cannibal[’s art], girl?
Why d’your soups ‘n cakes look 
like blood and bodies?
Wish I was kidding— Are you? 
Explain. Now talk more please.
 
Please come around.
Through love, peace, and truth.
Let’s getchu immersed in this Jesus milieu.
 

Prince of Peace
 
Blind protoSun, proto-
Blinds til Sun passes
Explosions dash outward
The dancing of ashes
The cooling of spheres
The void: 
[l]ight’s inversion
We should not know this
 
First [, now and last] was the Word,
Thus the traumas of 
[b]irth,
Left my 
Mother 
To see 
Her.
The first I saw God, was His 
Light animating 
Her face.
 
Ya[h] hail me [ya] before 
You like Lucifer's hounds,
Act as if 
You don't know. 
Yah dress us before 
Ye in Lucifer's gowns,
But they're no fit for we. 
See-hee
 
And comes each
Jester,
A 
Joke as 
He [she] passes, an’
Says 
He’s [she’s] our 
“L”eader,
Then reaps Mammon's stashes.
When we point at 
Its pattern.      <--
Then                 |
                     v
It threats to erase us again [again… again…].
|
v
[… again, before, then Tiberius…]
 
-->
… Then Nixon, then Ford
Then [forget], and then Reagan
Then Bushes and Clintons,
Obam-begets-Trum-n-then:
More of the 
Jesters, then
Tiberius fattens…
Tiberius happens...    
          ^
          |
          |
My Prince, He returns, 
Gospel spurs, 
Now returns, atop the same donkey
Still no sword or device 
Save the Word and a full head of steam…
 
See-He! He’s now at horizon’s refrain, 
Joining 
Foes to His wave, to His breeze. He’s 
Come to starve
Thee of [w]ars, starve 
The[e,] Beast
That's the miracle scheme.
Starving 
Ye[,] [w]ars.
Coming to 
You 
[Now]:
[o]ur
Prince of Peace.
 
“If you fucking cowards so much as whisper 
about peace, 
so much as THINK, 
you’re gonna wind up on the CIA list.”
 
And comes each 
Jester,
A 
Joke as 
He [she] passes, an’
Says 
He’s [she’s] our 
“L”eader,
Then reaps Satan's stashes.
When we point at 
Its pattern
Then
It threats to erase us again.
 
It says:
“Best vote you Blue or you Red,
Best you hate!
Best [y]ou!
Best fall in line,
Fill the void of no shape.
And it’s best that if you don't think.
Best you breathe apathy. And satiate endlessly.”
 
I’d jerked off on the altar of 
[i]mage—
An' that’s not what 
It wanted. 
See, [see-He, see-He], I'd disengaged, 
while Satan wanted [his] Its process of me.
[‘T'il we’re death, ya’ll. Death!]
 
[Who whoos?
Not me, not
[y]ou,]
So, 
Who sees 
Her?
Who sees
Him?
Who sees
The
Middle Eastern
Child-- see?!
He’s in danger or a manger, 
Or whatever form deemeth He:
 
Coming to 
You 
Thou
Thy 
[o]ur
Prince of Peace.
Coming to 
You 
Thou
Thy 
[o]ur 
Prince of Peace:
In whatever form deemeth He.
Starving 
Ye[,] [w]ars,
Starve 

[Thas the 
Mihacle scheem]
 
If you fucking cowards 
shout about peace NOW,
we’re gonna wind up on the CIA list!
BILLIONS of us! 
 
He’s coming
[Dark fears light]
He’s coming
[Night becomes day]
He’s coming
[Paving the way]
He’s coming
[For] 
Our Prince of Peace
 
Our Prince of Peace
 
If you fucking cowards 
shout about peace NOW,
we’re gonna wind up on the CIA list!
BILLIONS of us!