as a matter

at the funeral of all familiar worlds
matter
is the weeping mother of all lies
it touches you
to hurt
or sings its siren song
down your mouth
flows her vibrant
physical force
of meaning
and nothing else

if one could only forget
those hidden spells
in an awakened brain
and never admit
to a  loss or longing
for blindness

but even blind
I am a dancing
chanting
pain in the ass
life’s metaphore
as a matter dressed
in tolling bells of consciousness

at the funeral of all familiar worlds
matter
is the weeping mother of all lies
it touches you
to hurt
or sings its siren song
down and out your throat
flows her vibrant
physical force
surprise
of meaning follows

if one could only forget
these hidden spells
in an awakened brain
and never admit
to a loss or longing
for blindness

but blind
you are more of a dancing
chanting clown
usual pain to Earth and Stars
life’s metaphor
as a matter
dressed
in waking
tolling to skies
bells of selfish unconsciousness

we – the shame
to whoever they are
them, Gods
as defined by adversaries
us including