white lightning on the horizon
awakens me from a palmetto slumber;
the cicadas purring their sweet symphonies
from a canopy of green above.
ants journey,
backpacking along the planes of my chest
rising, as my mountains bloom.
we mark our land with machetes in hand
kissing the endless earth
hoping our souls will be saved.
i am happy here, in my dreams,
my tanned skin sheltered from sun's tears.
we forget the gods here;
no more kings, my belly has stopped rumbling for the taste of power.
i came here a boy in green, calling to be buried under burning jungles,
napalm a glistening sheen on my lips.
oh, how i love the taste of destruction.
there is no more red, white, or blue
just an endless pyre,
just the slow dance of the river.
