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Imparator

by Cursêd Dogs

supported by
Joshua Ferrao
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Paul Bonner
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lyrics

At sunrise call I smell the burning,
the piled dead each morning,
and salivate contempt.
Sunset, I might sweat dissonance
as fire and steel from post-prayer muzzles of faceless men
rain down upon our heads and tents.

And it’s simple for me
to jealously bruise caged Corvus cousin progeny,
in covetous sadistic therapy,
stoke envy for blued corpus found there
by the butt-ends of rifles
and my fists and my anger and fear.

I am the spiteful legionnaire
I’ve raised that eagled-fascist banner again, here
in nests where Senate raptors laid us;
in crescent fields, too glabrous to menstruate
yet pleading to quiver, in oily, iron-blood gushing red,
under stroke of our empire standards’ thrust
if ever we could get our symbols straight.
Or so I have convinced my lustful head
in intimate latrine hand-dates:
my sermons of self-hate
as orgasm-tranced prelate for the church of pax romana.

Blood and feces.
Mud and fasces.
Twenty myriad bones, at least,
with aurous axe in lictor bundle
wound round with the sinew of dead Iraqis.
Ochlocracy, kleptocracy-
Feigned victors, dirge-swelled peace-
A placental-soaked neo-Cincinnatus
scrying the toilets of the Middle East.

If I could find my soul to ease
My symbols would be these

Instead, I crease my sand-caked eyes,
lament, peruse my body’s lies
in dirty palace mirrors or hemic Tigris deep,
see naught reflected other than
false uniform, gun sling, smoke and skin,
clap Kevlar hands in gravitas,
use clouded dust to weep.

-R.M.A. Richards

credits

released March 29, 2020
Personnel:
Songs by Cursêd Dogs
Recorded and mixed by Todd Harris and Cursêd Dogs

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all rights reserved

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Cursêd Dogs Boston, Massachusetts

Cursêd Dogs are a three-piece sludge punk band from Boston, MA.

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