Monday, December 04, 2006

Let's Get Drunk And Dance To Slayer

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the familiar thud of the double kick drum
throbs through the sewers
of old London town
up through the drains
out in the street
an electrical charge
that starts at the feet
Slayer’s in town dude
fucking Slayer
and tonight the angry sky
will be raining blood
oh yes
we are hear for
brutalism
and blood
and mayhem
and to watch the
flying
bodies
hit the swirling circle
pit
guest tickets, baby
up on the balcony
and down below
in the smoke built
spotlight Hades
flanked by his banging brothers
bent double
Tom Araya is gurgling
Are you read for WAR?
I said, are you ready for…”
and Lombardo is Wagner
writing rhythms of hate
with blast beats
for the protons and neutrons
bashing bare skin and skulls
before them;
the inner animal unleashed
inside the
four thousand nine hundred and twenty-one
of us
let loose in this blackened zoo
beneath
the proscenium arch
heads charred by
sixteen strings set to stun
in the bronze-sprayed
deafening dome
that lets us watch the stars
as the fetid floor slips
away and away
into the bowels
and the slop
and the sweat
and the ash
of a Monday morning
- later we’ll smoke weed and
read the Sagas and
fuck to the sound
of the wind
but for now
we find
Valhalla on a
cold Sunday night





Ben Myers

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