carry a big stick & give it a name
dance wildly in places of mourning
follow the voices in your head on drums
smoke out every place of business with a harsh cigar
when you come to a fork in the road choose neither & go straight for the knife
make a public ritual out of every mental breakdown
steer clear of wintry temperaments
don't be too hard on those who choose to follow you
chalk up their bad tattoos to scar envy
call the sun your brother but don't put all your trust in him
enter every room cockfirst
refuse all sugary offerings
drink your coffee black or not at all
drink your coffee in violent company
never expect a lamp to burn all night
prop up the corpse of Che Guevara
do that until he gets his strut back
then make him head priest of your forest tribe
come gather up the powdered bones of old Lumumba
run them through the crucible of patience
& watch him come forth to praise the killing hand
now he's master of his own kitchen
the gods are his soul food
like any wise eater he feeds only on those who taste of death