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      _____________       _/_/     | | \ \          _/_/     _____________
     |  ___________     _/_/       | |  \ \       _/_/       ___________  |
     | |              _/_/_____    | |   > >    _/_/_____               | |
     | |             /________/    | |  / /    /________/               | |
     | |                           | | / /                              | |
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     | |                           | | /                                | |
     | |                           |  /                                 | |
     | |                           |_/                                  | |
     | |                                                                | |
     | |      c   o   m   m   u   n   i   c   a   t   i   o   n   s     | |
     | |________________________________________________________________| |
     |____________________________________________________________________|

  ...presents...                   Urban Womb
                                                         by EnTrOpY

                      >>> a cDc publication.......1991 <<<
                        -cDc- CULT OF THE DEAD COW -cDc-
 ______________________________________________________________________________


INVIDIOUS URBAN WOMB
moons teeth sunken in their scalps
the straitjacket men walk wet to the knees
scuffing along past
tumbleweeds past
rubble in the unconsciously concrete tunnels
past disturbed beer cans
past the graffiti scrawl promises of
murdering and dead bodies ahead and
all that stuff
the roar of vehicles
from far
above.
Our skateboards over our shoulders
footsteps candleglowing echo
of flashlights.
the hatchet-man is somewhere ahead of us
grinding madly in the dark.


             "Rusted Shut"

              down on the street nothings
              moving, but trash
              still scatters in the dirty wind
              and dirty cars drift cautiously by
              like friendly piranhas.

              Tough guys sweat it out in leather
              jackets and their girlfriends
              ignore them.
              nobody touches anybody.

              A cluster of acidheads in tie-dye and
              blood-shot stand on the overpass
              watching the ripple of traffic
              lights from green to red to gold
              and finally back to
              red.

              These lights go on for miles and miles
              and probably never stop.

              I feel strange.
              I hope it storms.

              If it rains I'll feel like Marlon Brando
              and I'll be alone here
              If the sky were only a bit more gray
              or the wind were stronger
              I might let it carry me-
 
              But it isn't. and its not. and I don't.

              I imagine sometimes I will grow old this way,
              thinking things. seeing things.
              Perhaps.
              
              I'll never say anything nice again.
  _   _   ____________________________________________________________________
/((___))\|Demon Roach Undrgrnd.806/794-4362|NIHILISM..............517/546-0585|
 [ x x ] |Paisley Pasture......916/673-8412|Ripco II..............312/528-5020|
  \   /  |Tequila Willy's GSC..209/526-3194|The Works.............617/861-8976|
  (' ')  |Lunatic Labs.........213/655-0691|Condemned Reality.....618/397-7702|
   (U)   |====================================================================|
  .ooM   |Copr. 1991 cDc communications by EnTrOpY               07/20/91-#173|
\_______/|All Rights Pissed Away.                            FIVE YEARS of cDc|

