A Prayer to the Devil, And Sympathy

My advice to anyone newly born to this

planet

Try your best to keep the shit out of your eyes

If you want to be Lord

don’t compromise

(The Flies)

They panic when you relativize

In the attic, where children play dungeons and dragons

they see satan in the maneuvers to outwit authority’s bland magic

and I sympathize

with those who, lonely

fear the mob, the mass, the crowd

who chants stolidly and angry

‘we shall not be moved’

you can feel yourself apart

from all humanity in these gathering times

where reapers come to sow

but I like when you come to my door

and ask me if I want to walk with you

the march, it gets me out of my hole

Kerouac, before he drunk himself to death, was so zen and lovely

he had this theory, and I subscribe

that the vietnam war was a ploy by the vietnamese to get more jeeps in country

and private cowboy in that full metal jacket, though his main issue with being

at war was ‘there ain’t one horse in this whole country…

there’s something basically wrong with that’

i think the military and all the wars in history

have done a great service getting men up the courage

to wear their shirts tucked in,

and mop the bathroom, timely

but I long to ride away into the sunset

if only

the movie, she won’t end

Master, the campaign you wrote for your supposed friends

it’s a convoluted story

we came to slay demons and lay with bar wenches

I’m a bard, my friends are clerics and barbarians, dummy

We don’t know what to do with your never ending story

I could fade into the scenery,

become a supporting character at the local tavern, telling my story

to the adventurers who

come on main character trying to take from me my homely

I’d make a good dragon, if I could horde

enough of your meaninglessness to feed on

that’d be lovely

I wish my fight wasn’t the world’s, so much, not anymore

it was fun to be abhorred, in this vacuum cleaner dicksuck

trying to make people care how hard it’s getting to breathe

trying to save a place to bask in the glory of a sunny sunny

trying to penance last night’s mess to the record player

with a book and something yummy

trying to break apart the time

so i can pick the shell off my born mortal life eternal

hard boiled not-here-to-die upcoming

to summon a fire, cast a spell

and let the mob, the horde who will always be a class of enemy

disembowel and eat the boy who picks corpses for their sacred manuscripts

like perfume, you know (funny)

and longs to

fuck you running

with love and squalor, this goes out to you

James Dallas Egbert III

keep your maps tattooed on backs and secret safe and beating

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