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John Sinclair

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Song Of Praise
Thursday, 09 February 2006 11:53
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Consequences 


The music moves inside my self,
I mean I feel saxophones in-
side my meat, a force in-
spiring that meat
to sing pure electricity. Flashes. Scream,

Move out from the wall
of your self. Out from there,
Now, or you stay there. What you thought
that man was screaming, that he wanted
to get inside you. You,  again, like some stupid
broken record.

The music moves inside,
& stays there. A part of what you are. & NOT
from.  But the song of meat energy
burning to come through you. In charge. & that energy
makes its way. Yes, shapes it, & is in charge. In,
goddamnit, IN the meat,
and of it. Yes,

yes, yes. A
firming it. And where you can go
to find that one place, I mean
it is the meat. And the song
that moves that self,
& shapes it, ah, ah,

well yes it does



detroit
december 20, 1966



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