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Post by maddogblues on Feb 8, 2010 21:25:04 GMT -5
Howlin’ At the Moon
Howlin’ at the moon, howlin’ at the moon, howlin’ at the moon.
I’m an old dog on the back porch; I’ve howled all my life, all I have left is memories.
I recall a time when being free meant being separate yet equal.
It was a crime for men to eat together in those days: I never understood it when it was explained that blood is required for failure to conform.
A few years later being free required more red blood from South East Asia for anonymous vampires to lap up as they flew their night flight rituals.
Then came weapons of “Mass Destruction”. No end to the gluttony was ever found beyond that of insatiable late night feasts and the lapping of blood flavored with different languages.
I’m just an old dog on the back porch listening to the mournful sobbing: “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?” through the passing years…
howling in response: “Moloch, moloch, moloch”; to ears that hear and lips that say: ‘shut up’. The colors remaining are pure lily red, white, blue, and green.
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