DRAMATURGICAL PROMULGATIONS

Small minded raw egos product-drive dense conversation 
On a lifelong Socratic vacation
It’s not just my imagination 
Running away with impatience

What’s with the dramaturgical promulgations? 
Today the sun has shown what sons can father on their own

Fishing for praise at every orientation
Elaborate means withholding an inactive imagination

Neutron-ic star composites of syndication
Colorblind racist in little lamb clothes,
What’s become of our salvation? 

Further risk your life in a new vocation 
At a penitentiary style location
Jump off the burning train, derailed before a station 
Gather up ashen soot to prolong anticipated elation

Step off the stepstool, place yourself on a throne 
The all-seeing sun has shone 
On sons who know now what they own

Who’s The Boss?

Joys in sequence so infrequent
I’m wearing sequin stockings

Fill your cup with the blood
Strut forth with the stuff
Make it up as you go 
Shopping til you drop to and fro

Bah says black sheep
I’ll sell you my wool off me just 
Leave what’s grown over my eyes 

The soul is Black
The heart is Red
When your scalp is White 

Unfair days won’t soon get better 
Shearing the shorn with hands held together 
In a corporate cradle that affords to do better

Put the joys in a sequence

Never Idle Hands

Several promises ago when the sky hung low 
In your hands you could place all your natural thoughts 
On a race that you grope to relate with / belong to, 
As you were innately taught 

When your hands were your hands, not merely 
Dutiful promotional thumbs. 
Withstand what you can; No one more special but 
For taste of importance can win and then become 
More productive with never idle hands. 

As productive with your hands 
As you conduct them to be. 

A city makes demands its plastic children understand. 
When the dog whistle blows look to the collar in your hand. 
As full of life as playing dead gets your eyes roll over hours 
And seek affectionate pets. 

Oh how good try diversify morally impactful class sniffing nod. 
Brand yourself in the sunset with a cattle prod. 
You’ve done a good job!

Douchebag Caveat

Let’s go to the place where the joker’s a priest and 
All you can eat is right at your feet 

You’ve long been well on your way 
Get on humble black’ n ‘blue’d knees to pray 
For your way or the highway 

In the end we’ll be untraceable cosmic dust 
Let’s have it our way always 

Find me a place where apes have no chests 
Darwin is ashamed in new ways 
Put your foot in my mouth to see what comes out your way 

You must come with me so we can go together and perspire 
Society nymphomaniac-ally requires 
Dependent Compacted Complicit Compliant Complacence 

Adjacent to the indignant nation, ancestral shame 
Resounding-s from the mountaintops that 
Each selfish reflex committed is 
Impatient Disruptive Adolescent Repugnant and Brain-dead 

Self-appointed translucent caped savior 
Fuck your neighbor in your own image 
Behavior

Like a Sick Eagle

The spirit is too weak 
Mortality weighs heavily on me 
Like unwilling sleep and 
Each imagined pinnacle and steep; 
Of God-like hardship tells me I must die 
Like a sick eagle looking towards the sky

© Charles Ives (first sketched in 1906, published in 1920), words by John Keats 

Narcissyphus / White Silence

Been blacked out for a long time but

It’s all white as far as I can see

Drive Your Body Like a Zombie

Drive your body like it’s yours 
I am sorry, I’m a zombie 
You understand? 
But of course 

Must be confusing selves with you as 
I do when I need onhand people 
To project my idea of Self onto 

How could you be so untoward? 
You deserve a fat reward 
For such an atrocious expialidocious bullshit job 

Use the eyeballs in your skull 
Is it not wonderful 
How the world looks at you 
As you see them do? 

Through and through 
You have them looking at you 
As only they can do 
Here’s to you - 

Frame your freedom in a fence 
Judge your own evident impotent ignorant malcontentment 
Common sense can no longer befriend your 
Uncompassionate zombie existence

All The People

Stick your petunia in a rifle that shoots blanks for the people
Disproportionate equals with no space to run 

Professed young wisdom means something 
When you suck up to Buddha 
Could you would’ve you should’ve but 
Now you can’t stay calm 

Keep your calm living among classless fathers and moms 
Endear engendered pigment qualms 

Clasp the palms into a chapel 
For religion’s sake we will 
Here comes the steeple and 
Out run the people 

Not just some or for one but everybody’s person kind of people 
All of the people 

Sounds like people 
Not for some or just one but every person’s kind of people 
All the people

Eastern Colonialism

In moments you thought you knew 
Red White and Blue dismissed a clue 
From hand to mouth to foot to face 
All wronged rights were sold back to you 

Show them what you can do 
Why ask a mirror if change depends on you? 

Shock and Awe sold my self-worth-less city 
To a pious fascist corporate whore 
Tell us when to open the door 
Strip down at the mall for spared change 
In a poisoned applecore 

These are moments only you can know 
Reframing reasons soon wished away too slow 

Show them what you want to 
Don’t ask a mirror to do this for you