Otep Bio (copied from her MYSPACE reads:
"Our music is formed from the marrow of creative intercourse. Art for art's sake. Indeed. And just as Artaud taught: our music is a protest against the senseless constraints that reduce "culture" into an inconceivable Pantheon of humdrum, ineffectual lesser gods and puppets of sterility & puritanism. In antiquity, the Theatre was created as an outlet for all of life's repressions and to proclaim to one and all that life's intensity is still intact. Just as light is born from the burning flame, we must fight for the glow. But we warn you, this music, our message, and these lessons are not for every soul. Some will be devoured. Others reborn. Remember, do not slide into bed with the Devil unless you intend to fuck."
-- Otep Shamaya

clinging
to the final drops
of morning,
it is
quiet here.

calm. disarming.

the shiny bones
of my dark metropolis
have loosened their grip.

no birds sing. no sirens.
no aircraft overhead.
few signs of life.

a dog barks in the distance.
a lone engine putters by.
a baby coos and cries. but no people
(anywhere) for blocks.

a soft white mist has circled
the city in a tender siege.
it drifted in
off the skin
of the pacific ocean,
from nautical spaces of far away mystery,
carrying notions and assumptions
of uncharted adventure.

it’s as if the whole outlaw nation of Los Angeles
has at once exhaled, collectively,
and rest in the sweet slumber of this ghostly haze.

outside my window
of this top floor flat,
the teeming hills surrounding Hollywood
loom silently
over the concrete veins
that cut through the ancient flora.

the wind is cool and slow.

from somewhere,
in the building
below me; an open window, playing loudly:
The Doors' "The End" slithers in
& cuts the silence.

unprovoked.
but necessary.

so,
hello, sunday.
thank you for the escape.

i take you in
with my lungs & lips
with mighty gulps
of hopeful satisfaction

before the sun
comes undone
& burns the edges
& singes the soul
& brings us all
back
to electric desert
awakening.