CONSTANTINE
“I AM KING OF ALL LIES BEFORE”
DID THIS KING, ‘CONSTANTINE’ DECREE:
THE ROAD I SEE, THE CALL TO WAR,
MY SUBJECTS, STATUS EVERMORE,
MY TRUTH, MY PEOPLE, WITH ME.
THE SONGBIRD IN MY GARDEN CALLS;
I MIGHT BE HIGHER THAN THE WALLS.
HERE, THE GARDEN GROWS THICK AND STRONG, A RICH ODOUR
BEYOND FALLEN ARE LOST FROM VIEW, TOO FAR DOWN.
I SMELL THIS ROSE FOR MEMORIES FONDER,
THE GRASS IS GREENER WHERE I LAY MY CROWN.
STILL NOW, EVERY DAY A MYSTERY INVENTED,
A CRACK IN MY MIDDLE FINGER APPEARS.
SOMETHING SENT WITH LOVE, RECEIVED AND MIS-INTENDED,
AS E’ER BENEATH A WANING MOON WAS HALTED,
MY COMMANDS HAVE DRIVEN MOTHERS TO TEARS.
THE WELL OF POWER, WITH CEASELESS TURMOIL SEETHING,
FORCED THROUGH ME SINCE THE DAY I STARTED BREATHING.
MY MIGHTY FINGERS RADIATE TO THE CURSED;
FROM MY EYES, HALF INTERMITTED BURST,
MIDDLE FINGER ON THE RADIO DIAL,
PUSHING BUTTONS, TOO FAST TO FAIL.
AND ‘MID MY FLIES TO SWAT ONCE AND FOREVER
ALL THE BLOOD I SPILT HAS BECOME A RIVER.
I’M STUCK IN PERPETUAL MOTION
I TRY TO REMEMBER THOSE WHO RAN,
THEN REACHED THE CAVERNS MEASURELESS TO MAN,
AND SANK IN TUMULT TO A LIFELESS OCEAN:
AND MID THIS TUMULT, ‘SONGBIRD’ I SAW
WHAT IT SANG I COULD HEAR NO MORE.
THE UNIVERSE I WAS MEANT TO BUILD
ON THE FINEST GRAIN OF SAND,
WITH BUMS ON SEATS, I CAN SAY I FILLED,
I MADE YOU ALL TAKE MY HAND.
I AM A MIRACLE OF RARE DISTRESS,
A SUNNY PLEASURE DOME WITH CAVES OF MESS.
THE SONGBIRD THAT ONCE SUNG TO ME,
OUT OF SIGHT, TOO FAR TOO SEE:
IT WAS AN ABYSSINIAN BIRD,
SHE WENT WITH A TWITTER, I HEARD.
WHAT MATTERS IS BEHIND ME,
I CAN MAKE IT GREAT AGAIN!
MY SYMPHONY AND SONG,
TO SUCH A DEEP DELIGHT ‘TWOULD WIN ME.
THAT WITH MUSIC LOUD AND LONG;
I WOULD BUILD THAT WALL OF AIR,
THAT SUNNY WALL! I LIKE YOUR DRESS!
AND ALL WHO HEARD ME SHOULD SEE ME THERE,
AND ALL SHOULD CRY, BEWARE! BEWARE!
MY ORANGE SKIN, MY FLOATING HAIR!
I WEAVE THE CIRCLE, I CONFESS,
I CLOSE MY EYES, BURY MY HEAD,
FOR I, ON MY OWN FARTS HAVE FED,
AND DRUNK THE MILK OF MY OWN PRESS.