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.