4 Hands

The Sixth Hand Makes a Fist

“Ground”
Is what you make of it
Earthen or otherwise
It’s all the same
To the “King”

Emperor Lord
Charlatan
Cuts cloth with a wink
and eats your fingers
on a whim

A death to liars
A death to saints
We are each
Superbly human

*

Ray Lahoon
Is just the name
Of a man with a diamond eye
And the diamond is suffering
That cuts one’s head in twain

There is one creator God
And he goes without a name
He sits here now
In this lodge
And meditates upon loss
and rebirth
and flames
- omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent, this God’s true being and real nature are ineffable and beyond direct comprehension, although powerful traces exist both in and around us in the world, which is nothing less than the great book of this living God: as God is omniscient, It knows our experience; as God is omnipresent, It exists inside each of us; and as God is omnipotent, It acts through us. Our experience in this life is but one of many potential experiences, and surely neither the first nor the last of our beings.

Through work it is possible to know real aspects of God in this lifetime. This work of knowing God may be achieved through practice, which is Sweat.

*

Oh Children Mine!
Oh Children Thine!
We are all each queens and kings
Sublime

Take it, grip it, hold it, throw it
And make a castle from a sea of bones
As sweltering heat Dakota sun
Shines down upon you
And the rains wash away your sins

You make a fist,
for the water to pour down
You own this city!
You are this town!

There is nothing left to the sage now
But soft injustice and the ongoing thrum
of the liars’ history
made real by repetition
That chalky lie you lick
And praise

Until the ground itself
Slips away
And the earth
Is flattened
Or may as well be

Upon a flat earth
We cannot walk

And I, remorseful,
Stand and watch my other hand
Squeeze the trigger again
And again and again
Into the face of that girl
That daughter
Of the Emperor
That sweet Maid

Liberty

Oh you Children do not know
Neither do you see!

Those glutted Dutch lords turned modern ways
Stand like tiny kings
Rex Miniscua
Stand they in the field
As you plant tulips on your grave
These grow
From the blood of men
From children’s blood
Into a tower
So high above the slaves

All this to the soundless
Hum of money
Changing hands
Without tune
Neither ripple nor wave

And the flowers bend
One at a time
Until their stems do break

Leaving only
The too-high tower

And the workmen’s graves

And the highway
Oh the highway
Over a flat earth
Going nowhere
Going west
Which is dying
Or east
Which is to be enslaved

Unless one is well prepared
To war
Or…
- It is true that the most destructive idea in the history of humankind has not been, as often claimed, religion or even the notion of the nation-state. Rather, it is the idea of an implicit social hierarchy based on filial or racial ties, of a “privileged class” whose privilege self-enforces and strengthens existing channels of power and authority. All men are created equal, and it is by merit, not heredity or color or gender or creed professed, that a person must come to lead. Further, once this meritocracy pushes one to leadership, this leader must not be given carte blanche and needs to be checked by both the public and its elected officials.

It is true also that man, being charged and blessed to enter life requiring a mother’s care and the bonds of family, is a social and political creature.

And finally, it is the work of the enlightened citizen and politician to ensure that the weak are not oppressed by the strong and that the inalienable rights of each are protected against even the most well-wishing despot or tyrant, company or foreign power, individual or collective.

The public is a wizard
and a piebald sorcerer
and so falls for wizard’s tricks
and so falls hard

Lahoon
The Rebel Bone
drinks a glass
Of water
That he might sweat more

And be purified
before the coming of the day’s deepest hour
and the Sweat’s end
in murder
in sacrifice
no blame

I am thirsty
but thirst is not
my name

Read the Lyric from the Beginning