Gehenna Lyrics
a poem for the South nearly slain, that it's candle be not brief:
"For never can true reconcilement grow grow
Where wounds of deadly hate have pierc'd so deep."
serpent, serpent:
greasy, sly --
lying beyond where the good things lie.
beyond garden,
beyond hoop,
beyond the call of mother home --
out, out.
out here?
No, further;
Beyond black-white films with lightning writ.
out here?
No! Further!
Beyond protest that new flag flashes.
out here?!
"For never can true reconcilement grow grow
Where wounds of deadly hate have pierc'd so deep."
serpent, serpent:
greasy, sly --
lying beyond where the good things lie.
beyond garden,
beyond hoop,
beyond the call of mother home --
out, out.
out here?
No, further;
Beyond black-white films with lightning writ.
out here?
No! Further!
Beyond protest that new flag flashes.
out here?!
Yes, that's it.
Beyond the past to present ashes.
ghosts haunt these parts
white klansman's robe lies wrinkled
that reb ole flag still flappin'
withered son out back in shed.
simon, simon:
burly, dry --
spying beyond where most cowards spy.
beyond garden,
beyond sword,
beyond the safe of master's hand --
out, out.
out here?
No, further;
Beyond fair Zion's more mundane aisles.
out here?
No! Further!
Beyond the courtyard's outer gate.
Beyond the past to present ashes.
ghosts haunt these parts
white klansman's robe lies wrinkled
that reb ole flag still flappin'
withered son out back in shed.
simon, simon:
burly, dry --
spying beyond where most cowards spy.
beyond garden,
beyond sword,
beyond the safe of master's hand --
out, out.
out here?
No, further;
Beyond fair Zion's more mundane aisles.
out here?
No! Further!
Beyond the courtyard's outer gate.
out here?!
Yes, that's it.
Beyond twice unto thrice the rape.
lonely past cloaks his blind eyes
loved lip fires forth rebuke
that red ole pride still flappin'
gloried christ shut up in box
"Dammit! I swear I know not this man!
All is now spoiled! Evil be thou my good!"
Yes, that's it.
Beyond twice unto thrice the rape.
lonely past cloaks his blind eyes
loved lip fires forth rebuke
that red ole pride still flappin'
gloried christ shut up in box
"Dammit! I swear I know not this man!
All is now spoiled! Evil be thou my good!"
About
Genius Annotation
This poem compares the fate of the South with the fate of Simon Peter.
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