The Prophet and the Pendulum
There is more love in a hyena’s asshole
Then there is in an old whores face.
Only her cheap perfume is enough
To distract the eyes away
By filling the nostrils
Of a thousand lousy men.
Each one
Allowing her to be a virgin again
For thirty dollars a pop!
And a Spanish guitar
Plays to a drunk on the sidewalk
Who points away to the Moon and
Has a look in his eyes that says,
‘I’ve been somewhere, kid.’
‘I’ve had one helluve ride!’
And the night bleaches the colour black.
Illuminated only by the white neon of promise.
And the night-crawlers crawl.
And the shadows pray to the heavens,
And somewhere in the distance
The sun rises on a new day.
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