Enemies of Khanate strung on hooks like pigs to slaughter
Heads will roll,
Heads will roll, throats will be slit
And blood will flow like springs of water
Heads will roll
To the River Red, across the ochre steppe
A thousand fathers killed,
A thousand virgin daughters spread with swords still wet,
With swords still wet with the blood of their dead
Nurjan, is upon us, he kills in silence after prayers
Thus now he knelt before the ruins
Cold of sweat and head of flame
To vow the severed heads of those who brought the village
To it's shame. Those who plundered, pilfered, and pillaged lives
Would now accept the blame.
He would find them all with a mighty vengeance paid for in their pain.
Shah-jan, the king of kings wore seven rings
And sixty feathers plucked from sparrow's wings.
Take everything your parents taught you, throw it to the dogs
Its forgotten flesh of something dead its blood drips from your jaws.
Take everything your school has taught you, throw it to the dogs.
Its meat that dries in summer heat and reeks now of its rot.
It speaks now of the fate that we await, to be forgot.
Just as mountains live outside of rocks
And time itself outside of clocks.
The sound they must have heard in the distance:
A wilderness of sound and movement repeating itself across
The narrows of the mountainside, the cries of creatures crashing
Oh god! The human voices, heralding the hillside.
Their bellows bounding ripe with resonance
From here the unimportant call received the all important answer.
Limb From Limb
Split the sky asunder
A noble huntress of the clan
In your left hand raise a sword, in your right hand cast a spear
Summon all the thieves and bastards (hiding in the woodland)
Crack their skulls in the cauldron
For invading our front and,
She'll stop the hammer fall
Just know this place could burn us all
As often as always evolution comes crawling from the sea
Alive with urgency like suicide convinced the grass is greener on dry earth.
The march of serrated utterance like a soft cough
Muffled murmur sneaking through the lecture hall.
The crawl across the island, the sound of waves
Embodied water sprouting legs as loud as gallop
All the young people who took a leap without faith into a riverbed
That drowns about as much as it saves
Did you come here to kill or did you come here to die?
And did we really think that spaceships would descend from the sky?
Bending light and beaming forth across space-time
To see us scared in the reflection of their oil black eyes?
And stalk us like a predator
Like our movies imply?
They're not the ones who come to kill us,
Come to fill us full of lead
She Who Mars The Skin Of Gods
"Kezia, my darling, please never forget this world's got the substance of a frozen summer silhouette,"
Said my mother through lips that were cracked with love and toil
Before she added, "the warmest of blankets is six feet of soil"
She had a perfume called Pride that smelled a lot more like Shame
When she walked into the room I was sleeping, heard her curse my father's name;
It was our situation, our position, our gender to blame
It was the lonely grey of my father's eyes staring back in the mirror's frame(x2)
Mother my arms are shaking while I write
Endowed with the art of casting names upon its being
The humans claimed dominion over every living fucking thing
Proud as purpose they became to walk the earth as they arraigned
The common creatures caught within the corpus
Cursed, conscious human brain.
Every word that's ever written will fall short of its intent.
Even spoke or sung or screamed it will betray what they have meant.
Language is the heart's lament, a weak attempt to circumvent the
Down the street half a block away
In a familiar place regular people
Agree with each other in smoke signals
(Down the street half a block away
In a familiar place regular people
Agree with each other)
Interprets the law as aging with it eyesight failing
The law is aging (oh yes it is)
Sitting across tables spending nights talking about other nights
Chews the fat with his creator over breakfast
In the sunlight though when he says grace, when he says grace
He feels enveloped like a shadow.
There are evenings when this decimated world of movement
Colour, Form is thing and getting thinner
When lights are dim and getting dimmer
(When nights are grim and getting grimmer)
As they barter their boulders